What does 7 Times 45 equal?

At breakfast this morning, Ben asked how old he would be in dog years. I quickly computed 7(dog years) x 9 (Ben years) and told him 63 years old. Sarah said that that was wrong that "dog years" should be calculated as follows: 10 years for the first year, 7 for the second , then 3 for each year after that. Not to be showed up by his sister, Ben said it was actually 7 years for the first year, then 5 years for each subsequent year. Ya know, when I was a kid it was always a 7:1 ratio, pretty simple stuff. I don't know if these kids are blowing smoke, or if they're teaching something different in the schools now days, or what. I only know that it interrupted a perfectly good bowl of oatmeal, and now of course I have to google it to find out what the real answer is in case it should actually matter someday.

I had one of those scary moments on my way home for lunch today when you don't remember like 1/2 of your ride. I remember getting in my car and my first turn, the rest I don't recall until a mile and a half later. Don't remember the turn signals (though probably did do them), the mirror checking, brakes, nothing. About all I remember is singing the chorus to the song I had on the CD player at the time. Evidently that was more important to me than focusing on navigating my 1/2 ton killing machine on wheels. Scary stuff, but I've heard other people say they've done the same thing. Auto-pilot.

Whipped up an omlette for lunch today. Well, it started as an omlette. It ended up more like gifted and talented scrambled eggs.

If you know my wife at all, you know she's a piler. She has her stacks of stuff, all very important and they are spread throughout the house. There's the "critical pile", that sits next to our kitchen phone. It is absolutely sacred ground to be touched by none but her. There's the "receipt pile" that sits in the computer room that is either awaiting entry into the bank account or for one of the kids to knock it over, whichever comes first. There's the "island pile" that sits on the kitchen island, but never lasts more than 4 hours or so. And, well, you get the gist.

I actually used her critical pile this week and when Sarah asked for a paper related to her overnight deal for church, I actually found it.

So it occurred to me that while my wife is away, I am actually beginning to understand how she ticks. At the same time however, it occurred to me that her experience in Guatemala may be changing her enough that she will come back determined to deconstruct her piling technique, or worse yet, change it on me. That would be just my luck. Start to understand the female mind and they change it on you. I'll keep you posted on what transpires. (Any bets?)

To take this a bit further, and this is not griping, just an observation. Why is it that just when I figure out where the pans and tupperware goes, the whole system changes? It goes back to that neuron preservation thing I talked about yesterday. Once you hit 40, there should be a rule that everything in the kitchen needs to stay where it is. Hey, if the system works, why mess with it? As a computer guy, the only thing I can equate it with is, say every four months I moved all your files to a new folder and then didn't tell you until you couldn't find something. I'm not anti-change, I'm just a slow re-learner I guess, at least in the kitchen. It's a strange phenomena in the female genome. Some sort of nesting thing or something.

Ben had been bugging me to have a friend over tonight because Hunter couldn't make it here from MN with his mom. I agreed of course. Well this morning Ben gets a call from a friend who asks if Ben can sleep over. (Remember Sarah's on an overnight thing too.) Ben asks me and I say "Well, let me think about it...OK!!!" Proof positive that God strengthens and refreshes you when you need it most.

As a result of this, I had a chance to have Dinner with Steve at Lulu's cafe. We talked about the women in our lives and Steve showed me his latest home improvement project, a banister. I wish I had his knack for working with his hands. The good thing is I'm always learning from him. He's a good friend.

Word from Donna is all good. They had a "fun" day in Antigua today and when I checked the weather it looked like it was 73' and sunny. I trust they enjoyed it. She has said time and time again, she's not sure how she can describe the experience to people when she gets back. I guess you'll have to hear it directly from her once she's back. I miss her.

Otherwise, things are good here. It has been a good week for me to reconnect with Ben and Sarah. It has given me an appreciation for all Donna does to keep the kids and I from looking like orphans. Today I sent Ben to school in fatigue pants and a powder blue striped shirt. Does that match? Ya know I figured hey, it's Friday, and if he's OK with it, I'm OK with it. It's no worse than me going to work with blue pants, brown shoes and black socks. (they looked blue in the light.) I did a lot of standing that day.

Well, I'd better run. I'm sure there's some laundry that will need dusting if I don't put it away soon. The kids and I are getting real used to this living out of the laundry basket though. No drawers to open, just look in the basket (Sarah's on the left, Ben's on the right) and paw around till you get what you're looking for. Tidy, no, but effective.

Below is Toby at his finest.

Jim