Hell’s belles

So we’re sitting around tonight talking about an upcoming event and I mention that someone we know said he will be there with bells on, and the Reverend Mother says, “I hope he’s wearing more than that, because that’s not someone I want to see with nothing more than bells on,” and I say, “Oh, sounds like you have a list of people you do want to see,” and she says, “Yeah, I’ll show it to you later,” and then Tiger Lilly, who’s baking chocolate chip cookies, says, “I know I sure do,” and it gets real quiet.

Then the Mall Diva says, “You are soooooo grounded.”

Hey, chocolate chip cookies!

A dad in the night

I was sitting up late the other night,
not paying much attention to the TV flickering in my face
as I thought about Daughter #1 and the plans
spinning in her life,
all while I waited for Daughter #2 to
come home from a group outing.
Then this video came on, and I knew that sleep
was a long way off,
and that tomorrow was much too soon.

Court and spark

I discovered another blog with an appreciation for Courtship: iPandora. Blog founder Matthew has been joined by co-blogger and future bride, Grace, aka American Texan.

Currently at the top of the page are their two stories of how they met, became friends, then reached the decision to court and now, ultimately, are engaged. An “engaging” story indeed, told from two viewpoints but with a common vision. Check it out.

Looking for Ben?

If you’re looking for posts by Ben over at Hammerswing the next couple of days you might be disappointed. I’ve dragged him off to Missouri to meet the family and whatever misadventures that might entail.

Even though Ben and the Diva are a ways from getting married, there might be some back here in the hills that might want to do a trial-run on the custom of the “shivaree” while he’s in range. In some places, the shivaree consists merely of shooting off guns and fireworks near the couple on the wedding night. Perhaps another form could be the ritual of “decorating” the groom’s car. Around these parts the fellas have been known to be more creative. Like the time 25 years ago when a young groom was kidnapped from his bachelor party the night before the wedding and taken to the nearby town of Steelville, stripped to his jockeys and left to make his way home.

That was 25 years ago, though, and in that time certainly even our little town has come into modern, more enlightened times. Or, maybe they’ve just had more time to think of things to do. I don’t know because I don’t live around here anymore. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Does this sound like anyone we know?

Nancy at Fritinancy (formerly Away With Words) touches on the Divine:

But enough about Patty. Let’s talk about the dog. Specifically, the dog’s name. On paper she’s “Shann’s Legally Blonde.” But she picks up her ears and smiles a doggy smile when you call her “Diva.”

Then again, who doesn’t? Once upon a time, the term (which means “goddess” in Italian) was applied highly selectively, and with all due respect, to opera megastars such as Maria Callas. These days, everyone with a pair of X chromosomes is a diva. We’re so democratic! Divacratic, even.

Nancy, who makes a living by naming and helping to brand new products, goes on to list a series of Diva-centric product names (not all that I’d care to reprint here). A sampling:

Zappos, the online shoe store, features four pages of shoes code-named Diva, including the Gel-Dirt Diva 2 running shoe and the Diaper Dude Divas Diaper Bag. (Divas do diapers?)

“The Diva” is Old Navy’s name for its lowest-rise jeans.

Diva Furniture sells furniture in Los Angeles and Seattle.

Viva Diva, a clothing boutique not far from where I live, gets points for rhyming.

Diva Espresso, which has four Seattle locations, gets points for referring to itself as “she” (“Diva paid her growing-pains dues…”).

Surf Diva offers surfing lessons in San Diego.

Then there’s the sisterhood of blogging divas: Cooking Diva, Techie Diva (pink! pink! pink!), Retail Design Diva (which had a nice post a few months ago on why store mannequins no longer smile).

What, no Mall Diva? Perhaps she’s lost her Diva cred? Maybe she needs to take the Are You a Diva? quiz or the What Decade Diva Are You? test.

Super(b)

Ok, you blog long enough and it’s going to be hard to keep secrets. A recent commenter on the “Who is this guy?” post finally put it all together and realized that Tiger Lilly and the Mall Diva have super powers. As a matter of fact, here’s a recent photo of the red-headed Tiger Lilly transforming into her superhero form in order to escort Ben and the Mall Diva home, or responding to a distress call about a ninja cow in the vicinity:

The Mall Diva’s powers are more subtle and include being able to teleport herself. I can’t tell you how many times lately I turn around and say, “Now where did she go?” (Don’t worry, Tiger Lilly has super tracking powers as well).

Naturally, they got their powers from me, as that earlier post also revealed that I am also a superhero, perhaps the result of a CIA experiment gone wrong. If you find that hard to believe, credit my brilliant fat-guy disguise. No sir, no stupid Clark Kent eye-glasses for me – I mean, really, who ever fell for that?

So, now you know.

The difference between men and women: #436

Saturday the Mall Diva released Ben from her clutches so he and I could do some male bonding while watching the Packers play-off game. We were watching the game in the basement (where the snowy field and green and gold uniforms were beautiful in HD) when Ryan Grant broke off a long run toward the Seahawks’ goal-line.

Packer-fan Ben leapt off his couch in such great excitement that he struck his head on the low ceiling, dealing himself a near-stunning blow.

Upstairs the Diva and her mother heard the startling and devastating crack and wondered out loud and with some concern if something catastrophic had happened. They listened intently for what might come next.

“Must not be anything too bad,” Mall Diva said. “Dad’s laughing his butt off.”

Come to the table

Interesting article in the Strib yesterday about a U of M study that found that adolescent girls who eat more meals with their family are less likely to develop bad eating habits:

The survey of 2,000 Minnesota adolescents found that girls who have five or more meals a week with their families are one-third less likely to develop unhealthy eating habits. That could be anything from skipping meals to abusing diet pills to anorexia.

For reasons experts say are hard to explain, the same is not true of boys. The study by University of Minnesota researchers was published Monday in the Archives of Pediatrics and Adolescent Medicine.

It is the latest in a growing body of evidence showing regular family meals seem to help adolescents avoid a wide variety of health risks, including obesity, drug use, smoking and suicidal thinking. Earlier U of M research has shown that’s also true for adolescents who say they don’t have the best relationships with their families, but who still eat with them regularly.

Our family eats supper together at least five or six times a week. I’m also the proud father of two slender daughters. Of course, they’ll tell you the reason they are slender is because I keep eating their tater tots. Oh well, they’ll thank me for it some day.

Having dinner together just seems normal to us. We’ve never had to make a point of doing it, it’s just something we’ve always done. Maybe we’ve been lucky in that, while our lives are pretty busy, our activities don’t tend to violate the dinner hour — or maybe we’ve just chosen not to take up activities that take us away from the dinner table. My girls haven’t had the number of athletic pursuits that I had when I was living with my parents, which helps, but on the evenings when Tiger Lilly has Tae Kwan Do lessons we eat a little later, and on nights when the Mall Diva has band practice or some rehearsal we eat a little earlier.

A lot of the credit goes to my wife, who is super-organized and a good cook who likes a lot of variety and using fresh ingredients instead of processed foods. She typically goes through her recipes and selects meals for a week in advance and constructs her grocery shopping list accordingly. Her job allows her to get home around 4 p.m. and she’s very efficient in putting the evening’s pre-planned fare together. She’s someone who prides herself on being able to eat just about anything (except beef stroganoff), but the rest of us all have certain lines we won’t cross, which is a cross my wife must bear. We greatly appreciate her diligence, skill and creativity, however, and we’ve learned that if any of us does have a complaint we try to keep it small.

Once, for example, in the infamous “Not Quite Tuna Tapenade” incident, my wife tried out a new recipe — the afore-mentioned tuna dish. We said grace and then the girls and I all took our first bite while my wife busied herself with her napkin or some such. It was…different. The three of us kind of rolled the food around our mouths meditatively as my wife lifted her fork. She chewed. She blanched. “This is horrible!” she said. “Who wants to order pizza?” And there was much rejoicing.

Besides the good food, it’s just plain fun to be together. My wife and I never were much for baby-talk with our kids so conversation has always been pretty natural and free-flowing, which may have contributed to the composure the girls have had, even from a young age, when talking to adults. Sometimes we have deep conversations, but most of the time it can get rather silly, especially since both girls have a knack for picking up whole blocks of dialog from movies or TV shows with one hearing, and a love for dropping these references or snippets into the conversation. For example:

I’ll say, “Pass the meatballs.”

Immediately the Mall Diva and Tiger Lilly will, in unison, burst out with “Meatball, meatball, spaghetti underneath! Ravioli, ravioli, Great Barrier Reef!” from some SpongeBob episode. Technically there’s also no singing at the table but getting through a meal with out an inspired chorus or two from them is kind of like dinner without dessert.

While the whole experience is rather routine to us we know, from the sometimes amazed reactions and comments we get from guests, that we have an unusual and blessed lifestyle. So many families are caught in the whirl of so many activities and so little time, and of lonely, fast-food dinners. As the study in the article suggests, though, frequent and regular meals together as a family has a measurable and beneficial effect. Some of the guests I mentioned earlier in this paragraph stayed with us because they were experiencing some crisis in their lives or in their families and our communal, convivial approach was startlingly foreign to them. Even more people have commented about a sense of peace they feel when they visit. I wonder if it’s just coincidence?

Update:

Here’s another study with similar findings: Family Dinner and Adolescent Overweight, from the North American Association for the Study of Obesity.

365 days ago today…



…the inspiration for the following post was created, though it didn’t appear here for a couple of days.



One of the things about blogging is that occasionally you can do a little self-indulgent interior-monologuing:



We were bombing down the interstate the other day, the Mall Diva in the driver’s seat, cruise control, good visibility and dry pavement laid out straight in front of us just the way the engineer drew it up. We were going fast, perhaps a little faster than allowed, but the road appeared to roll by languorously with the green highway signs occasionally marking progress as the numbers to our expected destination got steadily smaller.



Life is often like that. It goes by fast, but you get so used to it that you hardly notice. The signposts — birthdays, events — come and go pretty much as expected, letting you know you’re getting closer to whatever is ahead, and large sections of it (at least when you get to be my age) are flat and straight. Every so often, though, you come to a curve; a big, sweeping change of course. You’re still on the same highway, still going the same place, it’s just that this is “the way” and you follow it as the compass (and sometimes your tummy) swings around. It’s not unexpected, if you check the map you’ll see that the curve is clearly marked, but you might be surprised to find that you’ve come so far, so soon.



It just takes the slightest turn of your hands to stay on course; similarly a simple thing, such as a short conversation, can mark a turning point and the familiar road starts to look a little different. Our family swept into one such curve the other day. I’m talking about life, not the highway, but the natural inclination is still to let off the gas a little, slow down, maintain control — if I were in the driver’s seat, that is.



All in all, it’s a good thing, but — sorry to be a tease — I can’t write any more about it at this time. Actually, I think I’m going to write plenty (this, for example) as I sense that a very philosophical vein has been tapped; it’s just that I don’t expect to post any thing further about this particular subject for some time. Everyone is well, everything is secure — did that last sign say anything about there being a rest area up ahead?



Tomorrow will mark the 365th day since an important milestone was passed. Come back here then for more details.