What Tim doesn't get, honestly, is why people think it's disgusting. "I mean," he says, "they just go down your throat the backwards way anyway, so when they come out your nose, why shouldn't you recycle them? That's not gross, it's just natural."
Squeamishness is such a satisfying state of mind, but squeamlessness is more lucrative. Think dentistry. Sure, marketing managers get to wear Brooks Brothers and comprehend The Office, but do they make as much as Urologists? We may as well focus on the positives of squeamlessness, because Tim is what he is. Now and forever. And fortunately, we have, this very week, seen one of the brighter sides of this personality trait. Tim narrowly missed suspension (for a third incident of fighting on the playground) thanks to quick thinking plus the contents of his nostrils.
The problem was simple. A girl--a girl--challenged him to a fight. Never mind what for. Nobody seems to know. But we DO know that equality of the sexes means you pretty much have to fight all challengers, even the ones in eighties style ruffled micro-minis, and somehow refusing to fight a girl makes you even more than just the ordinary kind of chicken. As Tim earnestly explained, "I know I'm not supposed to fight girls, but I had no choice. It was an impeachment to my honor."
So, standing there on the playground nervously facing a girl, caught between the principal and at least a month without dessert on the one hand, and a lifetime of his classmates' scorn on the other, Tim needed a little miracle. Fortunately, this all happened on his birthday, and as he puts it, "I had a bit of birthday luck."
Just as the efficient machine of womanhood (this is second grade, remember, when the boys still lag behind the girls in both size and coordination) charged him, a brilliant thought occurred. Standing his ground, no doubt with that unholy and gleeful smile I love on his face, Tim quickly emptied the contents of his nose into his palms and held them straight out in front of his body. According to him, "It stopped her in her tracks!"
So much for Lorian, terror of the second grade. And if any of you wise guys have visions of explaining to Tim that "suspension" means a day off school ("This kid was so bad, we're going to give him a FREE VACATION!"), think again. Do it and I'll assign you to "office support duty" during the next playground incident crisis.
I noticed this summer when Tim visited Brett and Alison that suddenly Brett had all the great stories and I had none. I really am tremendously indebted to this creative, insightful, lovely child of mine. The ten minutes I spend tucking him in to bed are always richly repaid. I just hope that somehow, someway, I will be given the wisdom to help him connect with something that will lead him into the amazing adulthood he deserves. The fear that I may not be able to do it keeps me awake nights. I'm glad he has more than just me pulling for him.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Rivers of Mucus
Let that title be a WARNING to you. If you have a weak stomach, don't read on.
I've been overwhelmed by slimy green goop, which has in the last 24 hours pretty much solidified to the consistency of double bass rosin. Okay, so you've never seen a tub of double bass rosin. It's so viscous that it appears solid, but if you tip the little canister it comes in, you'll discover that over a period of hours it responds to the forces of gravity and moves into a new shape. Last night I lay down on my left cheek and over the eight hours that I slept (remember Mother's Day. They let me sleep in.), the approximately one gallon of semi-solid mucus in my head shifted left, leaving me with a terrific headache and a lopsidedly swollen face. Ugh. This is just the second sinus infection of my life, but I'm starting to understand why people go to such weird extremes (snorting the contents of a neti pot, installing eucalyptus steam jets in the shower, submitting to that surgery where they chisel out your sinus cavities) to try to avoid sinus problems.
Anyway. Done moaning, but trust me, I needed to.
New topic. I loved Women's Conference! The conversation started at the Seattle Airport, wove in and out of the next two days of classes, and didn't truly stop until we were back at the Airport. It was hard to say goodbye. The classes were good--inspiring, motivating, full of insights--but the company was the best. Hurrah for eternal and amusing families! This time I felt that power of sisterhood and it was more than a cliche. How amazing to be there with thousands and thousands of women dedicated to service and righteousness. I've never been able to see that beyond the outward stuff that bugs me, but this time I really got it (as Kim can testify--I was moved to tears in the the crocheted mittens line).
I also thought (during Women's Conference) that I had made a marvelous new health breakthrough--sudafed plus as many ibuprofen as necessary (a cocktail recommended to me by Brett a long time ago) doesn't just make you feel better--it RESTORES YOU TO HEALTH!! You can ignore that pesky little cold that was keeping you down. Travel, stay up all night, eat mint brownies, be merry, for tomorrow there will still be sudafed and vitamin I! Ah, the body takes its ultimate revenge. My sudafed no longer comforts me, and my ibuprofen no longer makes me well. I have come to the valley of the shadow of secondary infection and I have learned my lesson. I know, Dad, I know. I was driving the combine with the air conditioning on and the stereo up full blast. I won't do it again anytime soon. I am forty and I know it.
I've been overwhelmed by slimy green goop, which has in the last 24 hours pretty much solidified to the consistency of double bass rosin. Okay, so you've never seen a tub of double bass rosin. It's so viscous that it appears solid, but if you tip the little canister it comes in, you'll discover that over a period of hours it responds to the forces of gravity and moves into a new shape. Last night I lay down on my left cheek and over the eight hours that I slept (remember Mother's Day. They let me sleep in.), the approximately one gallon of semi-solid mucus in my head shifted left, leaving me with a terrific headache and a lopsidedly swollen face. Ugh. This is just the second sinus infection of my life, but I'm starting to understand why people go to such weird extremes (snorting the contents of a neti pot, installing eucalyptus steam jets in the shower, submitting to that surgery where they chisel out your sinus cavities) to try to avoid sinus problems.
Anyway. Done moaning, but trust me, I needed to.
New topic. I loved Women's Conference! The conversation started at the Seattle Airport, wove in and out of the next two days of classes, and didn't truly stop until we were back at the Airport. It was hard to say goodbye. The classes were good--inspiring, motivating, full of insights--but the company was the best. Hurrah for eternal and amusing families! This time I felt that power of sisterhood and it was more than a cliche. How amazing to be there with thousands and thousands of women dedicated to service and righteousness. I've never been able to see that beyond the outward stuff that bugs me, but this time I really got it (as Kim can testify--I was moved to tears in the the crocheted mittens line).
I also thought (during Women's Conference) that I had made a marvelous new health breakthrough--sudafed plus as many ibuprofen as necessary (a cocktail recommended to me by Brett a long time ago) doesn't just make you feel better--it RESTORES YOU TO HEALTH!! You can ignore that pesky little cold that was keeping you down. Travel, stay up all night, eat mint brownies, be merry, for tomorrow there will still be sudafed and vitamin I! Ah, the body takes its ultimate revenge. My sudafed no longer comforts me, and my ibuprofen no longer makes me well. I have come to the valley of the shadow of secondary infection and I have learned my lesson. I know, Dad, I know. I was driving the combine with the air conditioning on and the stereo up full blast. I won't do it again anytime soon. I am forty and I know it.
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