4.22.07

Dear Reader,

We congratulate you on pulling yourself reluctantly away from that admirable and intoxicating pastime of watching the returns for the first go-round of the forthcoming French presidential election. We, of course, throw all the influence of the imperial might and sway of this illustrious blog behind the pugnacious M. Sarkozy. Why? Because The Economist does. In other news of almost unimaginable surprise, it has gotten warm in New Haven. Who would have thought it possible? No one, Reader, no one. We would also like to take a moment to thank the ten of you who spoke in behalf of the silent millions by commenting on last week’s post. We exempt from this general expression of gratitude the hoary-headed poster of mature age who had the temerity uncharitably to accuse us of “pandering for comments.” To pander is to cater basely; the call to post on this illustrious blog, on the other hand, is a call for our intergalactic readership to respond the high moral resolve that is within them. We here renew that call, and we proceed with the latest installment of our inestimable review:

Monday (April 16): As millions around the country scrambled to file their taxes and hurled a collective imprecation at the memory of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and the bureaucratic monster he helped create, the heavens opened and inundated New Haven with torrential rainfall of Noachian proportions. The upshot for us was that our basement flooded. Lia and the girls learned this happy fact when they descended into said basement for the purpose of doing laundry. All the world knows that the most effective response to a flooded basement is to play in it, so Lia donned her hydro-resistant sandals and pulled the girls all through the deluge in their wagon which was conveniently already in the basement. The ladies even had the industry to make sailboats out of newspaper advertisements, one of which doubled as a three-cornered hat for Julia. In the evening we went to Eva Allen’s house for FHE, where we planted seeds to be cultivated through the summer in Eva’s garden. Eva rewarded us for our industry and our company with a private concert on her beautiful harp.

Tuesday (April 17): Lia took the girls to the ward playgroup in the morning. A few days before Lia had produced a handsome but flamboyant pink, sparkly skirt which she modeled for her bedazzled husband. She then asked Justin if he thought it fit for Church and this man suggested gently that it might be a bit much. Not finding this response to her liking, Lia today took the quite sensible step of modeling it for her ward sisters at play group, protesting in a tone of abject martyrdom that her oppressive husband thought it inappropriate Sunday garb, and—having thus predisposed the jury to render a verdict in her favor—asked the other ladies what they thought of the matter. Amazingly, they all responded with one voice that the skirt was magnificently beautiful and the very paradigm of appropriate Sabbath apparel. Lia felt duly vindicated and let her hapless husband know it. Tracy came over today and subjected Eli to another vigorous routine of physical therapy. After this Lia took the girls to the health center for some immunizations. Julia, brave as a lion, shed not a single tear. When the nurse told Julia what a brave girl she was, Julia quoted Epictetus and added something of her own about the stoic’s knowing nothing of bravery, but everything of duty.

Wednesday (April 18): Eli’s scheduled appointment for aquatherapy fell right in the middle of Lia’s French class, so Justin helped Eli fill the appointment while Julia played with Callie. Eli, who heretofore has spent most of her pool visits engaged in the venerable sport of screaming, didn’t shed a single tear this time (she obviously realized that between the tedium of her father and the terrors of the pool these latter represented far the lesser of two evils).

Thursday (April 19): Lia went to girls night out in the evening. The “out” in the evening’s title was given a liberal construction indeed—in this case referring to the church, where the women of the Relief Society came together as sisters in Zion for a rousing session of Yoga. Justin stayed home with the girls where a confused Julia, upon hearing where her mommy was and what she was up to, spent the rest of the evening speaking in the convoluted accents of the world’s favorite diminutive green Jedi.

Friday (April 20): Another physical therapist, this one calling herself Stephanie, came to see Eli today. In the evening we went with Addie and Callie LaDuke to the divinity school where we witnessed an evening spectacle billed under the title of “Div idol.” The highlight of the evening was a fire-tossing show put on by a Jewish Divinity student soon bound, we are told, for a Ph.D. program at Brown. She was really amazing and left quite an impression on Julia who, during family scripture study, referred to this feminine thrower of fire when Lia read a familiar phrase about a lake of fire and brimstone. Eli and Callie were decidedly less impressed with the evening’s festivities—both were terrified by the darkness and the loud noises masquerading as music and spent much of the evening clinging to their respective mothers, convulsed by small tremors.

Saturday (April 21): Justin and his cohort, Kirk Cheney, met early at the law school to take a final practice test before the marathon Source & Citation Exam they will both take nine days from now in an effort to add a line to their respective resumes indicating that in the days of their youth they were editors on the Yale Law Journal. The practice exam went okay, but things went downhill when Kirk gave Justin a ride home and Justin, as a gesture of thanks, invited Kirk inside for lunch. Finding the house empty, Justin took the perilous step of providing lunch himself. Knowing that no one can muff grilled cheese sandwiches, Justin immediately set the grill a-humming and began foraging about for the necessary ingredients. Unfortunately, the only non-frozen bread he found was of a cinnamon-raisin vintage. He warned Kirk of this fact, but they both agreed that custom and normality should be subordinated to the higher cause of eliminating hunger. When Lia and the girls entered the house to the smell of cinnamon-raisin bread sizzling on the grill, Lia was furious and berated the offending party in terms unprintable for wasting four slices of ineffably good bread in such a disastrous enterprise. But Justin and Kirk ate the sandwiches with a hardy good will and spited Lia by pretending to like them. In the evening we had some new friends, Solin and Alana and their daughter, Isabella, (about 20 mos.) over for a pizza dinner. We had a fine time and Lia might at some future date become Isabella’s occasional babysitter. The sweetest episode of the day, and the last we shall record in this blog, transpired while Justin was off taking his practice test and Eli sought to capitalize on the resultant lessened supervision. While Julia was engaged in some escapade or another that required Lia’s attention, Eli quietly disappeared from sight. Lia was quite shocked to find the living room empty upon reentering it after leaving only for a few seconds. Lia’s momentary panic gave way to curiosity and relief when she heard a faint giggling from somewhere in the house that was unmistakably Eli’s. Lia followed the sound into the bathroom where she found an impish Eli sitting contentedly in an empty bathtub, too proud to speak of her industrious achievement. We’re measurably less proud of the quality of this blog; but at least it must have sufficed, dear Reader, to lull you to sleep of a Sabbath evening.

[I'll post Julia in her newspaper hat, Eli in the tub, and a few other choice gems tomorrow.]