We hope all our readers had a happy 14th of July, storming the Bastilles of their lives with shouts of liberty, fraternity, and equality; and dicing their onions with miniature guillotines. We sure did.
Inflamed as we have been by revolutionary fervor and the spirit of '89, we have not entirely lost of revolutionary commitment to become fun. We have only mostly lost it. Even so, the past week has not been without its historic incidents (see below). 
Here's Eli doing what Eli does best. The good earth has never known such an indefatigable picker of flowers.
Julia, flower charmingly tucked behind her ear, fills Prospect Street with the sound of her Saturday-evening's yodel.
What would life be like without dancing with your sister in your pajamas? And what are the implications of this suggestion for my life?
Just down the street from us, on the gently sloping hills to the south of Bett's house, stands the Werner Family Observatory. We have never actually been inside the Werner Family Observatory, but Lia took Eli to play outside of it one day recently, and Julia has seethed with jealousy ever since. Applying the principle of the parable of the unjust judge, Julia begged and begged and begged to go to the observatory until, last night, to purchase Julia's silence, we ignored the heat and went. One of the main attractions of the observatory is this really long swing . . .
that stands as a source of joy for both the newest and oldest citizens of the Republic of fun.
Another very fun thing in life is to be set up in a tree and to think of what it would be like to be a monkey.
Eli took her turn on the swing quite seriously, trying with all the intensity and resolve of her slender frame to have as much fun as that frame could hold.
I thought I could snatch a turn of my own on the swing with impunity, but Julia grabbed the camera and snapped this picture. At least my left hand partially covers the photographic evidence that I was enjoying myself.
Imagine the terror of encountering such a fearsome twosome in the wild.
Julia took this one too. She thought being photographed would cheer Katharine up. It cheered up Lia.
Julia claimed to be looking for her sandals here.
Eli claimed to be helping in the hunt. (But where were Eli's own sandals?)
All the refinement of a Victorian bourgeois idyll--Mother at the piano; big sisters dancing; little sister in Mother's lap; father, rendered irrelevant, standing aside and taking pictures.
Here's Eli doing what Eli does best. The good earth has never known such an indefatigable picker of flowers.
Julia, flower charmingly tucked behind her ear, fills Prospect Street with the sound of her Saturday-evening's yodel.
What would life be like without dancing with your sister in your pajamas? And what are the implications of this suggestion for my life?
Just down the street from us, on the gently sloping hills to the south of Bett's house, stands the Werner Family Observatory. We have never actually been inside the Werner Family Observatory, but Lia took Eli to play outside of it one day recently, and Julia has seethed with jealousy ever since. Applying the principle of the parable of the unjust judge, Julia begged and begged and begged to go to the observatory until, last night, to purchase Julia's silence, we ignored the heat and went. One of the main attractions of the observatory is this really long swing . . .
that stands as a source of joy for both the newest and oldest citizens of the Republic of fun.
Another very fun thing in life is to be set up in a tree and to think of what it would be like to be a monkey.
Eli took her turn on the swing quite seriously, trying with all the intensity and resolve of her slender frame to have as much fun as that frame could hold.
I thought I could snatch a turn of my own on the swing with impunity, but Julia grabbed the camera and snapped this picture. At least my left hand partially covers the photographic evidence that I was enjoying myself.
Imagine the terror of encountering such a fearsome twosome in the wild.
Julia took this one too. She thought being photographed would cheer Katharine up. It cheered up Lia.
Julia claimed to be looking for her sandals here.
Eli claimed to be helping in the hunt. (But where were Eli's own sandals?)
All the refinement of a Victorian bourgeois idyll--Mother at the piano; big sisters dancing; little sister in Mother's lap; father, rendered irrelevant, standing aside and taking pictures.Another highlight of recent weeks has been having our old friend, Dave Pinegar, in town. Dave is a podiatry student, doing a series of one-month rotations in the Eastern states, the current one being in and around New Haven. To avoid the burden of such rapid sequential moves, Dave's family are staying with grandparents in Utah. This leaves Dave with no ready excuse to refuse our frequent invitations to hang out with us.
On Thursday, Dave turned 29. We knew this thanks to a chance comment on the Pinegar blog, and planned a triumphant surprise party. The surprise went off without a hitch. We regaled Dave with cookies, the gift of a book (creative of us), dinner, and the embarrassment of wearing our family's traditional birthday boy hat.
The girls adore Dave--in part because he's so tall, in part because of the multisyllabic pleasure of repeating "Brother Pinegar" again and again in squeals of piercing enthusiasm.
Our days usually begin with Katharine making an outrageous food demand (a fruit bar at 6:45 a.m.) for instance, and her older sisters following suit. Here are Katharine and Julia in a moment of contented, pre-dawn gluttony. Okay, so not quite pre-dawn, since it gets light here before 5.
Julia reads stories to Dave to help him stay current with children's literature.
Julia, Elias, Katharine, Eli, and Madi. How did children survive summer before there were popsicles?
I have never known anyone to study a periodical with half the assiduity Julia applies to her monthly installments of The Friend. Though if I had lived three centuries ago, I might have given her a run for her money in my devotion to The Rambler or The Spectator.
On Thursday, Dave turned 29. We knew this thanks to a chance comment on the Pinegar blog, and planned a triumphant surprise party. The surprise went off without a hitch. We regaled Dave with cookies, the gift of a book (creative of us), dinner, and the embarrassment of wearing our family's traditional birthday boy hat.
The girls adore Dave--in part because he's so tall, in part because of the multisyllabic pleasure of repeating "Brother Pinegar" again and again in squeals of piercing enthusiasm.
Our days usually begin with Katharine making an outrageous food demand (a fruit bar at 6:45 a.m.) for instance, and her older sisters following suit. Here are Katharine and Julia in a moment of contented, pre-dawn gluttony. Okay, so not quite pre-dawn, since it gets light here before 5.
Julia reads stories to Dave to help him stay current with children's literature.
Julia, Elias, Katharine, Eli, and Madi. How did children survive summer before there were popsicles?
I have never known anyone to study a periodical with half the assiduity Julia applies to her monthly installments of The Friend. Though if I had lived three centuries ago, I might have given her a run for her money in my devotion to The Rambler or The Spectator.
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3 comments:
Justin, you are never--and shall never be--rendered irrelevant. Julia is a marvelous photographer. I'd love to meet, not just the ferocious two, but all the ferocious Collings' ladies in any wild, at any time. Even August.
The implications for your life, lest Mindy's prediction not prevail, is that you must dance with Eli. (And all those fine ladies in your household.) The danger is that Julia might insist only and always on the female role, leaving Eli with underlying insecurity undermining otherwise certain future grace in a ballroom.
F-U-N post! My favorite just may be Justin's hand conveniently blocking any smile he may have mid-swing.
So nice to see Bro. Pinegar hanging out with you guys too. We are jealous (of him)!
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