When I was a little boy, my Dad used to amuse me and my siblings with stories of a relative who wasn’t very appreciative of gifts. Part of the problem was that nobody seemed to know what he wanted, and so (as a grown man) he received a lot of neckties. As the story went, he opened the box (already guessing what it was by its shape) and, in a sneering, nasally, flatly-disappointed voice, declared: “Oh. Another tie.”

My Dad never did tell us which hapless relative it was, but I’ll bet his luck never changed.

I can imagine poor Uncle Elmer enduring flat, elongated packages for the rest of his life. “Well, dear,” Aunt Eunice would say, as they sat together in a nursing home, “here are your presents from the family: hey, look, a long rectangular package about the shape of … a tie! And another one! How exciting!” My imaginary Aunt Eunice always did have a sarcastic tongue.

Rachel is very skilled at having something gracious to say.

Gift variety hasn’t been much of problem for me, ever since Amazon created their Wish List. Now, if I’m shopping on Amazon for someone else, and I see something I would like, I just pop it into my wish list. Patiently, I wait for my birthday or Christmas to arrive, watching hopefully (but discreetly) for the UPS truck outside. I try to keep my wish list well-populated so there is still the opportunity for surprise, and, of course, many have their own ideas of what would be the best gift. I try not to discourage such folks — it is, after all, a free country.

Well, sort of. For some values of ‘free’, anyway.

I don’t get many ties, either. This is a good thing, since I only wear them to funerals.

I remember my poor Dad’s birthdays, when I was a kid. He was lucky to get a can of cashews to celebrate the day of his birth. He would often pull out all the stops when remembering my Mom’s birthday, but there never seemed to be many presents on the breakfast table when February 3rd rolled around. Maybe everyone was gifted-out from Groundhog Day; but it happened at Christmas, too. Dad used to re-wrap puzzles and model train cars he had received in prior years just to make it look more festive – this was particularly embarrassing when it turned out that he had purchased the original gift himself.

The kids made me a great birthday sign.

As a forty-mumble-something Dad, I didn’t really have my hopes very high. Dads are supposed to be stoically selfless, deferring their own gratification for the good of the family, soldiering on across a barren and gift-less landscape. As our budget continues to rage, I know exactly how much has been set aside for my birthday (including decorations and any special meal ingredients). It doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle-room for Kathy, if she wanted to inundate me with presents.

Imagine my surprise to find a whole laundry basket full of gifts from various family members. I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of generosity and kindness – I felt very well-loved and cared for, from all sides.

Joshua cared for me so well, he ate cake in my honor.

It was a very good day. I had to work some in the morning, but was nearly done by the time my parents came by to shower me with presents and eat lunch with us. Then Kathy and I went on a ‘hot date’ to Cash & Carry, a low-cost bulk food store in our area which we recently ‘discovered’.

Coming home, we spent some time experimenting with our rendition of Panida’s Thai Curry, with some considerable success and enjoyment. Dropping the kids off at church for AWANA and youth group, we had a little time to go for a quick walk and for me to play a computer game.

Kathy made a Black Forest Cake for me (my favorite kind of cake) and, although it slipped and oozed, it was very tasty. We ended the day with family devotions.

Sarah graciously agreed to eat cake with us.

There were lots of things I wanted to do, including playing a board game, reading aloud a story from one of my new books, and working on a secret project for Joshua’s birthday. I often find there is usually more fun than time available in my plans. Still, it was a great and celebratory day; I am indeed blessed.

Nobody seemed to mind the oozing.

Tim

While we were in Texas with Kathy’s relatives, we were careful to observe all the Traditions. We spent time each day at the pool, and covered dozens of miles in golf cart rides. We ate large quantities of Mexican food, or at least American food made up to look Mexican. We played games and read books and even made a pilgrimage to Alamo Village.

Kathy’s brother and his children were often to be found behind the wheel of a golf cart.

And then there was Pico’s. An otherwise unremarkable gas station chain, Pico’s has the rare distinction to offer the world’s largest (at least in my experience) ‘Single Scoop Ice Cream’ for $1.19.

Pico’s. Now the secret is out.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I’ll have to provide a picture; each ‘Single Scoop’ is really a compacted mass of ice cream requiring more than a dozen individual scoops on the part of the server.

Sarah already ate quite a bit off the top.

Kathy’s Dad and I are not very alike (he’s well-educated, urbane and handy, while I am, er, not) but we share at least one passion: neither of us can pass up a bargain. For this reason, as the last dishes were washed after dinner each evening, a quiet refrain would begin to buzz on the lips of the children:

“Pico’s. Pico’s. Pico’s.”

Clearly, I was standing in a low spot in the parking lot, which allowed Kathy’s brother, her Dad, and my own son to tower over me.

Grand-Dad would look up from his book with a twinkle in his eye. “Did someone say ‘Pico’s’?”

I would wander in from the porch, licking my lips. “Did someone say, ‘Pico’s’?”

And so we would drive the mile or so into ‘town’ and pile out of our minivans to stand in front of the ice cream case.

“What are your flavors today,” we’d ask. “We’ll need eleven, no, twelve ‘Single Scoops’,” we would confide to the server.

“Rosalita,” the girl at the cash register would yell, “you come serve these customers while I check the stock-room.” Rosalita had a strong arm from all that scooping.

Mint Chocolate Chip and Banana Split were two of the favorites, although Butter Pecan and Rocky Road were well-favored as well. One night (gasp!) they had nothing but Vanilla, and we all suffered with home-made brownies.

Everybody got Mint Chocolate Chip that day … everyone, except me, that is.

We had a great time with Kathy’s brother, his children, and Kathy’s parents; but when the stories are told about this vacation, I’ll bet Pico’s will have a prominent place.

These girls were later arrested for loitering, which really livened up the worship service.

Yesterday I attended a follow-up visit with my physician, to discuss the results of my recent physical and lab testing. Now that I’m firmly in my 40’s, I have begun to hesitantly grapple with the idea that I might not be immortal and invulnerable, no matter how many times I watched Stallone or Schwarzenegger movies as a young man.

I told my doctor about Pico’s, my eyes sparkling as a reminiscent smile wreathed my face. “I figure I gained a few pounds,” I chortled unrepentantly. (People with a double chin have an advantage when it comes to chortling, and I made the best of that competitive edge.)

“Yep. Looks like you’re up six pounds since I saw you last, less than two months ago.” My doctor didn’t seem to think it was quite so funny.

I mentally reviewed my options:

1. Find a fat doctor
2. Never get another physical for the rest of my (probably short) life
3. Break into my doctor’s office (each time I have an appointment) and inflate the previous visit’s weight, so it always looks like I’m losing.
4. Investigate my doctor for some vice and ruthlessly blackmail him into silence
5. Attempt to intimidate my physician so that he’s afraid to bring up the subject of weight
6. Change my lifestyle and lose some weight

Doctor’s don’t tend to be fat. Oh, you’ll find a plump one from time to time, but I’ve been cursed with skinny ones the last 10 years or so. They have to learn to live without food or sleep during their time as an intern and resident, and the habits tend to stick, from what I can tell.

Not my actual doctor.

My doctor doesn’t seem to be the kind I could easily intimidate, and I’m not sure he has any easily exploitable vices. Kathy won’t let me avoid annual physicals, and I think it is too late to build my marriage on a pattern of lies, having been pretty forthright up to this point.

The possibilities having narrowed, my course is clear: I must find a way to falsify my weight records each time I visit. On the way out, I carefully cased the office for windows wide enough to allow ingress. It would be poetically embarrassing if I became wedged in a window while engaged in this enterprise.

In the unlikely event that this crafty scheme fails me, and just to give our readers something on which to comment, I’ll throw out this question:

What is the single best lifestyle change you have made to lose weight?

Maybe I’ll do some sit-ups while I wait for your answers.

Tim

I changed your diaper.

Sometimes there are irrational, odd thoughts racing around my mind. I’m not proud of them. Mostly I manage to keep them all to myself.

Next thing you know they’ll be asking for my car keys. Gasp!

Tonight Joshua and I drove our visiting guest to the airport. Looking at the pictures of me flanked by these tall young men with their deepening voices, long legs and huge feet I couldn’t help but think one thing:

I knew you both when you were babies with chubby cheeks and kissable toes…I changed your diapers.

I know, it’s embarrassing and a bit shocking - such talk should be avoided at all costs. I can’t help it. I’m a mother and the years have raced on ahead of me. I see the handsome, godly grownups you are becoming, but in the shadow, visible if I peer closely, I still see my firstborn baby and his little friend.

Sigh. Go on, grow up. There doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.

You can tell I accept my aging gracefully.

Kathy
Project 366 - Day 232

We rescued Rachel from the perils of horse camp this morning. She’s been slaving away this past week, caring for the horses (can you say “mucking stables?”), taking riding lessons, playing in the lake and learning more about the Lord.

It’s a difficult life.

This morning there was a show for the parents. What an incredible sight to see Rachel horseback riding so confidently.

A huge thank goes out to Rachel’s close friends, Jenny and Sarah, and their sisters who helped with Rachel’s camp fees. You girls are awesome!!!

Rachel and Sarah greet the campers.

We’re very glad to have Rachel home, safe and sound.

Kathy

On Wednesday one of Joshua’s oldest friends flew into town for a visit. David’s mom, a few years older than me, was one of my spiritual mentors while I was in high school and college. She sang at my wedding and has been a dear friend for many years. Last summer while we were visiting David’s family in Michigan, we casually discussed the idea of David coming to Washington for a visit some time.

Joshua, David and a random little brother hit the pool hard last June.

“Sure! We’d love to have him,” I said enthusiastically. It’ll never happen, I thought to myself. This is just one of those friendly, polite comments people make when they want to convey their affection.

“Mom,” Joshua said to me several months later, “David and I have been writing back and forth. You know, letters with paper, envelopes and stamps, I’m sure you’ve heard of the US Postal Service. Anyway, he mentioned something about coming to visit this summer. I told him which weeks were good for us. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Mmmm, that’s nice dear,” I responded, giving him my “absolute full attention” while making dinner, listening to my new cd and refereeing a fight between Daniel and Rachel. “Those boys, full of wild plans,” I mused.

Three weeks ago I received a voice mail from Nancy, David’s mom. “Kathy, we’re so excited. We’ve got reservations for David. How is the third week of August? Call me back. We’re buying the tickets tonight!”

What?? I was truly delighted, yet a little surprised. I didn’t really believe they would send David all the way across the country (okay, partly across the US) to see Joshua. What a treat! Joshua and I made plans to fill the time and show David some of our favorite parts of Washington.

Sometimes you have to push those good friends OFF!

Prospective Activities

1) An afternoon at the lake
2) An overnight in the Duckabush
3) A hike up around Mt. Rainier
4) A day in Seattle
5) As many board games as we can fit in between our adventuring.

The Duckabush River is COLD! These boys actually went IN the river. Brrrrr.

Perfect! It doesn’t hurt that the weather has been gorgeous this week. Lots of sunshine and warm days. In fact, it might be just a little too warm for Joshua. He prefers the typical Washington climate which hovers in the low 60’s. And he actually likes rain.

We’ve greatly enjoyed David so far. He’s polite, helpful and pleasant to be around (he and Joshua even made dinner tonight). The only grievance against him is that he is actually taller than Joshua, and has been for quite a while.

“He cheats,” Joshua confided. “Both his parents are rather tall.”

Tim and I aren’t pipsqueaks, but we both felt rather diminished by the comparison.

Apart from that, though, David is good company (he’s a gamer) and a great friend for Joshua. Into every relationship, a little rain must fall, I guess.

Anyone else want to come for a visit?

Call first!

Kathy
Project 366, Day 228