Veteran's Day

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.--John McCrae (1872-1918)

***

After the excitement of the past couple weeks, we don't have as much to report, so I thought I'd demonstrate a little of my literary background by introducing a poem relevant to veteran's day. (Dan says I'm trying to keep up with the Justin's . . . I mean Jones's).

Some highlights from the week: (Justin will, I'm sure, accuse us again of devoting too much time to the excretory functions of our son, but this one is merited.) Andrew went to the bathroom on the potty for the first time! We were quite excited, although less excited about the prospect of potty training that now seems to loom in his future. (Although probably not for some time, as subsequent attempts to repeat this feat produced absolutely nothing).

On Wednesday, desperate to amuse ourselves and our kids (and also trying to fulfill Bubby's request that I find a scone recipe for Thanksgiving), Jeni and I hosted a tea-party for the kids. Bubby would be so proud of us--we had scones, hot chocolate (in little mugs and saucers), "fairy bread" (bread and butter with sprinkles), cucumber sandwiches, and little carrot-cake cupcakes. I'm not sure that the kids enjoyed it quite as much as Jeni and I did, but we all had a good time. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera, so pictures will be forthcoming once I get them from Jeni.

We've been enjoying a beautiful late "Indian Summer," with mild daytime temperatures and sunshine, and we've tried to take full advantage of that. Andrew has been to the park almost every day this week, and we've been twice to feed the ducks. On Saturday, Dan and I took him to the park and Dan snapped photos while Andrew fed the ducks goldfish (well, and alternated with sitting on the rocks and feeding himself said goldfish). It really was a beautiful day, and we noticed for the first time the brightly colored fish in the pond. (You can see the red shapes in the second photo here).







This morning, Dan and I both gave talks in Sacrament meeting on the Proclamation on the Family. The youth speaker, who was supposed to take twelve minutes (the other youth speaker apparently did a bunk), only spoke for about five, so when I got up to speak there were a full forty minutes left in the meeting. Luckily for me and Dan (although perhaps not so fortunately for the audience), I had plenty of material (read: I can be long-winded), so I was able to take up a fair amount of time, leaving Dan just enough time for his talk. The only real hitch was when Andrew escaped from the watchful eye of his father and ran up to the front of the chapel, mounted the steps to the podium, and came to stand directly behind me, from which position he was quickly rescued by his father. Mine, of course, was the wordy, theoretical talk; Dan actually made people laugh several times. And we know his talk was a big hit with the younger crowd, because an eleven-year-old boy in the ward told us as we were leaving church that he liked Dan's talk (and even repeated part of it to demonstrate that he'd listened to it), and then proceeded to tell Dan all about him as he walked most of the way home with us.

Other than this, the week has been pretty quiet and uneventful. I workshopped my last chapter with my dissertation group on Friday, and am just waiting for word from my advisor before making the final changes and sending the whole thing to my committee (for me, this is good news! The end is actually in sight). Andrew and I played, Dan worked, and the week passed.


(Andrew, modeling a pair of his mother's pants. Obviously, he still has a little room to grow).