Sapo Verde a Ti

Hang around us long enough, and you will eventually be here for a birthday. And we Kerrs don't settle for a standard "Happy Birthday" ...we may very well wish you a green frog: Sapo verde to you!

This started when we lived in Costa Rica, where, inexplicably, people preferred to sing "Happy Birthday" in English, or as close to English as they could. (I've encountered this attitude in many places, but a Portuguese friend explained it most succinctly: "When we get to heaven, we will speak in Portuguese. But we will still sing in English." All the good songs are in English. Now you know.) If you're familiar with a Latin American accent, you can start to see how, with some enthusiasm and vague familiarity with the words, happy birthday can start to sound like sapo verde. Green frog to you!

* * *

So Aiden is five now. He spent most of the day jumping around with a five-kilowatt grin on his face, just absolutely delighted to be FIVE. I gave him one present at breakfast (which also seems to be more Kerr family tradition than anything else) and by the time I got home from work, Paul and Martha were also there.

There were presents; there was cake.

There was a fun game of catch in the backyard with Aiden's new foxtail ball.

Wait, where's that ball going?

There was a lot of questionable throwing technique.

There was giggling and laughing until certain birthday persons could no longer stand up.

Much of the rest of the weekend was spent reading the "funny cat book" (Martha gave Aiden a Garfield compendium) to Aiden and Fiona. I'd forgotten how much I'd latched on to that comic when I was about that age. I didn't get half of it, fresh off the plane from Costa Rica (What's this "lasagna" they keep talking about? Wait, it's pronounced how?) but it didn't take long for me to catch on. I'd also forgotten how much physical humor there is in it; the kids think it's hilarious. I guess I've forgotten what it's like to be a kid.

...a kid who understood sapo verde, but not lasagna.

Wonder what our kids will think is perfectly normal?

What Summer Tastes Like

This is what summer tastes like to me: Zucchini spaghetti. Zucchini and tomatoes from our own garden. Sweet, slick onions. A dash or so of olive oil and parmesan. Ahhh.

A New Look

So, yes. I had meant to sit down and write a new blog post tonight, while we sweltered here, and Deborah sewed, but the "customize your blog" button caught my eye, and... well, now I'm writing a post about how I didn't write a post.

What do you think of the new look?

UPDATE: OK, so the initial reaction to the shades-o'-blue scheme was rather underwhelming. I shall try again...

UPDATE 2: Can't please nobody. Back to the same-ol' same-old.

Green-Eyed Monster

I don't know who this guy is, or what kind of plane it is, but he's out there, flying over Warsaw and Winona Lake just about every blue, sunny day, rolling, wheeling, diving, having a great time. He pulled off what sure sounded like a loop right over the backyard yesterday.

It makes me smile every time I see him up there. Frankly... I'm a bit jealous!

For BIG mistakes

There is a story that has become legend in my family. One afternoon, almost 40 years ago, my sister was supposed to be taking a nap. She got out the crayons instead. She then proceeded to draw a mural on the wall, as high as she could reach, and as long as the bed was wide. (Ah, but she'd "stayed in bed," right?) Given that this was in a rented apartment, this was a problem. You can't just paint over crayon — it acts as a resist — it has to be removed. So my parents picked up an eraser, and for the next several weeks (perhaps even months) my sister would have to sit there, every day, working away at the crayon marks until they were all done.

I have seen this eraser. It's about four inches across, and about eight inches long, and aside from a very worn corner, what stands out most is the print on the side: FOR BIG MISTAKES.

* * *

I've been discovering crayon marks on the walls again. We've got the oldest of our young artists paper-trained, but Risanna has been taking an interest in the arts as well.

Yes, baby! PAPER! Paper is a good place to draw!

The marks on the walls and cabinets remain, though. So today, Deborah brought home an eraser...

Yep! Same thing, 35+ years later!

Isn't it great that such things can continue from generation to generation?

Update on Allan, Part II

I just got off the phone with Carolyn (my mother-in-law; my mother is also named Carolyn; the poor kids are going to think "Carolyn" and "Grandma" are interchangeable) for an update on Allan. He got home from the hospital on Monday, and is on a slow, steady program to get his strength back. The stent he has in is apparently coated in a medicine that helps dissolve the plaque directly at the site. Nurses are visiting about twice a week to check in on him and work on his rehabilitation, and treadmill tests are scheduled about two weeks out.

Hurrah, he's home!

Update on Allan

Since I last wrote here, Allan:

• is off all medicines but one
• no longer has the balloon pump, as his heart can beat on its own
• is out of the ICU (Intensive Care Unit)
• is pacing up and down the halls (for some reason, reading that made me think, "Yup, that's him." I can imagine a certain amount of muttering as he goes.)

The latest word is that should be going home tomorrow!