A Moral Conundrum

Oh what a beautiful Sabbath day it is ... don't you think? I have always enjoyed Sundays. They're so delightfully relaxing - no "to-do's" or obligations, just a day to enjoy this life that God gave us. On Sundays I quite prefer to frequent the piano playing. Growing up, I would play as my mother cooked sausage-gravy and biscuits for breakfast, and I would play as dinner cooked - I would basically play all day (seeing as most of my church callings from age 12 on have also involved piano playing).

So today, being Sunday, I want to play, but here's the problem ... neighbor Tom (is that what I chose to name him?) I know that Tom will call the cops. That's what he does now ... I play, he calls, they show up and ask if I'm hooked up to any "amplification devices" (you know, now that you mention it, I always have wanted a subwoofer and tweeter box hooked up to Spencer - the piano ... ), then Mr. Cop goes on his merry way. So, I will inadvertently be causing Officer "Sifo" to be working on the Sabbath if I choose to play the piano. Hence, the moral conundrum. What's a girl to do?

This is Gwen's Sanctuary - a bit unfinished (don't tell Casey that I still want to hang more things on the walls ...)

Casey hung the drapes for me the day I went into the hospital. It was quite a nice surprise when I came home.

On another subject, Gwen. I like her. I mean, of course I like her - she's bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh. You see, she's so mellow (if she was jaundiced we could call her "Mellow Yellow" ... ha ... ha ha). Addi - well, you definately wouldn't have described her infancy as "mellow". The nurses in the hospital nicknamed her "Princess Diva" because she was always vocalizing (whether it was crying or otherwise) and always had to have her way. That's pretty much Addi - she's a rambunctious, hard-headed, hyper-active ball of human that's so easy to love.

Gwen eats and sleeps, and when she's awake, she just sits and plays. She likes us to play with her hands and feet, fingers and toes, she likes to be rocked and learn how to use her arms, she likes tummy time, she's perfectly content just studying your face. And when she's tired, just swaddle her, give her a bit of milk, and she sleeps. No fighting the urge to allow the eyelids to drop like little paper mache curtains over her baby blues. That's Gwen. It's great! It's turned me into a baby lover (previously I was a toddler lover, and iffy on the whole 'baby' phase of life).

Casey is Mr. Amazing Dad. He assumes responsibility of Addi from the moment he arrives home. He even offered to take all nighttime feedings on weekend nights so I could get more sleep. The day after we came home from the hospital he left for work a bit late, around 6:30 am (he should be/usually leaves around 10 'til 6). About 3 hrs. later I called him to ask for help on some car trouble we were experiencing and he sounded quite groggy.

"Are you sleeping?"

"No. I'm driving."

"Where are you driving? Are you still not at work?" (I mean, it takes a while to get to Town, but 3 hrs.??)

pause ... long pause ... keep pausing

"I'm sleeping."

"Where are you?"

He hadn't even made it to 7-11. For those of you who know where that is, you realize that this is pretty stinkin' funny. As he turned onto Kam Hwy., he immediately pulled over in the large gravelly area between our house and 7-11 (approx. 1/8 mi. from our house) and slept ... for 3 hrs. ... with the car running so he could have A/C.

Me ... well, I think I could put the Dairy Farmers of America out of business. Seriously. How can one human produce so much milk??!

Got milk? Why yes, I do.