Precious In His Sight

Red and yellow, black and white they are precious in his sight...we all know the song. Today I hear those words in a different way than when I was a child. We registered Stephen for kindergarten on Friday. We were so excited because our baby is growing up and starting school (which also means that our daycare payment will go down $500 per month!) Abe took the afternoon off and we went over to the school with the necessary documents, got the packet of papers, and headed over to the table to fill them out. I did most of the writing (I do the writing in the family and Abe does the typing!) filling out the names, dates, and numbers. Then one box brought me to a immediate halt...RACE. I stammered around for a moment not really knowing what box to check. Now I love Abe for everything that he is...and he is a lot of things. Unfortunately they didn't have a Chinese, Portuguese, Puerto Rican, Polish, White box. Apparently I have never been faced with the question of the boys' race before. So I did the only thing that I could think of...I asked the audience! Well that was Abe. Now I love Abe for everything that he is...but he is a pleasing person (which makes him a great husband) but not the greatest Ask the Audience person. His answer...put what you want to put, whatever is going to make you happy. So I did the only thing I could think of...I phoned a friend! Well I don't how it works on TV, but my phone-a-friend was out to lunch (at 4:30 in the afternoon...thanks Amy!) So I did the only thing I could do...50/50! So I asked the computer man to eliminate any races that he wasn't. Well we still had several from which to choose. So after more discussion about all of the possibilities, I checked a box but it just didn't feel right. Now I love Abe for everything that he is...so it is important to me to show him and his heritage much respect. So our boys are not red or yellow, black or white...they are most of the above. So although I understand the requirements for the selection of a RACE on educational records, I say we should all be marked as God's People...precious in his sight!

Tomorrow's Lunch

So I was fixing tuna fish for lunch tomorrow and thinking the whole time about how it really sinks. (Not eating tuna fish for lunch but the smell of it.) So then the smell of it reminded me of one time I made it and took tuna fish sandwiches on the beach with Abe and some of his Ohana. By the time that we ate them they were soggy and gross...but we had a great time anyway! So all that led my mind on a quick tangent most likely caused by my episodes of ADHD. My question...why do smells conjure up such vivid memories? I studied all the modalities of learning (or whatever they called all that stuff in college) so I know that people learn differently. Maybe it is just me. Maybe others do not have as strong of an olfactory sensory thing as me. If only I could have used it to my advantage back in the day. If the smell of rotting pumpkins had helped me understand the decomposition of plant cells as much as it helps me recall the physics of picking up pumpkins on school with Amy and Daddy...I'm sure I would have done better in biology. If the smell of onions, peppers, and diesel exhaust brought to me as much knowledge of good economics as it does the perfect footlong hotdogs...I'm sure I'd have never paid $5.00 for 12 inches of heart attack in a bun. If I was as quick recognize a type-o or a misspelled word as I am to recognize the smell of brownies baking...my writing would likely be as easy to read as a brownie is to eat. If the smell of Abe (right up around his neck...not cologne...just him) didn't still make me think about when we first snuggled at the old house...I might be quicker to go sleep somewhere else when he is SNORING. If the sweet essence of baby (soft skin, spit up, poopie, and all) wasn't just the greatest, maybe I would not still think about how great it would be to have another one if it would fit in our budget. If the smell of hospital soap didn't put a knot in my stomach and still make me want to cry...I probably would not realize how gratful I always should be. Wait...Wait don't think I'm getting too mushy...there is the smell of tobacco curing on a cool summer night. And what about leaves burning in the fall or a fire place in the winter? Ooh, what about the smell of the purple ink of a ditto machine or a new box of crayons. Or what about newly cut grass or a freshly plowed field...that makes me think of my cute little shoes that I left a little too close to where Daddy was plowing and never saw again. I could go on forever but right now the sweet smell of a cool pillow, some cotton sheets, and a man with the greatest smell in the world (that none of you better ever get close enough to smell) is calling my name.