Feline-- adj. meaning "of the cat family"

Feline.

I know many people don't consider themselves "cat folks." I didn't either before marrying Mike. He introduced me to the fun and frustrations of cat ownership.

We have a precocious cat. When we adopted her last summer, the boys were allowed to pick out a name for her. Zachary's first choice was Rainbow, because, as he said, girls love rainbows and she is a girl cat. After some discussion (and let's just acknowledge here that the discussion lasted far too long), he decided that Rainbow should be a middle name and he finally settled on the name Molly Rainbow Bishop. Let me also say here that any decision that Zachary makes is greatly deliberated and discussed. When he finally FINALLY made his decision I wouldn't have cared if he'd decided to name her Vomit or Gloob, just as long as the stinkin' cat had a name.

Anyway, she is part of our family now and she is a creature of habit. Her morning routine involves chasing the boys around while they are getting dressed. She especially loves to nip at their socks and pull at their pant legs with her claws. Depending on their moods, this either causes the boys to laugh hysterically or cry. One extreme or the other.

At midmorning she retires to her place of rest, which is on top of Alec's bed. She loves Alec's room and is usually either sleeping on his bed or hiding underneath it, peeking out from under the bedskirt and ready to grab at unsuspecting toes. The irony here is that Molly and Alec are arch enemies. She picks on him the most and he's usually throwing a toy at her because she is nipping at his toes again.

Her newest toys are my hair bands. Think extra large rubber bands. I was storing them in the small basket that is on our bathroom counter, but she kept pulling them out and I'd find the colorful bands strewn about the house, or wrapped around the cat. So I started putting them into the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink. She likes to sit in the bathroom watching me while I get ready in the mornings and, apparently, she spied the hair bands when I opened the cabinet. Just a day or two after I'd relocated the bands, I found her worrying at one of them. She couldn't open the cabinet door, but she could slip a claw up underneath and pull on the hair band. She pulled the thing entirely out of the cabinet. Persistence is one of those frustrating cat qualities. Frustrating but funny.

Feline.

Follow-- v. meaning to go after

Follow.

"Come on, Mommy. Follow me!" "Look!" "Watch me!" "Mommy! Follow me!"

What would it be like if I actually took an entire day to just follow them around? To walk behind them, not as a protector constantly grabbing a hand or as a tidier constantly picking up the toys, but to to just walk behind and observe and enjoy?

This morning the boys discovered that one of their bouncy balls glows in the dark. This is not something that I would have ever ascertained on my own. Why? Because it never would have occurred to me to sit huddled underneath a fleece Batman blanket holding a small bouncy ball just to see what would happen. They were snuggled together underneath Zach's blanket giggling and saying "Wow!" And I have to admit that when they pulled me underneath the blanket to observe their discovery, it was pretty stinkin' cool! The blue bouncy ball took on this unearthly green glow in the darkness.

What if I skipped and hopped behind Alec as he skipped and hopped his way to the bathroom (every 30 minutes or so)? What would happen if I turned off my automatic "No" answer to questions like, "Can we play light sabers in the bathtub?" or "Can we sleep in the living room tonight?" or "Can we have ice cream for breakfast?" What would happen?

I don't know. Probably nothing more than a lot of giggling and exclamations of "Wow!"

Maybe I should just follow along.

Follow.

Food! noun meaning... you know.

Food. My passion, my vice. I love it and I hate it!

I am on a quest for some tasty (yet low fat) crock pot meals. Does anyone have a good recipe to share?

Fidgety-- an adj. meaning restless

Fidgety.

Today I am feeling fidgety. We have been in the state of Washington for almost two years, and are expecting to spend another year here before being transferred next summer (July 09). I am both impatient and unwilling to make this next move. It should, Lord willing, be our last transfer before Mike's time with the Navy will end. We're hopeful that the transfer will send us back to Millington, Tennessee, which will put us much closer to our families and to dear friends who are in Tennessee, Arkansas, and Texas. This is a very good thing. To be back on familiar ground.

But this morning as I kissed Zachary goodbye in front of his school and watched him running excitedly up the stairs with friends, I realized that this next move will be extremely difficult for him. Zachary is amazing in his ability to make friends and it always shocks (and pleases) me to see how much other children seem to genuinely like him. He's like Norm in those old Cheers sitcoms. When he walks into a room, all of the children call out his name like he's a dear, old friend. I treasure that for him. Mike and I find it humorous that we've produced such a social butterfly. In many ways, Zachary is much more like my brother than he is like Mike or me.

Anyway, I do not look forward to the goodbyes when we leave. Especially Zach's goodbyes. But I cannot help but be hopeful and excited about the prospects of being back home. Washington is lovely. It is majestic, breathtaking, and extremely wet. But it isn't home. I don't know if it ever could be.

So, today I feel fidgety. I feel in limbo. I feel restless and powerless to do anything about it. Bummer.

Fidgety.

Fanciful -- an adjective meaning led by imagination

Fanciful.

My boys are in the middle of a full fledged battle between darkness and light in the middle of my living room. The sounds of battle include the sizzling strike of lightsaber on lightsaber and the grunts and groans of those fighting and dying. And then I hear, "Alec, you are the evil emperor! You have to try to get me!" And Alec replies, "No! I'm Darf (Darth) Bador (Vador) and you have to get me!!" And now Zachary hums the soundtrack of Star Wars while zipping through the living room, jumping off of the ottoman, rolling along the floor. His ability with melody is uncanny. He knows every nuance of every song from every episode of the Star Wars movies.

And now they are laughing uncontrollably, rolling around together on the floor. Breathless with laughter because, apparently, General Grievous fell off of a rock or something along those lines.

Fanciful.

This morning I found Superman in my underwear drawer. "Alec!" I yelled. "Why is Superman in my underwear drawer?" He raised both arms and wiggled his fingers while raising his eyebrows and then whispered dramatically, "It's a secret entrance!" And then he ran giggling from my room.

Fanciful!

Felicity: noun meaning happiness or contentment

Felicity.

It is 11:43 a.m. in western Washington and I am feeling quite felicitous. I have chicken crockpotting itself for supper. I also have a pot of beans simmering on the stove. I have played puzzles and read books and played blocks with a very funny three year old son who is fortunate enough to have complete and utter faith in his own abilities. "I'm a good picker-upper. I'm a good puzzler. Look Mommy! I'm a strong boy. I can pick up Molly! (Insert our 10 pound cat's inconvenienced hiss.) Mommy! I'm a good pee pee-er, aren't I?" Yes, indeed. It is difficult to not feel content on a day such as this.

I have cleaned out my fridge and disposed of numerous containers of questionable material. I have organized my cupboards in preparation of the groceries that my loving husband offered to pick up on his way home this afternoon. I have a load of wash in the washer and another tumbling happily in the dryer. And right now, at this very moment, the only thing that I need to do is go and read to Alec.

Felicity!

I consider myself a Christian. Christianty. It is who I am and it dictates what I do. I read it. I teach it. I immerse myself in it. And on occassion, I actually do what Christ calls me to do. Being Christlike, that is.

I consider myself a partner in a strong marriage. A wife. It is who I am and what I do. It guides my thoughts and my actions, it dictates the steps that I take on a daily basis.

I consider myself a mother. A mommy. From sun-up to... sun-up, day after day, night after night, I am the foremost authority on my children, ages seven and three. They belong to me and I belong to them in ways that defy explanation.

I consider myself a writer. Writing. It is who I am and what I do. I read it. I teach it. I evaluate it. And on occassion, I actually do it. Write, that is.

I am also a daughter, a sister, an educator, a friend. I love food, I love literature, I love sappy movies, I love my memories of college, I love when I make people laugh. And I love to write. This is where I will write about the things that are important to me: faith, family, food, fun. See, not all "F" words are bad.