This is a lot of fun! My nephew, Gabriel Josiah, was born July 20, a little more than a week ago. He's a beautiful baby! Now we are waiting for my little brother or sister to make his/her arrival in early August. It will be interesting watching Evan, Gabriel, and their younger aunt/uncle growing up side by side.

Some little girls have imaginary friends. Lydia, on the other hand, has imaginary family. One would think she would have plenty of family, being one of ten, already the Aunt of our fifteen month old nephew Evan (Geoff and Abi's little guy), another nephew, (Ben and Ashley's baby) on the way, and Mom due with our eleventh sibling a little less than a month later than Ashley. But she has several imaginary family members. "Mary" was the first imaginary sister, and is pronounced more like "Mowy". "Mowy" had to go pick up her grandfather at the beach, because he was eaten and spat out by a shark. The reason Mowy's grandfather is not her grandfather is because "he's fifty years old" as she informed us in shocked tones; apparently that's to old to be her grandfather. Mowy's husband's name is Sarah Jane. Another sister's name is Caleb, and Caleb is mad that she got a boy's name.
Kendra pointed out something interesting about it the other day. It's not so very strange that she should have an imaginary family, for she hears about all these different people that Dad and Micah and Kendra work with that have nothing to do with her. Therefore, she makes up her own people, and meshes it with the stories and people she hears about from her older family members. As an example, this is a conversation she had with Micah recently.
Lydia: "Tell everybody at work I love them."
Micah: "Okay. Do you even know anyone from my work?"
Lydia: "Um... ya.
Micah: "Who do you know?"
Lydia: "Um... Dan."
Micah: "There's not a Dan where I work."
Levi, trying to help Lydia, told her to say Jonathan.
Lydia: "Jonathan."
Micah: "You don't know Jonathan."
Lydia: "Yes! My sister is married to him."
Micah: "Jonathan isn't married."
Lydia: "Yes. My sister married him. You can ask him."
Micah: "Okay, I'll ask him."
Pause...
Lydia: "If he says no, then maybe I'm wrong."
She's quite a funny three year old.

This is a list of quotes from a few members of the Cauble household over the past while.

Breanna: "I think that when I grow up, I'm going to name my kids after salad dressings; I mean, "Catalina" is a great name!"

Toby: "In a couple weeks I'll be nine. The world shall be open to me! It shall reveal to me its pleasures!"

Breanna, on learning how to make potholders: "Will this be called, 'Hannah helped me make it,' or, 'I made it?'"

Lydia: "I need a book wif letters, cause I can wead it pofectly."

Breanna, on seeing a picture of Princess Diana: "She's a princess? She doesn't have a poofy dress or a crown!"

Breanna recently learned to read, and on picking up Kendra's French bible and trying to read it: "Your's doesn't work!"

Toby to Mom: "Am I debt free?"

Breanna, on why she's scared of thunder: "It makes the earth tremble."

Lydia, on having milk gravy and buscuits: "Gravy dy fafefulness. That's a gravy song."

Lydia was explaining why she couldn't do several of the things Mom suggested she could do to play, saying, "I tried."
Mom: "So you need a nap?"
Lydia: "No, I just tired of doing things you ask me to."

Breanna went to Mom and Dad's room early in the morning. Mom asked her why she came down, and she said: "I'm alone up there. Hannah's up there and Lydia's up there but they're asleep so they're not really there."

Breanna: "Is that movie, "Megafloods" true?"
Mom: We don't really know. Some might be, but some isn't."
Breanna: "What about the Exodus movie?"
Mom: "It's the same way. Some's true, some's not."
Breanna: "What about the housecleaning one?"

Mom was asking Levi and Toby what the definition of an emergency was. Lydia answered for them, "An emergency is when your house is almost completely burned up, or there're dead people around."

Lydia: "I am not a tattle! I gon tell Mom!"

The wind howled ominously, as it pushed large frothing waves up the side of the small tossing ship. Passengers waited uneasily, as they huddled in their cabins, ready to fill the lifeboats if needed. Quietly aware that these could be his last moments on earth, the young journalist on board sat reflecting on his short, but full life. After finding the sailors scurrying around on deck, he had sought solitude in his cabin, to bask in the despair of these seemingly endless last moments. He sat leaned back in his chair gazing at nothing for several moments. He had received his share in life- the sorrows and fears of the world, the happiness and joys dealt out for each individual person. He had known many writers to refer to death as a bittersweet thing, and he felt he must agree with them wholeheartedly. He had always thought he would die at a young age, at his peak with great potential. Yet he had never fantasized a death for himself so tragic as this. Straightening up, he drew a piece of paper from where he kept a pile on his bunk. He slowly set it on his desk, his movements weak, and deliberate. He retrieved his pen and ink, then sat bent over his table, intent on recording his last melancholy moments. His mind began to wander over his past, as he thought of his mother, sister, and two younger brothers. They would be so heartbroken, when they heard that he had died on a sunken ship. With so many thoughts and emotions going through his head, he began to write, his hand pausing only when something was knocked over due to the rocking of the ship. As he wrote, the words began to form themselves into his last tidings to his mother.
"There are so many thoughts running through my head," he wrote, "that there is no possible way to keep up with them. My heart is throbbing with such emotion that I feel it will choke me. In this little cabin sits a man, calm in the face of certain doom. I have no regrets. I hope you shall be proud of me mother, for I leave this world bravely, in strength. Do not weep for me. I have done my best in life, and hope that you have seen me as the affectionate son that I am; kind, ever obliging, and so forth." The tears glistened in his eyes. He continued writing, "At my memorial service please put as my epitaph, 'Here lies a young man who was pleasing to all, and shall be well missed by many.' Please tell those who attend the service that it is best this way. Though I know they will be filled with remorse at my death, tell them that though they have reason to be sorrowful, I wish them to continue on in their lives as before, but to never forget their friend and comrade, David Lawson." The tears slipped down his cheeks, unchecked, and a sob escaped his throat.
Suddenly his cabin door swung open. He looked up, absently wiping his eyes.
In the doorway stood the ship's Captain, eyeing him worriedly.
"Aye, " exclaimed the Captain, "somethin' wrong matey?"
The journalist opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, for he had forgotten what exactly was causing him to weep, besides the fact that he was to be wept for.
"Well," he croaked, "they'll be crying for me."
"Cryin' for yis? Why?"
"Because... they're going to miss me... and... they love me... and...." The Captain looked at him queerly. "Miss ye? Who?"
"My family... they will be heartbroken when they hear I've died on a sunken ship." he choked on the lump in his throat.
"A sunked ship-?" The Captain's eyes grew wide with realization, and he burst into guffawing laughter.
"We ain't drownin' sonny! Fact I was comin' to check the cabins afore the gangplank was let up. We're in t' 'arbor!"

The Captain stood on the deck of the ship as the last passengers trailed down the gangplank. He glanced over his shoulder and began chuckling to himself as he watched the sniffling Lawson reach into his pocket for a handkerchief, wipe his damp eyes, hiccup, and blow his nose with a honking sound for the eighth time since he had come up from the ship's hull three minutes before.
"He jus' goes 'n gets hisself all worked up 'n' emotional for a wee bi' o' hefty weather. Jus' a wee bi' o' hefty weather," he muttered, stroking his beard, "an' he's down in t' 'ull of t' ship cryin' 'is eyes out. Jus a wee bit o' hefty weather..." His voice trailed off, as he tipped his head up towards the bright sky and began to shake with uncontrollable laughter.

Sitting in the parlor with a book on his lap back at his mother's home, David Lawson stared out the window into his family's orchard. He had in truth, been brooding over the events of late, for he had been rather disappointed that he had not at least half drowned- the day's turn of events would not look half so well in an autobiography. He had so hoped to be able to say that he valiantly fought the waves until help came, or he drifted to some island like Robinson Crusoe, bravely enduring great lonesomeness and fear. It would have made such a touching story. But alas, he had left the ship in good health, the sound of the Captain's laughter ringing in his ears. Ah, twas the bitter end of tragedy not struck!
He shook his head sadly, and resumed reading.

thoughtbubble
I have found my new passion. I see my brothers Levi and Toby split wood all the time, but had never tried it myself. I did the other day though, and am now stuck in the art. It's quite fun! Slightly abnormal for a favorite pastime, but fun.

"Waiting to be Brilliant..."

I said it sounded like a band name. Kendra said it was an excercise in futility. I was trying to explain to her why I have to think about something forever before writing it, even if I'm not trying to smooth out anything in particular. If I write something too soon and it's not exactly how I wanted it, but I don't know what's wrong with it, it's difficult for me to write it again. She said, "So you're waiting to be brilliant," and I agreed, "yes, something like that." She warned me in sisterly fashion that it was hopeless and excersising futility- she had been waiting all her life and it still hadn't happened.
Oh, well. I guess I shall just have to continue waiting futilely so that when I write I feel like I've accomplished something because of the waiting that went into it.

And the Government shall be upon Their Shoulders...

Now, schools have started banning chasing games and tag during recess, because they lead to cuts, scrapes, bruises or worse when students run into each other...
There must be a better alternative. Mom suggests that children wear rubber vests so that they just bounce off of each other if they collide.
Yes, that would do nicely. They could be advertised as Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers (say that three times real fast). Maybe parents should all get metal collars for their children that zap them when they come into hard contact with other children or objects. Yes, a child zapper is the answer. It would be quite beneficial. There would be fewer collisions because of the new careful awareness of students to avoid these run ins and the shock that comes with it. Maybe a force field is the answer. Maybe the government should get more involved in protecting kids with that technology rather than limiting their game options during recess. That way it would just be impossible for kids to collide in the first place.
Or, we could stop acting like scrapes and occasional bruises are life altering and just let kids play tag.