Saturday, February 13, 2010

My birdie Sam has sinusitis!  This means I have the joy of giving him nasal drops each day for the next week.  You should have heard him protest having his left nasal passage cleaned out with copious amounts of saline and the careful but tedious application of a syringe to remove the blockage.  Funny thing is, I was worried about the right side of his nose/beak/birdie face.  Once he was done being manhandled, he sat indignantly upon my shoulder, fuming at the world.  When his girlfriend got a chance to step away from the front desk and visit him, he refused to even look at her, scolding her at the top of his lungs when she dared offer her finger in an invitation for a visit up front for a while.

I did envy, once again, my vets ability to handle the birds with such ease.  She can twist and turn them any which way she wants, pulling on that, pressing here, peering there, and they are completely submissive.  Nary a squawk even when she was denuding their flight feathers and clipping their nails.

Needless to say, Sam did not quite give me the same respect when I gave him his first application of nasal medication this evening.

Ire seemed to be in the air, for this evening Bettina's youngest cherub was slightly less than angelic!

Although he spent much time curled in my lap and cheerfully walked with me about the neighborhood a second time when E had to go to the bathroom, J felt utterly betrayed when his mother elected me for bedtime duty.  Apparently, I can feed him, play with him, cuddle with him, put him in the car, pull him out of the car, push him about the store, prepare his meals, and even change his diaper, but I am not an acceptable evening companion.

He HOWLED for a very long time, with three instances of my having to put him back into bed and discipline him for leaving, since I was the one who started the process.

Once he finally gave up the battle, Bettina suggest we venture downstairs to see if there was a picture worthy moment awaiting us.  I shall let you be the one to decide.

To express his displeasure, he stripped off his pajamas and the bedding, kicked off the railing, flung all his toys to the floor, and fell asleep with only the bare comfort of his blankie stuffed into his mouth.  After taking a dozen shots between the two of us happy snappers, I was able to re-clothe him, reposition him, and recover him without awaking the little hellion.

Who's the baby charmer?

I cannot decide what my high is today.  [Bettina asks her children at the dinner table to share their high and low for the day.]  I could say that it was having my best friend and her cherubs with me while my babies were being attended to by their most wonderful vet.  I could say that it was learning that Bettina scrubbed on my tub for me.  I could say that it was having her run me three different places after the vet, getting 3 of my 4 errands completed (we have yet to figure out how to repair the leaking faucet in my bathroom).  I could say that it was how well-behaved her cherubs were whilst we were trotting about Wal-Mart.  I could say that it was learning I had good news rather than bad with respect to my income taxes (I waited to do the calculations until I had moral support because I was afeared that the opposite would be true and Bettina lovely allowed me to input all my data awhile ago--it seems having to pay a huge state tax bill last Spring because the accountant at work entered my deduction wrong made for a huge refund this year).  I could say that it was learning that hours and hours of Lutheranism talk did not did not put off my dear friend, nor did my bungling answers drive her to despair (though the phrase the proper distinction of Law and Gospel filled her mind all night long as she tried to work in a bit of sleep).

Is is a true friend who makes you diabetic cookies or one who lets you pig out on regular ones that would make you sick? 

I would most definitely have not opted for the diabetic choice...but...they were not altogether horrible.  She also cut the dairy content with half-fake butter.  Perhaps had she made them ALL for me, instead of considering her youngest cherub whose body takes offense at dairy products, the difference might have been less noticeable.  However, while they are not quite her world-famous-double-peanut-butter cookies, I shall have no problem consuming as many as are left after being forced to share them with Bettina and her cherubs.

I should get brownie points for only consuming two this evening!

Bettina's favorite drink is what I call Bettina Beer, or for the general population, Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade.  Since the refrigerator is quite full with the groceries she brought, we decided the huge snowbanks on my deck would serve as an outdoor cooler.  Is there something sacrilegious about having alcohol surrounded by Scripture references written in the snow?

El has been praying through the Psalter, in part because I speak so passionately about what a gift doing so is, how magnificent these prayers are, and what I find within those words.  Two thirds of the way through the process, she is still not all that convinced the Psalter is for anyone but the mature reader, perhaps even the scholar.

I keep telling her that it matters not if she understands what she is praying because the Holy Spirit does...and God's Word will never return void.

However, when she mentioned Psalm 109 as yet another example of the difficulty of the Psalter, I dared to respond with teaching rather than simple encouragement.  [Yes, you can roll your eyes at the prospect of me teaching anyone about Scripture.]

I first recorded the Psalm so that it could fill her ears rather that just rest upon her tongue, fall upon her lips.  Then, I gave her some Myrtle commentary:  a wee bit of my own thoughts and the whole of what I found in Luther's Works, the American Edition, that I purchased for myself a wee bit ago.  [I read her what I found in volume 11 with a little bit of explanation.]

I found it slightly wonderful that the psalm is about the disparaging of reputation, since El has just recently finished listening to my audio recordings and commentary on the first part of the Large Catechism, and I...well...I have struggled of late with something akin to this.  Thou shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

Luther's teaching was illuminating for me, and I rather enjoyed my feeble attempt to make this passage of scripture a bit more clear to El. know what I found most comforting?  Luther's commentary on verse 23:  This verse is too obscure for me to understand.  Luther wrote this!  While he did go on to offer a couple of possible interpretations, it was good to know that I am not the only one truly perplexed at times.


NOTE:  Bettina's husband is of the decided opinion that it is not I who should be the one to use a chainsaw on the downed tree.  "She has trouble mowing!  She certainly cannot be using a chainsaw!"  You know my intrepid friend has entertained the notion that perhaps she could hack away at my tree.  What is proper etiquette on downed trees that have fallen primarily into your neighbors yard?  How long do I have before not dealing with this problem becomes a neighborly offense...if the tree takes up a mere corner of a wide empty space?  Or does size not matter????

As I write this, Bettina is catching up on my blog and noted that I AM THE MOST HORRIBLE BEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD!  While I did send her Grace Upon Grace for her naming day and serenaded her several times, I forgot to sing to her here!

Happy Birthday to you (fifteen days late)!
Happy Birthday to you (fifteen days lay)!
Happy Birthday dear Bettina (fifteen days late)!
Happy Birthday to you (fifteen days late)!

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