Profits Aren't Everything...

I was browsing my library's "New Book" shelves, looking for an interesting business book to read, when I came across Profits Aren't Everything, They're the Only Thing by George Cloutier with Samantha Marshall.

What a provocative title, right?

The subtitle is even more intriguing: No-Nonsense Rules from the Ultimate Contrarian and Small Business Guru.

I wondered exactly how contrarian George Cloutier really is - so I picked up the book.

I almost put it down again when I glanced at the fly-leaf. It gives some of his rules:

The best family business has one member.
Weekends are for working, not playing golf or coaching.
Never pay your vendors on time.
Wear your control freak badge with pride.
Quit denial: if your business is failing during a recession, it's your fault.

Which of these rules rubs you the wrong way? None of them? Well, there are fifteen rules in this short book, so I'm sure one of them will make you mad.

Even so, I would encourage you to read this book - especially if you are a business owner. You will not agree with everything Cloutier says, but you may end up agreeing with more of his rules than you anticipate after you reading through his reasoning.

And even if you don't, he might make you mad enough to prove him wrong - which would only help your business. That would be worth the read.

Chicago

Today, we had planned to go to Great America. We woke up to thunderstorms and it rained all morning.

The children asked to go to the library, so we loaded up our books & dashed through the rain to the library. I thought, while I was there, I'd quick find a book with a poem about rain in it for poetry wednesday.

Ya, right.

I glanced through the children's poetry section. I looked through the adult poetry section. I should have googled it or something. I came home with The Oxford Book of American Verse (copyright 1950), because it was thick, and I figured I could find something about rain.

Well, I did! Something incomprehensible, written by Mr. Edward Taylor, who lived 1645-1729.

So, on went the hunt. Now it's quite sunny and the children are dressed for the beach. A poem about rain didn't seem to fit.

Then I found this one from Carl Sandburg. I have never lived in the city itself, but I appreciate it from afar (ie, the suburbs).

(Side note: I visited my sister's office downtown a few years ago and her colleague asked me if I was in from out-of-town. I said, "Well, I guess I am if you consider the suburbs 'out-of-town'." She laughed and answered, "Yes, actually, I do!"

this is for my sister - who loves the city and the UP with equal fervor)

Chicago
Carl Sandburg

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

They tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and course and strong and cunning.

Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a told bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse,
and under his ribs is the heart of the people,

Laughing!

Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Mosquito

This morning I sent three of my children off to day camp. (whew!)

My oldest was waiting for his friend to come pick him up for a trip to Great America (lucky kid!), so I decided to wait outside with him and get at least a little weeding done. It was on my list, and I wasn't quite ready to start writing (which is really the number one priority while the house is quiet).

All that to say - I hate mosquitoes. They are everywhere. As soon as my son was gone, I dashed inside, ready to do anything else that would not involve fighting mosquitoes.

Which makes my pick for poetry wednesday just a tad ironic. I guess I feel a need to seek out another perspective on the dreadfully annoying insect that I swear is a result of the Fall (Genesis 3) - God did not create mosquitoes. They must have had some other purpose in the Garden of Eden, although I cannot think of what would have been.

So here it is: another perspective on that dreaded insect.

mosquito
valerie worth

There is more
To a mosquito
Than her sting
Or the way she sings
In the ear:

There are her wings
As clear
As windows,
There are the sleek
Velvets on her back;

She bends six
Slender knees,
And her eye, that
Sees the swatter,
Glitters.

On the Attack

I feel I have to preface this poem with a disclaimer.

I am a basketball fan, but I have not followed women's professional basketball (WNBA).

However, when I was looking for basketball poems, I ran across this book about professional women basketball players and several of the poems in it are just fantastic.

So, since the WNBA season is going on right now, and since I'm waiting for the children to completely finish their chores so we can go to the beach (and I think technically they are now waiting for me), I will share with you this poem about Lisa Leslie, a WNBA player for the LA Sparks.

On The Attack: Lisa Leslie

By Charles R. Smith, Jr.

Graceful gazelle

gallops and glides

fast past defenders

with effortless strides.

Sly and swift

and standing tall,

eyes on alert,

nose sniffing for ball.

Positioned in paint

ready to score,

on misses and bricks

bouncing from boards.

Two points scored

on rebound and putback,

using animal instincts

while attacking the rack.

Events Too Many to Mention....

Life has been going full-speed ahead recently! Noteworthy events include:

You might think by this pile of hair I shaved a dog.
Nope.

Just gave the Leichty boys haircuts on Saturday.

Here they are after their cuts.
(scroll down a few posts to see the 'before' shot)

On Sunday (as in yesterday), we met my family in the city for an afternoon together to celebrate Nana's (my mom's) birthday.

Since this is a public blog, I won't reveal her age.
(I bet you'll never guess!)

Doesn't she look great?

We were supposed to go to the Lincoln Park Zoo.
Then it rained. No, it poured!
Luckily, I have a well-connected sister (and brother, lest he nail me for not crediting him too) who found us a beautiful brownstone to shelter in and celebrate Nana's birthday.

Here she is with every last one of her grandkids - all eight.

And lest you think they are actually as angelic as they look,
I had to promise the following picture as a reward for looking so angelic in the first.

Nana, of course, takes it all in stride.
Doesn't she look serene?

(Quick story, because it's so classic and so I don't forget it: Ben (in the blue shirt) was playing hard with Lydia (in the pink headband & pink shirt) at the park. He kept calling her "Olivia! Olivia!" and his mom overheard.
"Ben," Molly admonished, "your cousin's name is Lydia, not Olivia. You need to get it right!" Lydia overheard this conversation and stepped in.
"Oh, it doesn't matter. I don't care what he calls me as long as it starts with an 'L'. "
Oh. my. word. We laughed our tails off!
In case you're wondering, they are both the 3rd-born. Oh so much in common...)


Now, the biggest news of the weekend, the week, the month (at least so far!) is....

Isaac learned to ride his bike today!

Isaac tells me he walked his bike around a little, sitting on the seat. Then, the minute he decided to put his feet on the pedals, "I was awesome Mom!"

This boy has no problem with humility... hm.

Here he is with his coaches - and good ones they were.

It is quite an accomplishment for him - he was quite fearful of learning to ride.

And now - just look at him!

Too Big to Fail

I quite surprised myself two weeks ago when I picked up Too Big to Fail by Andrew Ross Sorkin. It's a huge, huge book - 544 pages (including Acknowledgements) and about 50 pages of footnotes and bibliography after that.

More surprising to me was that I thought I might be interested in the topic - the front of the book states "The inside story of how Wall Street and Washington fought to save the financial system - and themselves."

A dry topic for someone who admits no financial acumen, nor interest in Wall Street.

I remember shrugging, thinking, "well, I'll read the first chapter & if it's boring, I'll return it."

Now, it's two weeks later, and I've not only read the first chapter, but I've read the entire 544 pages (I have to remember to write that down for the summer reading program!)

If you haven't guessed already, let me tell you how this book absolutely engaged my attention. This is not a dry book, discussing derivatives, securities, credit loans, etc. and how they brought down Wall Street.

All of the above are mentioned - you cannot write a book about Wall Street without mentioning those mysterious words. But Sorkin does a masterful job of making the reader understand, not the intricacies of these words, but the implications of these words. And the implications are what caused havoc in our economic system.

Sorkin focuses on the people involved in the dramatic events of 2008 - starting when JP Morgan bought Bear Stearns. I remember when Lehman Brothers failed - but I wasn't paying attention to events on Wall Street at the time. It doesn't affect me much - I felt (perhaps still feel) quite distanced from the events in New York & Washington... and can appreciate even more fully why Warren Buffet maintains his office in Omaha instead of New York.

I'll admit, I still don't understand why the CEOs of Lehman, Morgan Stanley & Goldman Sachs despise the short sellers - and why short selling stock is so detrimental to a firm - but I do feel I have a better understanding of the dramatic events of the fall of 2008 and a better understanding of who are some of the big 'players' on Wall Street.

And, I spent time enjoying a well-written book.

The End of Everything

We are wrapping up our school year in the Leichty house. It's not technically the end of everything, but it is the end of everything 6th, 4th, 2nd & 1st grade.

I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that my oldest child no longer qualifies for the children's programs at the library. Now he must register for the summer reading program at the Adult Reference Desk. And if there's a library program he wants to participate in, he qualifies for the Teen programs.

YIKES! When did this happen??

I just finished reading Stoneheart, a book he's going to read for the Middle School book club. He was reluctant to sign up for it, because he wasn't sure he wanted to go to a book club without me. And he wanted me to read it first to make sure it was OK for him to read.

(BTW: it is, I enjoyed it, and I'll write a review of it later on my kidsbooksthatrock.com blog)

sigh

I guess I am still important in his life.

The last book we enjoyed together for school was The Hobbit. I'll admit - I was chicken to read the whole thing out loud, so we requested the audio book via inter-library loan. We finished it this morning - it was wonderful. Rob Inglis read it and did a masterful job. I'm tempted to buy a copy for our family because I know we will enjoy it again and again.

At the end of The Hobbit, as Bilbo approaches his home after his huge adventure, he makes up this poem:

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

Life has a way of changing us - I hope mostly for the better. This homeschooling journey we've embarked on has certainly changed me - and again I add - hopefully for the better.

That said, I am looking forward to a great summer break - I think as heartily as Bilbo was looking forward to his own hobbit-hole.

And I am also looking forward to our next adventure - as we start 7th, 5th, 3rd & 2nd come August. But let's not get ahead of ourselves!

forever brothers

I realized this week that I have several recent pictures of the girls together, but none of the boys together. And I also realized I have been neglecting my "Front Door Friday" pictures for the past three weeks. Having children becoming sick does something to your schedule. You forget things.

The good news is that everyone is healthy - finally! And so we have all been enjoying the beach, counting down the days left of school (only three!), and looking forward to "a very, very busy June and July," according to Nathaniel.

For the record - he is right. We have plans about every other week - Camp Agape for the kids (and some alone time for me - Anna said to me last week, "Mom, won't it be so strange to be here by yourself when we go to Camp Agape? I mean, you are with us all the time. You won't know what to do!" "Oh, honey, you're right, it'll be weird without you. I'm not sure what I'll do with all of you gone," I answered, trying not to grin from ear to ear. I love my kids, but I am looking forward to a short, sweet break that week!)...

Where was I? Oh yes, a week in da UP, eh? (upper Michigan for those in the dark), then a couple weeks at home to prepare for

drum roll, please.....

an Alaskan cruise! Glen and I are going by ourselves - if you can call traveling with Glen's co-workers alone - and leaving the kids in the very capable hands of my parents and Camp Agape.

Now, I have to stop because my six-year-old is reading what I'm writing as I type it. He can read much better than he likes to admit.

And he loves his older brother very much - more than he likes to admit. Can't you see the love?

Happy weekend!

I am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced

Who could not pick up a small book with such a provocative title? I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced is written by Nujood Ali, with Delphine Minoui. I could not pass it up when I saw it on the library shelf, and I'm glad I didn't.

Minoui helps Nujood tell the story of her childhood, starting with some strange happenings in her remote village in Yemen which resulted in moving to the city with her family. There are many things in her childhood Nujood does not understand - including why she was married off to a man from her home village when she was only nine. She fights it with all her being, and eventually convinces her husband to take her back to the city to visit her family. There, she finds the courage to escape, go to the courthouse, speak to a judge, and ask for a divorce.

Chaos ensues, but all Nujood wants is to go home to her mother and her sisters and live out her childhood. She wants to go to school and learn to read.

Through the course of the divorce trial, we learn more about what happened to force her family to flee the country for the city, and we learn other tragic secrets of her family.

I Am Nujood is compassionately written, helping us understand the forces at work in Yemen culture.

Although Nujood has lived a lifetime in her short life, her story is not done. I look forward to hearing how she fares in her attempt to regain her childhood in the midst of the world-wide media attention she's already received, and if she's able to reach her goal of becoming a lawyer.

The Red Hen

I harbor, deep in the back of my mind, a secret desire to raise chickens. I continually talk myself out of it - I hear they're messy, loud, a lot of work. Plus, we have spotted coyotes in our yard, not to mention the raccoons.

But I really, really love farm-fresh eggs and I think selling eggs would be a good little business for my kids.

Glen would never agree, so my now not-so-secret desire to raise chickens will stay a desire.

Instead, I will share this fun little poem I found in Eric Carle's Animals, Animals:

The Red Hen

She turned her head to this side;
She turned her head to that.
Looking round for tidbits,
Juicy ones and fat.

Scritchy-scratch went Red Hen's feet:
Nib-nob went her bill.
She ate of juicy tidbits,
Until she had her fill.

And then she flew into a nest
And laid an egg, and then.
With a cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut,
Flew off to eat again.

~James S. Tippett

Enjoy more poetry here: Poetry Wednesday

In the Garden

picture courtesy of Anna, from Chicago Botanical Gardens, 2009

I went to a business women's luncheon today. It was at a couple of storefronts in downtown Wauconda (and yes, we do have a few storefronts on Main Street).

As I was walking out of one of the stores, I spotted a framed page from a hymnal and stopped to see what song was framed.

I showed it to my mom - it was one of Grandma Sabourin's favorites (my dad's mom). I remember she had it sung at her and Grandpa's 40th anniversary celebration. (We weren't sure it was quite appropriate, but it was her favorite!)

We sang it at her funeral.

I thought of her today, when I saw the song, so thought I'd share it with you.

In the Garden
I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice I hear,
falling on my ear;
The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own,
And the joy we share
as we tarry there,
None other
has ever
known.

He speaks and the sound of his voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody
that He gave to me,
Within my heart is ringing.

And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own,
And the joy we share
as we tarry there,
None other
has ever
known.

Poetry Wednesday

I Remembered My Camera!

Glen's parents came north to our house to help us around the yard on Saturday, and to celebrate Mother's Day on Sunday. I cannot believe that I remembered my camera!

Above, Grandma poses with the children in front of our freshly mown lawn.
After church Sunday, Glen treated all of us to my favorite restaurant - Girodano's Pizza. Yum!

FYI: this is stuffed pizza, not deep dish.
That, my friends, is a very important difference.

(So I don't have an ultra-fancy camera. When I was uploading this picture, I realized that Anna was slightly out of focus, but the Cubs' game is in perfect focus. This is for you, Omar.)

My very shaggy 12-year-old. He has visions of shoulder-length hair.
Glen has visions of clippers.

Igor Gustafski
(a long nickname for a little kid)

Poor Lydia Lynn.
She wasn't feeling well and church plus lunch out after was too much for her.

An infrequent indulgence. I love holidays!

And the piece de resistance - a new doorknob on the garage door!
It only happened because my mother-in-law insisted.
As it happened, changing it out involved a hammer, chisel,
a huge hole in the door, a trip to the hardware store for wood glue,
gluing the broken door piece back, and quite a bit of loud discussion.
I'm glad I was just watching.

I'm still getting used to it.
Thanks Juli! Best Mother's Day gift ever!

A week ago, most of my family participated in a talent show at our church. A couple of the teenagers organized the event, for which I am grateful. It gave my pianists a chance to practice performing, my dancers a chance to dance with their good friend, and my husband a chance to blend his voice with a men's quartet. (And, of course I have video, but no pictures! argh!)

I love that more adults participated this year. Not only the men's quartet, but a juggler and a poet. I made a new friend that night, a teacher by day and a writer/poet all other times.

Audrey Hessler shared a poem that night I enjoyed, so I asked her if I could publish it on my blog. She graciously agreed, and e-mailed me a copy. Thanks Audrey!

HEAVEN’S WAITING ROOM

by Audrey Marie Hessler

Is there a waiting room for heaven?

I have heard people say.

I have wondered the same question since,

I will live there someday.

Will I enter heaven’s gate and be

pointed toward a chair?

Will they point me over there saying,

“Please, take a seat somewhere.”

Will I enter one room and then be

whisked off to another?

Will I meet up with my grandparents?

Siblings? Father? Mother?

Will I catch up with my old friends who

went ahead of me, too?

Will we be waiting together in

a room of powder blue?

Will there be lots of magazines and

background music playing

While I’m with all these people and we’re

waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting?

Is there a waiting room for heaven?

I have heard people say.

I have wondered the same question since,

I will live there someday.

So one day I decided that I

would make it my clear task

To simply say a prayer to God, and

then plainly I would ask.

Well, I thought I felt the room shake with

loud laughter and great mirth.

Then I heard, “Yes, there’s a waiting room

for heaven—it’s called earth!”

poetry wednesday

Picture in My Mind

I have been trying to capture an elusive picture recently - a picture of my 6-year-old heartily laughing at a joke or antic. I can picture him, sitting on our couch, his short legs stretched out before him, his face still, hands folded in his lap, listening intently to a story I'm reading.

Then comes the funny part, and his blue eyes light up with pleasure, a hearty laugh rolling out of his wide open mouth, his head thrown back and shoulders shaking.

It is, my friends, a beautiful picture. A delightful picture. One that makes me want to laugh, cry and hug him all at the same time.

The camera is never nearby when the laugh comes - on one hand I think that's good. How can film capture the essence of his innocent, 6-year-old mirth? On the other hand, I wonder, "Will I remember? Will I be able to picture him this way when he is older?"

I always thought I'd never forget what my children were like when they were tiny. But life is full of so many memories, I cannot contain them all. I look at my albums and think, 'Who are these little people? Who is this cute little toddler, dressed in a sundress, with 20 necklaces around her neck, white dress gloves on her hands and a purse on her elbow - all with the paci in her mouth?'

I am thankful for my pictures, real & imaginary. So, today, I have a picture in my mind of 6-year-old Isaac, laughing with pleasure as he read to me this section from Dr. Suess's classic One fish two fish red fish blue fish:

Who is this pet?
Say!
He is wet.

You never yet
met a pet,
I bet,
as wet as they let
this wet pet get.

(how could you not laugh?)

poetry wednesday

Library

Here are some of the books in my family's library. But if I had a car, I would have gone to our wonderful library and taken a picture for you.

What? You've never been to the Wauconda Area Public Library? What a shame. I do think, and I am not kidding, it's the best library in the area. Even the state. Perhaps even the whole of the USA.

I am not exaggerating.

I love our library. When we lived in Florida, I would walk into the library there, and long for the Wauconda Area Public Library. The DVD collection is awesome, the book collection even better. Plus staff who have been there so long I remember them from my childhood - and they remember me too. Interlibrary loans come so quickly, the childrens' library not only houses books, but puppets you can check out, toys for the childrens' amusement, and of course computers.

What makes it even better now than when I was a child - the summer reading program is for all ages. Imagine that! I, as an adult, can participate in a summer reading program. That was my most favorite thing as a child. I do believe I literally cried the summer they told me I was too old for the summer reading program at the library.

In honor of my library, public and personal, I offer my poem for Poetry Wednesday (which, fittingly, comes from my personal library of school books: all the small poems and fourteen more by Valerie Worth)

library

No need even
To take out
A book: only
Go inside
And savor
The heady
Dry breath of
Ink and paper,
Or stand and
Listen to the
Silent twitter
Of a billion
Tiny busy
Black words.

Death by Meeting

Patrick Lencioni writes for business owners, and he's a good writer. I read his book The 3 Big Questions for the Frantic Family and wrote about it here. So when I came across his book Death by Meeting at the library recently, I knew that even if I couldn't use the ideas in his book, it would still be a good read.

And it is. Like Five Questions, Lencioni wrote it in story form, following a successful business owner who isn't quite as successful as he could be. The catalyst for change is a temporary employee, a friend of the family with an interesting education background. He uses his background to help the business rethink their meetings, meeting structure and meeting purpose, using film and television analogies.

Lencioni also includes an Executive Summary in the back of the book for those who want to skip the story and get down to the nitty-gritty.

If you are in a medium- to large-sized business, I would recommend reading this book. You might just avoid an early death brought on by too many meetings... or non-functioning meetings.

Raven's Gate

Once I find an author I enjoy, I try to read everything that person has written. It stands to reason that if I enjoyed one book by him, then I would enjoy the rest. I have found that logic to be pretty sound, but there are a few exceptions.

Anthony Horowitz is one of those exceptions. Horowitz is the author of the Alex Rider series I'v written about before - James Bond for junior high and high school students.

I was in the young adult section of our library, looking for the next book in the Alex Rider series, when I found Raven's Gate, book one of The Gatekeeper series. I picked it up, thinking I'd be proactive, reading it before my 11-year-old asked.

And I am so glad I did.

Horowitz is a great writer, and Raven's Gate is no exception. It's the subject I dislike.

Raven's Gate is about a teenage boy, Matt Freeman, who finds himself in a very sticky situation - a robbery where his friend kills a guard. He's offered a chance at a new program for first-time juvenile offenders - go to live with Mrs. Deverill in Lesser Malling instead of going to jail. He doesn't really care, so they send him to Lesser Malling.

Strange things start to happen, and Matt discovers he has some strange abilities.

Raven's Gate is a very creepy book - very creepy. There are references to human sacrifice, clairvoyance, ESP and worship of ancient beings, among other things.

Here's the thing - I believe in a spiritual world and spiritual beings. And I believe that messing with these beings is dangerous, as depicted in this book. I also believe that Jesus Christ defeated Satan and his followers at his Resurrection, and I believe followers of Jesus are able to defeat spiritual forces by His power, and not their own.

In Raven's Gate, Matt is able to escape and defeat his enemies with the help of other people, and his own special powers.

Horowitz himself, in the interview in the back of the book, describes the Alex Rider series and James Bond for teenagers. He then compares The Gatekeeper series with Steven King for teenagers.

I do not want my children tempted to start down that dark path, so these books will not be on our reading list.

Looking Out My Front Door

The results are in! I finally had a chance to calculate the winner of the Leichty Family March Madness Pool. Isaac, as I predicted, came out on top. The clear winner. I took this picture of him with his picks paper, and then he asked me what his prize was.

"Bragging rights," I told him.

"What's that?" he asked. "I'd rather go to Dairy Queen."

A boy after his Papa's heart. That's where we always went as kids to celebrate a victory, end of school or just because I was his 'favorite eldest daughter.'

So, the final results:
1. 6yo Isaac: 41 wins -22 losses
2. 8yo Lydia: 38-25
3. 10yo Anna: 37-26
4. ?yo Mom: 35-28
5. 42yo (on Sunday!) Dad: 35-28
6. 12yo Nathaniel: 23-40

Anna gets the prize for picking the most upsets. (For those who care, Anna was 16-6 in the first round - unbelievable! If she had only picked Duke out of the South, she would have beat her younger siblings handily.)

Nathaniel gets the prize for most loyal. He picked Florida to win it all. Again. Every. single. year. he picks Florida. The first year we each did picks, Florida actually won. He was elated. Now, no matter what, he picks Florida, and could care less if they lose in the first round. What loyalty! What devotion! What... well... craziness?

Glen and I are in a draw this year. He owes me some ice cream. Just because I love ice cream and I look for any excuse to get some. So since he didn't beat me, he owes me. :)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Looking out my front door, I'm reveling in the daffodils and tiny hyacinths (I think) blooming down my sidewalk. The daffodils are starting to show their age, so I tried to get some pictures before they fade away....



Happy, happy Spring!

Life

Life has been oh! so busy these days. I was in a fury of detail-arranging a week and a half ago, as I prepared to be gone a week from my family.

A week - a whole, long week! Me, myself & I, staying with my dear friend, Sarah, while I went to a conference on communicating effectively - public-speaking more precisely.

It was fantastic - I learned so much! It was a crazy, crazy schedule. I barely had time to think - let alone blog - while I was there.

So, here I am, almost back into routine at home, catching up on stuff I missed last week, and ready for Poetry Wednesday.

To submit to a life of idleness
Is no intent of mine.
I shall keep the home fires burning,
Though I live on borrowed time.
-Rube Rustic

Rube Rustic is the pen name for Rene Jay, a pig farmer in Kendall County, Illinois. His descendants have donated the family farm to the Kendall County Forest Preserve, and one of my clients is illustrating/writing/creating the panels for the welcome center at the farm. I was lucky enough to be hired to help copy edit and write the story of the Jay family.

Rene himself was quite the Renaissance man. He wrote poetry, farmed, played violin and rode Harleys. Plus, he was well-versed in botany - plants and birds especially - and the history of his family and his county. Interestingly enough, he died on his tractor in the middle of the field. He was in the middle of working, because by the time he was found, the engine was silent because the tractor had run out of gas.

I'm sorry I don't have a picture of Rene - but if you're ever in Illinois, especially Little Rock, Illinois, stop in at Jay Woods, and read more about him, his family & his farm.

I see a field trip in my family's future!

One More Year

One more year - until I am officially a mother of a teenager. Nathaniel celebrated his 12th birthday yesterday - where on earth has the time gone?

We celebrated by going to Old Country Buffet - Nathaniel was so excited. And, in typical 12-year-old style, he tried to not eat much before we went. Then he ate so quickly, he got a stomachache. Fortunately, the restaurant was pretty empty, so he was able to lay down in a booth nearby for a few minutes to let his stomach settle before going back for more.

Ah, boys.

And of course, this mother brought her camera, enjoyed her dinner and managed to get through the entire celebration without taking one, single solitary picture! Big. Ol'. Sigh.

The good news is that the daffodils are blooming! The first one bloomed this morning - just in time for a picture.

The bad news is that I'm leaving on Monday for a week. I'm afraid they'll all bloom without me! My friends have promised to take pictures - it won't be the same - but it's something.

Enjoy these days my friends. I cannot believe how quickly they fly by...

The End is Near

No, not the end of the world - but the end of college basketball. Until fall at least.

Since the Final Four are this weekend, and the Championship Game is on Monday night, I thought I would share this final basketball poem (for now - I have a few others in mind for another time).

I have to say, even if you do not follow college basketball, you have to admire those Butler Bulldogs. An amazing team from a small conference - a 5th seed, making into the Final Four! Perfect year too, because the Final Four will be played this year in Indianapolis - a basketball-crazy town that will gladly adopt the home team since neither Purdue or Indiana University are playing. Go Butler! I'd love it if they won the championship.

An update on our family pool - if West Virgina beats Duke on Saturday night, then Glen wins. If Duke beats West Virginia, then probably Isaac will win. If Duke wins the National Championship, he's golden. Both he and Lydia chose Duke to win it all.

I'll let you know next week - when the games are done. It makes me a little bit sad to write that - which is why this poem is appropriate.

After the Game

By Tony Johnston

The game is over.

But the gym still

thrums

with the basketball’s

THUMP –

THUMP –

THUMPY

hum.

poetry Wednesday

Longing for Sunny Faces

Last fall I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Glen and I had had big, ugly bushes removed from the front of our house, and we hadn't planted grass in the bare spot yet. I've always, always, always wanted tulips, hundreds of tulips in my front yard. However, we're in a major deer zone, so that was out of the question.

I was in Sam's Club (rare occasion indeed!) and spotted a bag of 100 daffodil bulbs for under $20. Perfect! I had done enough research to know that deer are not fond of daffodils, and if I can't have tulips, then daffodils are the second best.

So, I bought the bag. Planted 100 bulbs. 100. Oh, was I sore! I was praying that I had planted them deep enough, far enough apart and that all that work would not be for naught.

Out my front door this morning I'm seeing some green shoots! I'm so excited! Nathaniel said today, "Mom there are, like a hundred of these shoots. How many did you plant?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

I cannot wait until those flowers show their sunny, cheerful blooms!

I'll be sure to post a picture.

Hoops

March Madness lasts for such a short time. I cannot believe that we're already down to the 'Sweet 16' round - eliminating 48 of the 64 teams which originally started. (That stat is courtesy of my husband, Glen.)

And what a year this has been! Glen and I have already lost our National Champion in our brackets (Kansas) - what a game! Neither of us begrudge Kansas' loss to Northern Iowa. UNI is almost a home team for us. We met and married in Waterloo/Cedar Falls - Glen was on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ at UNI and I was working for KWWL-TV.

It's the upsets that make the tournament so fascinating - and picking the right ones this year has been hard. Anna's done the best - she picked Murray State over Vanderbuilt. I remember her asking me, "Does a 13 ever beat a 4? Does a 12 ever beat a 5?" I said, "Yes, that has happened, but it doesn't happen often." I think Anna wins our pool of picking the most upsets correctly.

But none of us ever thought that UNI would knock Kansas out of the tournament in the second round.

Just writing about the games makes me excited! My poem this week is a long one - but a great one about basketball. I found it in the library, a book unto itself. I think it captures the feel of the game wonderfully well.

Hoops

By Robert Burleigh

Hoops.

The game.

Feel it.

The rough roundness.

The ball

like a piece

of the thin long reach

of your body.

The way it answers whenever you call.

The never-stop back and forth flow,

like tides going in, going out.

The smooth,

skaterly glide

and sudden swerve.

The sideways slip

Through a moment of narrow space.

The cool.

The into

and under

and up.

The feathery fingertip roll

and soft slow drop.

Feel your throat on fire.

Feel the asphalt burning beneath your shoes.

The two-of-you rhythm.

The know-where-everyone-is without having to look.

The watching

and waiting

to poke

and pounce.

The fox on the lurk.

The hunger.

The leap from the pack.

The out-in-the-clear

like a stallion

with wind in your face.

The bent legs tense

as the missed shot swirls

and silently spins.

The hawk.

your arm shooting up

through a thicket of arms.

The lean

and brush

and burst free.

The skittery,

cat-footed dance

along the baseline.

The taste

for the rock in your hands

when it counts the most.

The weight of you

hanging from fine,

invisible threads.

The eyes.

The arc.

The no-sound

sound of the ball

as it sinks

through nothing but still,

pure air.

Yes.

Hoops.

The game.

Feel it.

poetry wednesday!
Picture courtesy of flickr.com:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/glassware/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

It's Friday Already? ( Week in Review)

And Friday's almost gone! Time goes so quickly...

This is the view from my front door this morning. My two youngest are always up for a picture.

Then I spotted my Mom's car coming in the driveway, which distracted Isaac. She was coming to pick them up for the morning so I could study. But Lydia looks so cute here, I had to post it.

Yesterday, we read about batteries, circuits and switches in our Sonlight science book. Isaac was completely inspired by the light hat and Justin dressed up as a miner in our Science DVD. He insisted on putting together his own light hat. I was busy with schooling the older two, so he and Lydia worked on it together, and got it working! He and Nathaniel went down to the crawl space to try it out and Nathaniel took this picture. Isaac is so pleased - he can't wait to show his cousin this weekend. I'm sure they'll be playing 'spy' or 'explore' with it all weekend.

Look at these lovely young ladies! Anna successfully completed Suzuki Book One for the piano and I learned from her friends who take violin that students are to host a recital upon the completion of each book. Sunday was her recital, and her good friend agreed to play with her on her violin. They played three songs together, and Anna played several on her own. I cannot believe how mature my Anna looks here! Her recital went well. And quickly - it took only eight minutes.

A Mad, Mad March

This month is a big month in this Leichty household. This week is a big week.

Why?

The NCAA Basketball Tournament begins tomorrow - a whole day and night of basketball games... and a whole Friday, and a whole Saturday, and a whole Sunday.

Normally, this would not make me happy. However, since we've been married, Glen & I have had a contest every March. He makes his picks for the tourney, and I make mine.

For the first 10 years, I won. Yes, me, who rarely watches college basketball, except in March. It drove Glen crazy because I made my picks like this:

"Mizzou is my alma mater, so I'll pick them. I've heard good things about Duke, so I'll pick them. My cousin is at Oregon, so I'll pick them to win."

Little to do with ranking, how they played in their respective conference tournaments, or what the commentators are saying.

Like I said, it drove Glen crazy.

The problem is, I started second-guessing myself. I think I'm still ahead overall in our contests, but have lost ground over the past few years.

Now we've included the kids in our contest - Glen calls it the Leichty family 'pool'. I wrote down Isaac & Lydia's picks yesterday (they both picked Clemson to beat Mizzou - what's that all about?!)

Anna made a point to tell me that she picked Mizzou. That's my girl!

Hoop Dream

By Rebecca Kai Dotlich

The sound of the ball

as it drums on the ground.

The fans in the stands

who are held spellbound.

The tick of the clock.

The feel of the floor.

One quick, sure step,

then shoot to score!

Poetry Wednesday
flickr photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/matthijs/

Is It Spring Yet?

It's hard to believe that in just one week all that snow has melted out of our front yard.

This morning, this was the view out of my front door - my younger two children riding their bikes in our driveway. They were so excited to be outside!

All four children spent most of the day outside - mostly on the swing set in the backyard. We took a walk in the neighborhood this morning - enjoying the sun while it peeked through the clouds.

This week's weather has been a tease - making us think that spring is here. I keep telling myself that the cold will come back. It could even snow a couple more times before the real spring is here.

My kids are ready for spring too - not just to play outside. The girls have changed the flannel sheets on their bed, pulled out their flip flops, and asked to get out their shorts! I'm trying to temper their enthusiasm so they're not devastated by a probable late-spring snowstorm.

But today - today we reveled in the relative warmth of the day.

First Robin

This morning, my oldest sent an e-mail to everyone on his e-mail list announcing that he had seen the first robin of the season.

He was so excited.

This afternoon, we went for a walk, and he spotted two more.

Spring is on its way! If I had had my camera I would have tried to capture the moment. However, I didn't. (When will I learn?!)

Today's poem is dedicated to my oldest, robin-spotting son, Nathaniel.

Spring Real Estate
by Eileen Spinelli

Here is a house, dear robin.
The floors and walls are strong.
It's safe from wind
and snug from rain
and yours for just a song.

(I just have to note here, that I am at the library. An unexpected trip to participate in a program my handy-dandy iPhone reminded me of one hour before it started. I found this poem in a poetry book on the shelf in the children's section. I tell you this because I never thought I would look for a poem at the library. I'm learning!)

Poetry Wednesday - there are some great selections this week. It's worth following the link, trust me.

monday

On Friday, I was frantically finishing Isaac's pizza, packing my clothes, cleaning the kitchen, making sure the children were packing their clothes so Glen and I could drop off the children and head out for the weekend.

Yep, by ourselves. With no children. For a whole weekend.

What a treat!

But in my frenzied state, I forgot to have Anna take a picture of Glen and I before I took them to my mom & dad's for the weekend. Thankfully, my camera has a timer.

Once we took the picture, I realized I had shut down my computer. So, I thought I would just work on it at the bed & breakfast where we were spending the weekend. After all, Glen never goes anywhere without his laptop (just in case the world ends at work).

Famous last words.

Well, Friday's gone. The weekend's over. We've been there and back again (I cannot stop with the Lord of the Rings references!), and had a wonderful weekend.

Just the two of us.

Hard Places

Last week I watched The Lord of the Rings trilogy - the extended version. It's my annual depth of winter tradition, enjoyed a little late this year.

Since I watched it again, I have been pondering what about these movies, books, these stories, resonate so loudly with so many people.

I think one reason is the selflessness of the characters - so many stepping out of their comfort zone, leaving the world they know, being tested 'by fire and water' (as Gandalf was). Frodo and Sam leaving the Shire, and for the good of the world, traveling step by weary step, to the Mountain of Doom. Aragorn, overcoming his fear of his heritage to stand against evil and eventually reclaim the throne of Gondor. Even Legolas and Gimli overcome their racial prejudice between Dwarfs and Elves, if I can call it that, and become best of friends.

I could go on and on about the different themes in the book - the reality, horror and power of evil, yet its allure too, which overcome Sauruman and Denethor, and threatens Pippin. The undeniable horror of war, and yet its necessity to fight undeniable evil.

My favorite part of the whole series is in The Return of the King, in the battle before Minas Tirith when the Nazgul is ready to pounce upon King Theoden. Merry the Hobbit is there, frozen in fear of the Nazgul, yet one young warrior stands his ground against the Nazgul and forbids it to come further.

The Witch King says,

'Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!'

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. 'But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn I am, Eomund's daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. ... I will smite you, if you touch him.'

I remember when I first read the book - I didn't know Dernhelm was Eowyn (although in the movie you do). What a thrill that scene was - when she smites the Witch King forever. What makes me marvel at it even more is that this was written in the 1960's, before the women's liberation movement. And by a man. I think those two facts make it an even more powerful, wonderful a moment (and defy those women who think men capable only of suppressing women).

It's the hard places, the weary steps of determination, the selflessness required of service to others, which make us better, stronger people. All the self-help books in the world cannot substitute for that. It's our wounds of battle - our emotional, spiritual, physical wounds - which make us beautiful. It's His wounds by which we are fully healed.

The Lord of the Rings beautifully illustrates the sorrow, and the beauty, of this life. And the anticipation of the rest and restoration we look forward to in the life to come.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Poetry Wednesday