medial // caesura

This happened in our little town this weekend.  The USLMRA (United States Lawn Mower Racing Association) held a race in Ellerbe, NC, to raise funds for the JRA Foundation in honor of a little girl named Taylor.  Racing 4 Taylor was great fun and my first exposure to this sport. Who knew that lawn mowers could go so fast?  Or that anyone participated in a race like this without a cash prize or sponsors?  I would say it was just good, clean fun, but the layer of dirt I had a hard time scrubbing off insists otherwise.  But it was exciting . . . and loud.  My eldest was mesmerized by the noise, the dust, the flags, the movement, and the fans.  Here he is after his first taste.  We went back for two more races after dropping his brothers off at home. As one enthusiast from Michigan chanted. . . "LAWN MOWERS RULE! LAWN MOWERS RULE! LAWN MOWERS RULE!" sweater vest            ...

"Peace and Chicken Grease, Sister!" the greeting/farewell my teenaged brother delivered, his grin and two fingers outstretched.  I'm so thankful God has given me a brother with such a magnanimous spirit and a whole lotta wisdom.  He can make me laugh when that's the last thing I feel like doing.  He reads people better in five minutes than I do in five months.  And he gives the best advice, partly because it's succinct but mostly because it is sheer wisdom laced with humor that brings peace to a troubled mind. Although he would probably deny this and laugh at me for saying so, he brings to mind Colossians 4:6, the theme verse for our recent Classical Conversations training, "Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person."   That salt, by the way, is the Truth, capital "T."  My brother was there for me yesterday when the sorrow akin to that described by  Hamlet's usurping ...

My son has mitochondrial disease.  Mitochondria is maternally inherited.  My other two children do not have mitochondrial disease which means that my oldest child's mitochondria deficiency/deletion was atypical, sporadic, a random occurrence.  The technology that is being considered by the FDA to prevent mitochondrial diseases in embryos would not apply to our situation, so why am I so worked up by this? Yesterday, the FDA concluded a two-day hearing on the science of 3-parent embryos.  The process would take the DNA from the egg of the mother and that of the father and insert it into the embryo of a donor egg with healthy mitochondria that has had its nuclear DNA removed. In an interview I heard with Dr. David Prentiss, who spoke out against the technique before the FDA  Tuesday, he said that though this has not been attempted in humans, about four years ago, it was accomplished in monkey embryos; thus far, the animals seem to be healthy, though we are unce...

I have had that silly song from Barney in my head all morning.  I guess because the sun is shining strong this morning--"bright and morning sun--please shine down on me." :)  A poem by Mary Oliver, a favorite, comes to mind: The Sun Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone-- and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on the other side of the world, like a red flower streaming upward on its heavenly oils[. . .] do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure that fills you, as the sun reaches out, as it warms you as you stand there, empty-handed-- or have you too turned from this world-- or have you too gone crazy for power, for things? Lovely, isn't it?  Oliver captures so well my feelings about the sun's ...

Hiking the Exclamation Point at Chimney Rock with Cousin Jameson, Ben, Knox, Mommy and Daddy Cultivation at its finest at the Biltmore--the same landscape architect who designed Central Park Our view at breakfast the last couple of mornings at Carolina Heaven

It was one of those doctor visits.  A new neurologist and I was spent from sharing the story of my son's 16 years.  After two hours at UNC-Chapel Hill, I drove to Franklin Street.  The last time we walked this street, a deliciousness wafted from the Italian Pizzeria that I would not pass up this time. I wheel D in and we are greeted by a handsome, young Italian.  With the collar of his polo flipped up, he carries himself like a soccer player--former soccer player, that is. His black hair is receding--he's probably in his early 30s. "What's your name, young man?" he speaks to D with a thick, maybe Sicilian accent.  D struggles to answer, but instead of answering for him as I often do, I wait.  The man was speaking to him, not me. "D,"  he replies thickly. "DAVE!"  was the Italian proprietor's exclamation.  I was going to correct the name, but, as I said before, I was exhausted, and just managed a smile.  He continued, "Dave? ...

Psalm 19 The heavens declare the glory of God,     and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. 2  Day to day pours out speech,      and night to night reveals knowledge.   3  There is no speech, nor are there words,      whose voice is not heard. In my yard, something is always blooming.   Just before I stop noticing the exquisiteness of one plant or the moment I become sad about its wilted bloom, another beauty announces itself.  The boys and I planted some seeds to contribute to our ongoing beauty, and as a precursor to a garden endeavor, some pepper plants to promote eating fresh.  It was fun to play in the dirt together.  It felt good to have that caked dirt on my hands, for a few days impossible to remove from my cracked fingers. And I planted phlox. It's something I've always wanted in my yard.  It's fragrant, delicate, and easy-to-grow.  Many species ...