How to beat the ads

My brown dress shoes didn’t quite survive the wedding we attended a few weeks ago. So, I’ve been glued to the computer, looking at new shoes.

I haven’t bought any. But the happy result is that now, all of my browser’s banner ads show pictures of elegant, brown, leather or faux-leather shoes. This is more pleasing to have in the background than the usual eye-popping fare.

It also has sparked an idea for making the web advertisements on one’s computer less painful to view – assuming, of course, that one’s ad-blocker doesn’t already keep everything out.

(1) One should choose something nice to look at.

(2) It has to be something one could buy (not, e.g., a fawn or Mt. Fuji).

But:

(3) It should be something that one has almost no desire to buy, so that it won’t distract one (much).

(4) Any specimen should look like any other.

(5) Corollary: the object should come in a standard color. And this color must be muted, not garish.

(6) Ideally, it should be a natural object. (Not a box of Brillo pads. Not a jug of laundry detergent. A transparent, full milk jug is better but not ideal; see, above, the third point.)

(This sixth point will be qualified later.)

(7) One should visit lots of merchant’s websites and click on pictures of the object. One should do this for several days.

(8) Voilà. This pleasant object, and nothing else, will appear where garish things once did.

I suggest looking at lots of merchant’s pictures of unadorned blue spruce Christmas trees. After a few days, your screen will be flanked by a lovely forest rather than by the Las Vegas Strip. If you can’t stomach anything to do with Christmas, browse cacti or cilantro or firewood instead. You get the idea.

Now I’ll qualify (6). You can get away with looking at artificial Christmas trees because they resemble the natural ones. Not all merchandise has this characteristic, however.

Peanuts PDFs; UK map; Midwestern wedding

All of the Peanuts strips, PDF format, $25. Offer ends in 12 days.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

My UK wall map – a Christmas gift from my father-in-law – has been framed at last in a heavy, wooden contraption from Goodwill. Karin, the handy one, did the framing. My idea is to hang the map next to the TV so that we can check it when we watch homicidal/​agricultural/​veterinary programs, e.g. our latest, The Highland Vet.

Current reading: François Mauriac, Genetrix; Sue Townsend, Adrian Mole: The Prostrate Years (the last book in the series). And lots of other books.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I should describe the wedding we attended on Sunday. Samuel bore the rings with aplomb. The much younger flower girl lagged behind, so Samuel retraced his steps, grabbed some petals, and strewed them for her. All else went according to the script: the brief vowing ceremony; the post-vowing, pre-dining interlude for photos; the popcorn and donut tables; the soda and liquor booths; the dinner rolls, sweet corn, and mashed potatoes; the couple’s dance, the bride’s dance with her father, and the groom’s with his mother; and the Cha-Cha Slide. There was no removal of the garter with teeth – none we stayed for, anyway. When we left, I was dead-tired. I’d held squirmy Abel several hours. It was as wearying as if I’d spent the day moving house.

Samuel and Daniel loved the Cha-Cha Slide; their grandpa danced it with them. That ex-DJ was in his element. I’ve not met a more ardent ritual-relisher.

An entry, posted late, requiring every ounce of strength to type

Notable World Cup “tuneup” results:

• Ecuador 1, Morocco 1 (cracker of a game)
• Brazil 1, France 2 (France dominant)
• England 1, Uruguay 1 (tedious)
• Colombia 1, Croatia 2 (dunno)
• South Korea 0, Ivory Coast 4 (look out for the “Elephants”)
• USA 2, Belgium 5 (too soon to gloat, alas)

Tomorrow promises to be grueling; today already was. Lily, Karin’s sister, will be married tomorrow afternoon. It’s the childcare that vexes. Samuel, at least, is accounted for: he’ll bear the rings. He successfully brought the cushion down the aisle during today’s rehearsal.

Abel and Daniel are another matter. The last thing the ceremony needs is a chorus of squawking. I scouted the building today for possible retreating-places. There aren’t many.

Today, before I chased around and, ocassionally, strong-armed Abel and Daniel, I’d already tired myself loading a humungous, old brush pile – which had plagued our backyard since we bought the property in 2021 – into our pastor’s trailer. Pastor Josh and I took the debris to the church and tossed it into the forest next to the parking lot. It’s not every day you get to dump stuff in a forest.

This has been a grueling entry to type, too, because my “shift” key has been sticking.

“Another one rides the bus,” pt. 2; R.I.P. two mainstays

Success!

The bus took Samuel to school this morning for the first time.

I’m pleased that we got this sorted out within the month. The bussing in this district is not well thought of.

That said, the half-dozen dispatchers and drivers Karin & I talked to this week were all wonderfully helpful and kind.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

R.I.P. Nevin Longenecker, distinguished high school science teacher. (No, really. Distinguished.) I used to drink coffee with him in the Social Studies lounge before I’d go off to make photocopies for lesser pedagogues.

He ended up coming to my wedding. When it was discovered that his was the longest-lasting marriage in attendance, he was obliged to give a little speech.

I knew teachers in the school who had no idea how remarkable his record was. He didn’t toot his own horn – at least, not to me.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

R.I.P. the iconic Dame Maggie Smith.

“I believe I am past my prime” (The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, 1969).

No: Her prime was just beginning.

A pocket full of rye

So, I finished re-reading A Pocket Full of Rye, which I greatly enjoyed.

A few remarks about Gladys, the parlormaid.

(1) There are many, many servant-Gladyses in Christieworld. Most are interchangeable – this one is surely the most fleshed-out Gladys.

Was “Gladys” really a common Christian name for members of the servant class in early-to-mid-twentieth-century Britain? Or is this a class marker of Christie’s own invention?

(2) This Gladys is said to be stupid and unattractive, with “adenoids” – a repulsive physical feature.

I looked it up. An adenoid is a body part – a kind of tonsil – that is important for fighting childhood infection. Everyone’s got ’em.

There must be some further usage. Does the term refer to a medical condition, perhaps? A behavior? Breathing loudly? Speaking from the back of one’s nose? (Karin suggests).

(3) 2008’s TV Gladys (Rose Heiney) seems to have been cast and costumed to look like 1985’s TV Gladys (Annette Badland), even though the book is not so specific about how Gladys looks.

There is nothing new under the sun.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Happy seventh wedding anniversary to Karin & me.

A wedding

Our big event this weekend was the wedding of our friend, Eman. She was Karin’s colleague and mine in different jobs before Karin & I were married.

I’d never attended any sort of Islamic service, so I was keen to view the proceedings. The Imam gave a short discourse on marriage. The observant men retired to pray in a far corner of the hall. The Best Man gave a wise and humane speech on how a relationship changes when the children arrive. I also was interested to see Muslims of a variety of origins make each other’s acquaintance and place each other on different spots of the map (Chechnya, Turkey, etc.). In this way the service wasn’t so unlike a gathering of expatriates at Quito’s English Fellowship Church.

Eman and Ahmed sat on a high-backed white couch; guests took turns approaching them to offer congratulations. For dinner, we had such Islamic delicacies as mashed potatoes, roast beef, and Chicken Kiev. The venue was attached to a golf course. Deer roamed the links. Karin’s dad and Carol, his girlfriend, watched over Samuel and Daniel for us at their house.

A wedding

Continuing on the subject of gluttony, yesterday was my “last hurrah,” at least for the season: I made two trips down a Polish buffet line. (If anything has a claim to being “South Bend cuisine,” it’s Polish food.) The occasion was my mother-in-law’s wedding. You’ll recall that she was widowed in 2020. Now she is married to Scott, her dead husband’s ex-roommate. It was a canny move. When Rick died, she griefstrickenly bequeathed Rick’s guns to Scott; now, presumably, she has got them back. Karin and Samuel and I rode to the wedding with McKenzie, Karin’s mom’s ex-foster daughter. McKenzie wore sweatpants and swigged from a half-gallon of milk and talked on her phone to her imprisoned boyfriend. “I have a gift card,” she told him. “I’m going to sell it to buy you another phone card.” It was a cheerful conversation. Like Scott and unlike the rest of my mother-in-law’s family, McKenzie is a happy-go-lucky sort of person. She gleefully told her boyfriend that her tattoo artist had just been jailed.

We also had a delicious venison stew, courtesy of my mother-in-law’s Uncle Fred, who shoots deer and hangs them up in his front yard. Uncle Fred preached the sermon. Karin said it was about sin (Uncle Fred is another happy-go-lucky sort of person). I didn’t hear it; Samuel started howling as soon as the bride walked up the aisle, so I took him to a Sunday School room where he played with toy cars and I read Agatha Christie. Karin told me not to bring a book to the wedding, but I did anyway; one never knows. I don’t think Karin’s mom noticed. She seemed to be relishing everything else that was going on.

June’s poem

… is “Father and Son.”

(Cat Stevens)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I congratulate my sweet cousin Annie for her wedding, which I attended last night.

Anniversary #3

Well, I turned in the three dissertation chapters, which I’m very glad about. I do wish they were better.

Now I have to finish writing one more chapter and the introduction.

Today, Karin & I celebrated our third wedding anniversary at a pasta restaurant called Macri’s that I recommend to all. While we were eating our pasta, we watched James Holzhauer, the virtuoso Jeopardy! contestant, slaughter two more opponents. It was very gratifying.

Also gratifying is our bedtime reading: Candide, illustrated by the great Sheilah Beckett (life story here; art samples here). If ever I get a tattoo, it will be of one of Beckett’s Candide drawings.

August’s poem

This one, from Trial by Jury, is by the librettist W.S. Gilbert.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Song – Judge
When I, good friends, was called to the bar,
I’d an appetite fresh and hearty,
But I was, as many young barristers are,
An impecunious party.
I’d a swallow-tail coat of a beautiful blue –
And a brief which I bought of a booby –
A couple of shirts, and a collar or two,
And a ring that looked like a ruby!

Chorus
A couple of shirts, and collar or two,
And a ring that looked like a ruby!

In Westminister Hall I danced a dance,
Like a semi-despondent fury;
For I thought I never should hit on a chance
Of addressing a British Jury –
But I soon got tired of third-class journeys,
And dinners of bread and water;
So I fell in love with a rich attorney’s
Elderly, ugly daughter.

So he fell in love [etc.].

The rich attorney, he jumped with joy,
And replied to my fond professions:
“You’ll reap the reward of your pluck, my boy
At the Bailey and Middlesex Sessions.
You’ll soon get used to her looks,” said he,
“And a very nice girl you will find her!
She may very well pass for forty-three
In the dusk, with a light behind her!”

She has often been taken for forty-three
In the dusk, with a light behind her.

The rich attorney was good as his word;
The briefs came trooping gaily,
And every day my voice was heard
At the Sessions or Ancient Bailey.
All thieves who could my fees afford
Relied on my orations,
And many a burglar I’ve restored
To his friends and his relations.

And many a burglar [etc.].

At length I became as rich as the Gurneys –
An incubus then I thought her,
So I threw over that rich attorney’s
Elderly, ugly daughter.
The rich attorney my character high
Tried vainly to disparage –
And now, if you please, I’m ready to try
This Breach of Promise of Marriage!

And now, if you please, he’s ready to try
This Breach of Promise of Marriage.

Judge
For now I am a Judge!

All
And a good Judge too!

Yes, now I am a Judge!

And a good Judge too!

Though all my law is fudge,
Yet I’ll never, never budge,
But I’ll live and die a Judge!

And a good Judge too!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Thus, a century later, the Happy Mondays released their track “Judge Fudge.” Its lyrics also would merit inclusion in this series of poems.

Jasper

We bought a cat-tree for Jasper. He loves it. We love it. Watching Jasper play upon it is a true joy.

In this video he attacks his mouse-shrimp.

Karin has written a song for Jasper, to the tune of “Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1.”

Ohh Jassssperr Errrrdel,
Youu arrrre my sonnnn …

I took off my wedding ring, and during the night Jasper must have hidden it somewhere. He’s a very affectionate, playful cat … also, a naughty one.

Salt Lake City; Lehi; South Bend

A song from Shrek.

At Temple Square we were spoken to by a nice, young, Taiwanese missionary.

Where have you come from?

Indiana.

What brings you to Salt Lake City?

Our honeymoon.

How exciting! – would it please you to be married to each other for all of eternity?

We don’t believe in that (I told her after an awkward pause).

What is your church?

The Missionary Church (said Karin).

Oh! The missionaries! Good! Did you talk to the missionaries?

Yes. We talked to the missionaries many times.

That’s good. That’s very good. Well, enjoy your visit to Salt Lake City.

Thank you.

We strolled upon the grounds; we peeked into the building where the famous pipe organ sits. The Temple itself cannot be accessed, but a 3-D model of its innards can be viewed in the South Visitors’ Center. In the North Visitors’ Center we looked at some religious art. I tried to photograph a scene of the Garden of Eden, but, no matter how I adjusted the camera, Eve & Adam came out blurry.

Was this a trick of the lighting? Was it something supernatural?

Wipe your camera lens, said Karin.

Oh.

The next day we rode the public transport out to the suburb of Lehi, where there’s a tourism complex called Thanksgiving Point. It has museums, gardens, and a petting zoo. We began with the Museum of Ancient Life, where we looked at dinosaur skeletons and browsed through a gift shop that had all sorts of plush and plastic dinosaurs. We viewed a video, from 1991, of the dinosaurs’ extinction. … Next we visited the petting zoo, which was rather crowded: there were numerous Mormon mothers, blond, thin, carefully made up, pregnant, with three or four small children in tow.

The real challenge was presented by the next site, a children’s museum/playground. Getting there required a couple of miles of walking in the harsh desert sunlight. We’d forgotten our sunscreen, and we’d already been on our feet for a long time. I was getting grumpy.

Walk, walk, walk. We passed office parks. The sun glinted off of the windows. SUVs full of children drove past us.

The mountains began to look rather different.

Are you sure you want to see this museum?, I asked Karin.

Yes. She was sure.

When we got there, I wasn’t thrilled. I felt like an adult at a Chuck-E-Cheese. There was an enormous jungle gym-type structure of mesh and slides and rope bridges. Due to my great fat, I had trouble extricating myself from the rope bridges. … What I did wish to try was the “wind room,” a small compartment through which blew gusts of up to 85 m.p.h. The children hogged the “wind room” for a long time. But when we did finally get to try it, it was truly refreshing. I decided that it atoned for the rest of the children’s museum/playground.

What remained to be visited was the garden, right next to the museum; but to enter it, we again had to walk and walk. We passed an entire golf course. It became clear that this garden was enormous, and that it didn’t have much shade. At the entrance there were golf-cart rentals of $30 for one hour. We decided to stay on foot and to see only two-thirds of the garden.

Afterward, I was very grumpy. But I told myself, this is one of the precious aspects of marriage. This is an experience with my spouse.

I looked over at Karin, and she was beautiful. “I’m tired and I’m cranky,” I admitted to her. “But this has been a lovely day with you.” We held hands. We now knew the route better, and so we cut across some parking lots.

On the train, I enjoyed looking at Karin while she listened to her audiobook.

The next day we rode out to a nearer suburb. We ate at In-N-Out Burger and bought things at a thrift shop. We returned early to Salt Lake City, did our laundry, and rested up for the following day’s journey back to South Bend.

Now we’ve had two straight nights at home. Jasper is happy to see us, though mostly he hides in cool places, because his coat is thick and it’s sweltering in our apartment.

The wedding; the honeymoon; Independiente del Valle

Amazing, how when a task is so carefully rehearsed, its execution is so simple. There were next-to-no problems during the wedding. Apparently one of Karin’s cousins showed up drunk, but he behaved himself. Slightly more annoying was one of Karin’s great-uncles, who, as he congratulated me, told me to keep my wife in line by beating her. “No, no, no,” I said. Then, during the reception, he accosted me a few more times and made other bizarre remarks.

“My mom detests that guy,” Karin told me. “And guess what his job is? He’s a pastor!”

Apart from that horrid person, all the guests were lovely, and the officiants and maids and men performed their duties, and many other people helped out in small ways so that Karin & I had only to say our vows and to receive our greetings.

Then we went home and ate Chinese food.

The next day we rode the train to Chicago. The day after that, we got up at 2:30 in the morning, trudged to the airport, and flew to Salt Lake City. The young man who sat next to us was determined not to acknowledge us. I offered to buy him a drink, but he kept his face glued to the window. He reminded me of Charlie Brown’s tentmate (click to enlarge):

In Salt Lake City, the air was a little thin. “Mountains!” Karin said, astonished. “One sees them in pictures, but look, those are really there!” Indeed, the scenery was stunning all during our drive to Southern Utah, to the national parks. (Later I’ll discuss that trip in greater detail.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Independiente del Valle have qualified for the semifinals of the Copa Libertadores. Here is their penalty shootout.

Stephen’s speech

Obviously I was present at my own wedding, and I have some things to say about it. But for now here is the Best Man’s speech.

Before I begin, I would like to thank John-Paul for asking me to come here in front of so many people to do some public speaking. So: thanks, John-Paul.

As I was thinking about what to do today, I figured that I should just keep to the main purposes of the Best Man Speech. I came up with three.

The first, I suppose, is to provide some amusement or entertainment. It’s traditional, especially if the speaker is a brother, to bring up a funny story from the groom’s childhood or teenage years. Unfortunately, I am ten years younger than John-Paul. I either wasn’t around yet or I just don’t remember much about those times. I never saw him, e.g., when he would pick up cigarette butts from the street and try to smoke them. Nor do I remember when he would pray for ten minutes at a time to put off getting his shots. I never saw him when he was in grade school, where he was known to put on short plays he had spent hours adapting from Shakespeare. By the way, those plays were pretty good. I’ve read them.

My apologies for not being able to tell you more about when John-Paul was younger and, maybe, a little wilder? But no matter. I remember plenty about when he was older.

That brings me to the second purpose: I’m supposed to highlight some of the groom’s best qualities. Here is a sampling. John-Paul is an authentic person: he will always speak candidly to you. John-Paul is very intelligent and has an informed opinion on just about everything, even different types of font, which he is surprisingly eager to talk about. John-Paul is a person of great integrity: he won’t put up with any nonsense. John-Paul is very funny: in most of our conversations we have at least one good laugh. John-Paul is a voracious reader, and will be glad to give you some book recommendations, if you ask. John-Paul will always try to see the good in other people.

Finally, I am supposed to provide some reassurance about the matter at hand: the wedding. I remember one of the first times I saw John-Paul and Karin interacting together. It was during a pickup soccer game. If you know our family, you know that soccer is of great value to us. So when Karin started coming to our weekend pickup games just to watch him play, I really should have been clued in that something out of the ordinary was going on. Fortunately, John-Paul must have noticed because he started to brag about his leg muscles even more than usual. If Karin is willing to put up with that, then I know she must be someone special.

In all seriousness, we are glad the two of them noticed each other when they did. Their support and encouragement for one another has been evident for some time now, and we are eager to officially welcome Karin to the family. We are so happy for them, and we trust that God will guide their lives together.

My bachelor party

We held my bachelor party last night. It was nothing very strenuous. I figured I was too fat to fulfill my longtime dream of playing soccer, so I planned only to have a meal.

As the meal began to wind down, various partiers excused themselves. The others wondered what we’d do next.

“We could go to Barnes & Noble,” I said, “and each of you could buy me a book.”

A few more of the partiers excused themselves.

Martin arrived late. A graduating high-school student had chosen him as his most influential teacher, and Martin had been obliged to go to a ceremony to be honored by him. The student hadn’t attended the ceremony.

“We could go home and watch TV,” I said. “Those are the two things that I enjoy doing. I like to buy books and to watch TV.”

“Shots!” said my friend Brandon.

“No.”

My tone was curt. I didn’t want to drink shots.

“I mean, penalty shots!” said Brandon. “Soccer shots!”

That seemed like a good idea. Kicking penalty shots wouldn’t require too much effort.

Brandon and David and Stephen and Martin and our other friend Scott and I got into our cars and headed over to Bethel to take penalty shots at the goals there. But one field was being sprinkled, and the other had players on it, and the remaining goals were chained away out of reach.

“The Kroc Center!” we said.

“Peace out,” said Martin and Scott.

Brandon and David and Stephen and I went to the field at the Kroc Center. It was full of child lacrosse players, playing in some organized league. I felt some resentment toward the middle classes.

“The Trinity School!” we said.

The field at that school is sometimes accessible. We tried our luck. The gate was open.

We played three penalty shootout tournaments. My objective was to score at least one goal. (At a bachelor party, it’s important for the groom-to-be to score at least one goal.) Once this was achieved, I basically stopped trying and let the ball sail wherever it wished to.

Tomorrow, Karin & I’ll get married. I feel the momentousness. I’m slightly quieter than usual.

Boundary Islet, etc.

That paper, that thorn-in-my-own-flesh history paper, has been submitted, and I’ve resolved never to take another class again. I guess this means I won’t be earning any more degrees, apart from my philosophy doctorate. Very well.

On Boundary Islet, Tasmania has a land border with Victoria. (Every day that I don’t busy myself with coursework, I learn something new.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Recent wedding arrivals: Ana, my dad, and my mom. Of course, more are expected.

Mary’s birthday was yesterday. It wasn’t a fun day for her. She was painfully sick.

India

I had to buy a certain cheap-looking DVD for the high school Social Studies Dept. The back cover says:

Discover the enchanting and vibrant land of India and its people. INDIA – ONE COUNTRY, A MILLION WORLDS lets you explore ancient civilizations, phenomenal architecture and brings you up-close to India’s dynamic and diverse culture. Learn of India’s past and present, including Mahatma Ghandi’s struggle for India’s freedom and present day city life including customs and religious ceremonies. Everything from India’s geography and climate to present political formation is all here in INDIA – ONE COUNTRY, A MILLION WORLDS.
Running Time: 24 Minutes.

My Juan Bosch paper, which was due last Sunday, is nearly, but not completely, written. (I have excuses, but surely no one wants to hear them.) The teacher is breathing down my neck just a little. My loved ones are breathing down it quite a lot more. I want to curl up in a dark, small room so that I can watch Law and Order: Special Victims Unit in peace.

I do allow myself to check the soccer scores. Leicester City have won the English Premier League title, shocking the world. Atlético de Madrid have eliminated Bayern Munich from the Champions League. Independiente del Valle have eliminated River Plate from the Copa Libertadores.

Rumor has it, David has arrived from Houston, two weeks before the wedding.

Looking forward

Karin & I’ll be married in one month and one week.

People ask me, have you any misgivings? No, I haven’t. Of the two of us, I’m clearly getting the better deal.

This doesn’t mean I never worry. I dreamed, last night, that we were at the church and that the ceremony was about to begin. I’d forgotten the suit I was meant to wear; and so I scurried from uncle to uncle, asking to swap outfits.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

My sweetie & I hoped to honeymoon in Scotland.

I was all set to take Lanark to read. We’d both been learning the poetry of William McGonagall.

The trip would cost us next to nothing: Karin’s grandpa would supply the airline miles. Alas, his travel agent tried to burden us with tours and hotels. The price became prohibitive.

We ended up booking the trip ourselves – to Utah – whose scenery is also lovely, but very different. This will be my chance to finally hunker down and study the Book of Mormon.

Grammar and style

At IUSB, some iffy tutoring requests.

An adult student wishes me to review one of her Facebook posts. Is it my job to do this? I’m not sure. But I do do it; I tell her I’m glad she’s getting help with her writing.

This opens up Pandora’s Box. Next shift, a guy asks for help to write a text message. A text message.

“I need to know if the grammar is exactly right,” he says.

“It’s a text message,” I tell him. “The convention is to take shortcuts with the grammar.”

“I’m very concerned about using proper grammar. I need you to advise me about the semicolons.”

Indeed, there are many semicolons in his brief text message.

“Each of them is grammatical,” I explain. “But, stylistically, it’s odd to have so many in such a short passage. I would keep this one” – this is stretching the limits of good advice, but he seems extremely fond of his semicolons – “and change these others into periods.”

He is grateful to be told something.

“On the other hand,” (once I get going, it isn’t easy to stop) “grammatically, this passage, here, isn’t a complete sentence. But stylistically that’s all right because sentence fragments are allowed in text messages.”

The light bulb goes on. Grammar isn’t style. We may have accomplished something, after all.

After work, I go to Karin’s apartment. “Bad news,” Karin says. “When we get married, we’re going to have to find somewhere else to live. My landlord has a friend he wants to rent the downstairs to.”

Fair enough.

“Oh, and after he told me that, he found out that you do go to work. ‘John-Paul has a job?’ he said. ‘He has two jobs,’ I informed him.”

“I wish you’d told him earlier. All this time, he’s been assuming I’m a deadbeat.”

“Well, he may not have assumed,” Karin says. “He may have heard it from my dad.”

“I should ask my bosses to write some recommendation letters to your dad.”

“Yes,” says Karin. “Your bosses seem to like you.”

Paying attention

Another day, another cold cut sandwich – another assault. This time, I let Jasper have a morsel of the bread. I don’t think he ate it, but he did play with it, and so I was able to dine in peace.

We snuggled later.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

The strongest objector to the wedding has been Karin’s dad. (In his defense: when Karin & I became engaged, he didn’t even know what my last name was.) But, lately, he’s been warming to our decision.

Last week, he gave us supper, twice.

The first time, we ate chicken wings. Karin’s dad told us a story about how he brought Hungarian soup to work, to share. He was afraid no one would like the soup; but once the sour cream was stirred in, his colleagues liked it fine.

The second time, we ate fried chicken.

Again Karin’s dad related the Hungarian soup story. “I thought everyone would hate the soup,” he told us. “But they all took leftovers home with them.” “Well,” I pointed out, “what the soup needed was a little sour cream.”

Karin’s dad looked at me curiously. “Yes,” he said. “Sour cream does help Hungarian soup.”

Karin was delighted. (Though, at the time, she didn’t show it.)