A New Hobby.........For Sale

You've all been to a flea market and seen those socks that some Grandma spends all of her time in retirement making while her husband plays golf, right? Well, I don't play golf, we're not grandparents, and we're certainly not retired. In any case, the Mrs. recently got this crazy notion that she could make these socks with the dangly beads and frills sewn onto them. Pictured at left, is the result of her recent quest, and summed up in one word, success. She has snagged the secret to the socks feverishly unfurling her frills with fervor and finesse. I myself have been amazed at this new found feat for the feet. In fact, she took two pairs to church this morning to give to one of the babies in the congregation. Mothers, young and old alike, oo'd and aw'd at the sight of these elegant and dainty creations. I must confess however, I was disappointed not once to hear, "Can you make me a pair, I'll gladly pay you?" Or, "I'd like to place my order for X number of pairs in time for Christmas." Surely there must be a way to market this new found venture without spending my weekends on the flea market circuit amongst the throng of retired RV'ers with trailers packed with goods. For the love of Pete, I'm too young for that lifestyle not to mention not even being retired yet!

So please, if you or anyone you know can wear any of these socks please send your order now. And if you order now, I'll even throw in some knives from the kitchen! But do hurry as there are no operators standing by and besides, it may take the Mrs. until Christmas to finish her next pair...

Life on Scooters Drive

Pictured at left is Marissa 'helping' me change the oil in the car. If only I could get her to do the transmission too!

At right is Kavan sipping coffee...

Actually he had just commented that the Presidential candidate representing the incumbent party has not won an election when the Dow was down 5% or more in the month of October in the 20th century. Not bad for a 2-year old, eh?

Tara is all smiles as hockey season starts tomorrow night. Yeah, baby, yeah!!!

At right are all of the offspring during a recent "Art Show" event held in our home in the upstairs "lounge." Mom and Dad were given "money" with which we could buy selected pieces, barter and haggle for others, and some masterpieces were noted as "not for sale." My kids' imaginations and their creativity ceases to amaze me, not to mention their ability to drive a hard bargain. Wonder where they get that from?

As some of you know, we purchased a camper back in the spring which was my "home" for the summer as I began the Family Life Chaplain program at Fort Benning. This past weekend (12-14 September) however, we made our maiden voyage as a family less than 30 miles away at the FDR Georgia State Park. Pictured at right is our brood during one of the lighter moments.

At left however, is what I like to call the result of family sculpting gone bad. In marriage and family therapy there is a concept called family sculpting. Think of it as a snapshot, if you will, of what one's family looks like in the normal routine of everyday life. Camping, as I have come to conclude, is a reorganizing of the normal family sculpture. To put in other terms, moving the family from a 2,800+ square foot house into a 26-foot camper is an extreme restructuring of the family sculpture.

As the wife and I were laying on our bed/sofa Saturday morning, Lori lazily perusing a magazine, myself giving the appearance of reading homework, the girls watching a movie in their "room" in the back of the camper, peace and tranquility seemed to be achieved even in the midst of our new found sculpture. As camping fate would have it however, the peace and tranquility that we were enjoying was intruded by two siblings whose sculpture seemed to crumble. One wanted on the top bunk in order to see the movie better, the other refuted the request with vehement and boisterous opposition. Just as I peered over the top of my book the sculpture crumbled. The sibling who was standing on the stool attempting to gain access to the top bunk was unaware that her younger and smaller sibling had chosen to join with on the stool. In that moment the stool gave way to the brewing storm and alas, Kavan's first trip to the E.R. was soon forthcoming as he tumbled in the tight space hitting his lip on the bottom bunk.

As if by design, Mom leaped from her lackadaisical posture to swoop her son into her arms and offer the comfort only a mother could give. The feuding sisters had now turned their energy into tears realizing that Kavan was hurt showing genuine concern for his injury. It wasn't until Lori pulled the boy from her chest that the blood became evident. The sculpture had now truly crumbled. The siblings, regardless of role in the affair, were all sent to the suburban to prepare for the ensuing journey to the nearest E.R. We quickly but calmly gathered necessary items for what we expected to be a typically lengthy E.R. visit.

Upon arriving at the E.R. we entered expecting the typical scene of listless souls aging as they waited to be seen. At first I was pleasantly surprised to find the waiting room empty. "We'll be first!" I immediately thought to myself. However, no one was at the reception desk. Even the admissions window where payments are made was vacant. Now I was concerned, what hospital is not prepared to take money? As I walked down the hall past even the empty X-ray department I wondered if the boys from the horror movie portrayed in the "Dead-Zone" Verizon commercial were soon to appear. My journey took me all the way to the main hospital entrance where human life did exist in this middle of nowhere semi-deserted hospital. We were soon in the triage room and after a short wait escorted to the treatment area. As all parents can attest that have watched their offspring in pain, the next part was painful for Mom and Dad as our job was to hold our little man while the doctor installed the three stitches that would soon be coined as Kavan's whiskers--noted in picture above left.

His stitches came out Thursday of this week. Our family sculpture has regained its original shape just as memory foam that was severely compressed for a couple of days will ultimately return to its original state. We had a good chat after returning home about the overall experience much of which is relegated to the confidence of our immediate family circle. However, I can assure you that our family sculpture is healthy and stable. And as you can see below, the Little Man is no worse for the wear! Blessings to all.

Already consumed with a passion for the most biblical of sports, the "Little Man" pauses from his workout for this photo op. Many believe that his first words were "hockey, hockey!"

In the Beginning

In the beginning, that's a good place to start. That's how God started and look how well things turned out.

Pictured right is our new home, or more accurately our temporary place of residence.

As we figure this out we'll add more details and things worth actually sharing as well. Blessings to all.

The Lee Family6