If you're wondering if I've heard of the Winter Brothers....

So here's a conversation that occurs nearly every time we go out in public as a family:

John Doe: Wow, they've got some really white hair!

Me: Yep. It makes them very easy to spot in a crowd.

PAUSE - they wait for me to explain more, but depending on my mood and energy level, I may or may not give in right away. If I don't,

John Doe: Where did they get that hair from?

At this point I give in and explain.

John Doe: Two brothers, huh? Have you ever heard of the Winter Brothers?

Me: Yep.

PAUSE. If they knew someone once with albinism, they insert that story here. If not, we sit in awkward silence for a few moments.

Me: Yep, we're going to teach our boys how to sing and get their act on the road soon.

I laugh at my own joke and then search for a quick exit.


A few weeks ago this situation played out with a microwave salesman in Sears. He started out saying he recognized us although we had no idea who he was. (Since we spend most of our time walking around our small city with two white-haired boys in tow, this is pretty common. I imagine it must be what celebrities feel like - slightly flattered and violated all at the same time.)

This salesman followed me around the store while talking and finally backed me into a corner so I had little hope of escape. After the Winter Brothers comment, he explained that he knew their music well because he frequently sang their songs as a professional karaoke singer.

Me: Is that like the person who sings a few songs and gets people participating at karaoke bars?

Salesman: No, it's just me singing. People pay me to come to their parties and sing karaoke for a few hours.

Me: So it's just you and a karaoke machine?

Salesman: Yes.

I smile and listen with interest as he recounts his latest gigs, but secretly I wonder how a "professional karaoke singer" is any different than a regular singer who doesn't bother to memorize the words? The whole concept of paying someone to sing karaoke boggles my mind - like eating deep fried Twinkies or buying a Snuggie (seriously, if you turn it around, it's called a robe)

The salesman eventually asked me what I do professionally, so I told him about mothering and ministry. Many a wise minister has told me to make up a fake profession because telling people you are going into/are in the ministry opens up a whole can of worms. Unfortunately, I have yet to come up with a good alias (any suggestions?) and so I told the truth.

Since I am not ordained yet, I'm usually spared from people asking for advice or unburdening their life story on me. But even as a student, people hear ministry and almost always assume you belong to the same religion as them. This man wasn't any different, so I listened to several minutes of his "being saved" story and his journey to finding a Pentecostal church in the area. While I loved hearing his story, I could tell he wanted me to divulge a similar tale - but Pentecostal is about the furthest thing there is from Unitarian Universalism. We have "saved" stories of our own, but not in any form he would recognize.

Instead, I made some general remarks about religion that made him happy, then was relieved when the lights started turning off and a man came over the intercom to say they were closing.


I chose to go into ministry because I want to interact with a wide variety of people and be there to help them during the most vulnerable moments of their lives. I suppose as frustrating and draining as it can be to have the constant attention albinism brings, I've also met some interesting people along the way.

In seminary, we have a habit of labeling even the most mundane things as "our ministry" to make it easier to swallow. Don't like scrubbing the toilet? Think of it as your "cleaning ministry." So I suppose I should work harder at setting aside the internal eye-rolling and make my experiences with albinism part of my daily ministry...an opportunity to gently teach others, set a good example for my sons, and practice patience.

If nothing else, it's a great networking tool to meet people. Need entertainment for your next Bar Mitzvah or birthday party? Have I got a karaoke singer for you....

Curses

So last night, in a rare fit of motivation and energy, I decided to start painting the dining room while Robbie and the boys went to bed. Since the specialty paint stores were all closed by 5pm, we went to Lowe's and got some Valspar color-changing ceiling paint. I mean, who cares if you put cheap paint on a ceiling, right?

Oh how the gods punished me for that one.

Six back-breaking, neck-wrenching hours later, I "finished." It took that long because I had to constantly move the dining room table and chairs around the room (there's no where else in the house to stash them), I took breaks to nurse the baby several times, and I kept going over the same areas again and again to get good coverage. I feared the worst, but I decided to wait and see what it looked like the next morning. Unfortunately, the light of day only revealed a streaky mess that didn't even conceal the beige paint underneath!

I cheated on my faithful men - Mr. Sherwin Williams and Mr. Benjamin Moore - and now I'm going to beg their forgiveness in the hopes that they can cover this mess. Preferably in one coat.

So here's my question to all you DIY out there: should the ceiling be white, a shade lighter than the trim, or a few shades lighter than the wall?

There seems to be widespread debate about this on the internet and I figured I would revisit the question since I have to revisit the painting anyway.

Don't Drink the Water...

Our neighborhood is experiencing a population explosion, and this is only a sampling:


Of course as parents we have to torture them with staged photos (we used a ceiling fan as bait to keep them still). I know it's hard to tell which ones are ours, but I'll give you a hint....they're both wearing button down shirts.

I am so hilarious.


Also pictured, clockwise from the top are Jane, Per, and Keagan.

The Big 5

Ahhhh....my final paper is done, my roof is scheduled to be fixed tomorrow, my church curriculum is written and both boys are alive and - more importantly - sleeping. I can finally focus on the fun things, like celebrating our 5 year anniversary! Actually it is difficult to say we're celebrating because 1) This is our eloping anniversary and technically we agreed to celebrate the "second" wedding 2) Our wedding was on Leap Day (not on purpose) so it doesn't exist this year and 3)We have too much to do to actually celebrate.

Appropriately enough, I'll be spending our sort of anniversary officiating at a wedding - although it's kind of humorous that this couple is getting married after being together for 18 years and I married Robbie after two weeks. But love works in mysterious ways. Some days more mysterious than others....but I digress.

Just for fun, here's our "marriage by the numbers." In the last 5 years we've:

Moved 5 times
Visited 20 different states together
Dated for 2 weeks
Had 2 weddings
2 dogs
2 kids
And purchased 1 house that needs a whole hell of a lot of work

No wonder we're so exhausted!

I'm pretty sure the 5 year anniversary is the electronic slideshow anniversary, so here's a little something for my true love (WARNING, it's pretty long!):


My Montage 2/18/09

The Fionn-ster

It's finals week and my stupid roof is leaking, so pictures are the most I can muster for a few days. And yes, thanks to his rockin' Aunt Dani, that is Jon Stewart on his onesie...

This Is What a Feminist Looks Like

Who's the Dummy, Mummy?

Scenes from Daily Life

Emerson handed me his bottle of water (the child is very well hydrated at all times) and indicated that he wanted more - even though it was half full. I knew he wanted me to add some juice for flavor, so I said, "Emerson, say 'juice.'" He gave out a guttural sound that resembled a German sneezing. I had to at least applaud his effort.

Robbie heard all this and started laughing.

"Emerson, your in-apptitude is so cute."

I burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"Do you mean ineptitude? Gee, I wonder where he gets his difficulty with words from?"

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Before Fionn was born, I purchased as many new pj's as possible since I knew I'd be spending a lot of time in them after he was born. The other day I was wearing one pair that I scored at the Salvation Army. (They look like this except powder blue)

Robbie had seen them several times before, but with my mom as a captive audience, this time he announced that Blanche Devereux had called - she wanted her pajamas back.

My mom snorted her coffee and told me I should buy some fur-covered heels to complete the ensemble.

I'm not sure what concerns me more - that my husband doesn't appreciate my sense of style, or that he knows so much about the Golden Girls.

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Every Saturday I've been taking an intensive class at a local seminary entitled "Reformation History and Thought." I'm not a Christian Unitarian Universalist, but since my denomination is historically Christian, we have several history requirements that I need to fulfill. Needless to say, learning about 16th century theologians for 8 hours on a Saturday is enough to make anyone want to stab themselves in the head with a mechanical pencil (I've come close on a few occasions) Luckily my professor is a very enigmatic German woman who knows a lot of odd stories about Martin Luther and who makes humorous analogies every once in a while that help me stay awake.

For example, the other day she announced that "children are the perfect examples of the fact that we are born with original sin." For a split second I was horrified at this comparison...then I thought about my little caveman of a toddler throwing tantrums and I saw her point.

She also made an analogy that compared good people without sin to Jonathan or Granny Smith apples while people with sin are "crap-apples."

Her inapptitude is so cute.