Especially for Anne after reading this post. This funny-sad poem came to mind when I read the article Anne linked attributing the increase in asthma, allergies, and immune disorders to the santized environment that we in the West strive for. While I make it make it my ambition to keep a clean house, not a sterile one - and there is a difference - I tend to think these problems develop more because of eating dead food, that is, food that's had all the life pasteurized or irradiated out of it. Well, that and unnecessary vaccinations, but that's a whole nother subject, and one I'm not willing to discuss right now. ;-)

Strictly Germ-Proof
by Arthur Guiterman

The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gambolled up;
They looked upon the creature with a loathing undisguised;
It wasn't disinfected and it wasn't sterilised.

They said it was microbic and a hotbed of disease;
They steamed it in a vapor of a thousand-odd degrees;
They froze it in a freezer that was cold as banished hope
And washed it in permanganate with carbolated soap.

In sulphurated hydrogen they steeped its wiggly ears;
They trimmed its frisky whiskers with a pair of hard-boiled shears;
They donned their rubber mittens and they took it by the hand
And 'lected it a member of the Fumigated Band.

There's not a micrococcus in the garden where they play;
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day;
And each imbibes his rations from a hygienic cup--
The Bunny and The Baby and The Prophylactic Pup.

Well, okay
Random updates for my faithful readers. ;-)

My two oldest (17yod and 15yos) are visiting my parents in Arkansas. They've been gone for about a week and a half and won't be home for another couple of weeks. I miss their work of course - Saturday I spent the whole entire day (about six hours anyway) doing Number 1 Son's job - cutting grass - but didn't finish it. And my workload in the house has doubled with Elai gone, since she does a lot of the kitchen work, including cooking lunch nearly every day and supper many days, and doing fun things with the little ones. But mostly I miss their conversation. It's so nice having nearly grown up children to talk with.

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Prayer request - my father in law had a hemorrhagic stroke Saturday, and is stable now, but he's paralyzed on the right side. We haven't had an update since yesterday, so that means no change so far.

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Have y'all been praying for me? Saturday we saw a new family looking at the house next door, so Mike went over to speak to them. The agent said that the family who had a contract on the house is trying to back out - they don't like the colors the builder has chosen. :-D

I told him that if he meets any more potential neighbors he ought to casually mention that we have seven children and nineteen animals, and that we hope to have more. Of course, if they ask, "More children or more animals?" he'd say, "Both." It's a public service, really. People want to know what kind of neighborhood they're getting into before they lay out cash. ;-)

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We're finally getting some much-needed rain. We've been digging up small trees from the woods around here and planting them along the property line to make a border. Boundary lines always make a property look so civilized, don't you think?

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I meant to post this back during the official poetry appreciation month of April, but it went by so quickly and I missed my chance. Well, Cindy has very kindly declared June to be the official poetry month of blogging homschooling mamas, so here's my contribution.

There are gains for all our losses,
   There are balms for all our pain:
But when youth, the dream, departs,
It takes something from our hearts,
   And it never comes again.

We are stronger, and are better,
   Under manhood's sterner reign:
Still we feel that something sweet
Followed youth, with flying feet,
   And will never come again.

Something beautiful is vanished,
   And we sigh for it in vain:
We behold it everywhere,
On the earth, and in the air,
   But it never comes again.

(Richard Henry Stoddard)

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It's been three weeks now since my dryer broke. It hasn't been any trouble at all, since #1Son rigged up a clever contrivance in the back yard for me to dry the laundry on in the sun, and Dear Husband cleverly rigged up a sytem of pulleys and lines in the basement for me to use during rain. The repairman is scheduled to come back Wednesday and install the part he ordered.

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I'm doing my spring cleaning now. A bit late, I know, but my asthma has really been acting up lately, so I've stripped my bedroom so I can wash and vacuum everything. My dream house has a separate dressing room for Mike and me so we don't have to have any clothes in the bedroom.

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Speaking of stripping - I need to do some serious decluttering around here. What with the recent change in our family's focus (read: there's a lot more outside work since we got goats and chickens!), I need to pare down on stuff inside. Clutter is my bane. I need to be ruthless. Ruthlessness regarding stuff is not a problem with me, but just physically handling so much stuff is. Sometimes I wish I had a magic wand. :-p

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Yesterday was Trinity Sunday, so I must post my favorite Trinity Sunday hymn:

O love, how deep, how broad, how high,
It fills the heart with ecstasy,
That God, the Son of God, should take
Our mortal form for mortals’ sake!

He sent no angel to our race
Of higher or of lower place,
But wore the robe of human frame
Himself, and to this lost world came.

For us baptized, for us He bore
His holy fast and hungered sore,
For us temptation sharp He knew;
For us the tempter overthrew.

For us He prayed; for us He taught;
For us His daily works He wrought;
By words and signs and actions thus
Still seeking not Himself, but us.

For us to wicked men betrayed,
Scourged, mocked, in purple robe arrayed,
He bore the shameful cross and death,
For us gave up His dying breath.

For us He rose from death again;
For us He went on high to reign;
For us He sent His Spirit here,
To guide, to strengthen, and to cheer.

To Him Whose boundless love has won
Salvation for us through His Son,
To God the Father, glory be
Both now and through eternity.

Words: Unknown author, 15th Century; translated from Latin to English by Benjamin Webb, 1854
Music: “Deo Gracias,” The Agincourt Song, 1415