Things are beginning to feel more like what my sister described as “whatever version of normal the three of you decide works”.
Inspired by the Giada DiLauretis/Bobby Flay vs. Rachael Ray/Mario Batali Iron Chef battle (it was epic!), I cooked dinner for the first time in ages. Chicken marinated in balsamic vinegar over couscous and grilled red peppers. Kip, who was shocked he liked couscous so much, ate all of the tupperware I packed for him to take to work AND the leftovers I’d been planning to use for dinner the next day. Victory!!!
Sister Marie called and asked if I’d be willing to present a lecture on the gospel of Matthew at the church’s new Bible study sometime soon. I’ve been celebating/preparing by unearthing my old copy of Burridge’s “Four Gospels, One Jesus?” and reminding myself why that is the single best book I’ve ever read on the subject. Lest I’d become worried that my exegetical muscles had atrophied (which I had), I’ve been feeling that old academic tickle come back--the one that bears a striking resemblance to the way that Kip made me feel when we worked together at camp; my heart beats a little faster, my face gets a little red, I’m overcome by a curious urge to giggle. In short, I feel like a giddy little schoolgirl, but instead of a boy I’m completely infatuated with studying the Word. It feels SO good.
Also, I cleaned our floor for the first time with the new Rubbermaid dohickey that my mom got me while she was here--the one that’s just like a Swiffer Wet Jet but infinitely awesomer because it has reusable cleaning pads instead of disposable ones and a cleaning solution container that you can put your own solutions into--and it rocked my world. And now I’m staying up way too late blogging. See? Normalcy.