A Little Chaos Theory

In the evening when the kids are in bed I spend some time at my computer. Scott is busy on his laptop in the next room working on his grad classes. Pablo likes to sleep under my feet at this time.

In the past couple weeks we’ve had increasing occurrences where the cats will charge the puppy and chase him across the house. Socrates started it, but Mickey Socks and Independence have done it as well.

I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s rather funny – especially since Pablo is at least double the size of each of them. But I have to wonder. Do I just have strange cats or dog-chasing more common than I would have guessed?

If there are any guys around this blog besides my husband, reading that we had Pablo neutered yesterday may make you cringe.

When I picked him up the woman working at the front desk was very earnest about the necessity of keeping him absolutely quiet for two weeks. The fact that he’s a 7-month-old puppy who lives in a house with 2 other dogs and three young boys is irrelevant. Quiet he should be.

Because of this, much to Pablo’s chagrin, he’s not allowed to spend much time outside with Captain and Jojo right now. He adores his friends, but they adore running and jumping. However, he really loves all the extra attention he’s getting and enjoyed crawling in bed with Scott and I without being kicked out last night. This morning when Roegen sat down to watch TV the puppy curled up right next to him.

Everything was great until Roegen came running up a few minutes later to tell me “Pablo wants you to turn on Backyardigans.” I hope Pablo realizes that when his recovery is complete he will have no input whatsoever on family television choices.

Life just got busier.

We’re house hunting.

Breydon has summer enrichment activities through the local school.

Jude had a day camp last week.

Roegen and I had colds.

Scott is working.

And, to top things off, Scott totaled our 2nd car last week. Well, Scott didn’t do it, the hit and run deer did.

Needless to say I’m finding that I don’t have enough hours in the day!

To get to our teeny tiny town you have to drive through the neighboring teeny tiny town. And in most worlds, this is okay. You get off the interstate, drive 2 minutes until you’ve passed the first town, and continue on to mine.

In our area, however, you have to watch out for the local police officer. He has a reputation for stopping people for “speeding” where most would believe that the driver was being reasonable. There is a story told that he stopped someone because when they hit the 45 mph sign they accelerated so quickly that according to radar they were at the speed limit before the back of the car crossed the sign. I thought the stories were exaggerated until the day Scott got pulled over. The problem? He was going 32 in a 30 mph zone.

I’m not kidding. My husband got pulled over for going 2 miles per hour over the speed limit. While I like to tease him about his lead foot in residential areas, this was a bit much even for me.
Fortunately, Scott was let off with a warning. He was very apologetic and promised that he’d never go that fast in that area again. While we’re sure that a judge would have dismissed any ticket, the aggravation of having to go to court is one we are happy to avoid.

In the meantime, we now make sure that the speedometer needle is well below the posted speed when we cross into Barney’s area. We see him most days, circling the town looking for an errant motorist. More often than not at some point during the 120 seconds it takes to cross his town we’ll see his lights flash and someone else have to stop.

I wonder if he has any bullets in his gun?

On Sunday, my dad retired. He has been a pastor since one month before I was born, so his retirement is a big change. His occupation has played a large role in my life, not just in a spiritual manner but also in how his job influenced others’ perceptions of me. It also shaped our family, because unlike the families of most of my friends Dad had a work schedule of six days a week – and even on his day off he was on call if someone had a crisis.

Pastors see the best and the worst of people. Pastors’ children aren’t exposed quite as much - my parents did try to shelter me to a certain extent - but I’ll never forget the family dinner which was interrupted because someone I spoke with the day before had a massive heart attack. Or people in tears because a marriage was ending. Or the elderly couple who told me every time they saw me how the time Dad spent with them made them feel that there was someone who loved them. Or weddings I attended because my parents didn’t have a babysitter available.

And yet, no matter how many directions Dad was called by others, he somehow made time for family. For most of my childhood he managed to spend some one-on-one time with my brothers and I on a monthly basis. We loved “going out for cokes” or just getting to tag along while he ran to Dightman’s Bible and Book Store. And during the summer, we spent many happy hours exploring Oregon’s Wallowa Mountains and the area around Enterprise and Joseph along the Lostine River. And there was always fishing - Dad loves fishing.

I’m finding Dad’s retirement difficult to blog about for some reason. It’s not that I don’t have a lot of thoughts about his decision, which I support completely, but that I am finding it challenging to put everything into words that I’d like. Dad’s choice to retire will affect him and my mom more than anyone, but it will be a transition for the entire family. Of course Breydon, Jude, and Roegen don’t care too much – other than saying that Grandpa will have more time to go fishing with them now. He’ll be able to teach his grandsons the same things he taught his children.

Congratulations on your retirement, Dad. I love you. Here’s to many happy years in a quieter role!