J. Jonah Casanova ('s son)

Jonah in Venetian Casanova mask: evermore apropos.

Update: Day 18

(The following is unprovoked, unsolicited, and unedited. This is life with an extroverted, deeply smitten, completely unself-conscious almost 5-year-old.)

"When I get big, I'm going to marry Hazel."
"Oh really? Why?"
"Because I love her."
"How do you know when you love someone?"
"I just know."
"Why do you love her?"
"Because she is beautiful. She is so beautiful. And she's cool. She's really cool."
"Huh. What makes her beautiful?"
"Cuz she's beautiful. That's all."

Can't argue with that, I guess. All I know is we're in real trouble. When this kid gets, you know, hormones in his system, look out. We may have to use restraints and/or surveillance equipment.

Ramadan Roundup

Alright, some random newsy/funny stuff as Ramadan comes to a whingeing halt (like worn brake pads, so the final days of the Holy Month screech their way to a full and gristly stop). Pics are iPhonies, so keep the criticism to yourselves, ec.

Chapter 1: Jonah in Love



As you will recall from an earlier post, Jonah is now a bona fide schoolboy. And he also has developed his first bona fide schoolboy crush. Her name is Hazel, and she makes him feel all funny inside.

Day 3: "That's my friend Hazel. Hi, Hazel! She's the best girl in the world, Dad."
Day 11: "Hazel tried to kiss me today."
"Oh yeah? What did you do?"
"I leaned way way back so she couldn't reach me." (And apparently grinned like a tomfool the whole time.)
Day 15: "Mom, Hazel told me that next year she's going to be a woman, so she'll be able to get married."
Day 16: "How was your day, Bud?"
"It was good. Hazel made me love her."
"Really? How did she do that?"
"She kissed me again and I jumped up in the air and was like all spinning around. So I decided to love her."

Ay caramba.


Chapter 2: Flirting with Disaster

All these newbies rushing around to furniture stores had us a bit nostalgic, so we went back to IKEA for a look-see. It was like we'd never moved out . . .





Come to think of it, we got some of our best work done there last year . . .


Chapter 3: New Digs? We dig!



Candidate for the new building. Fits the bill. We're working on it. Large chapelly salon, 5 additional bedrooms plus upstairs commons. Similar to what we're in now. tentative approval given.


Chapter 4: Misery loveth company.

We've had a number of move-ins to our little branch this summer. Two have yet to arrive, but one includes two young men, ages 12 and almost 16. So as of February we'll have 4 YMs, including a P, an almost T, and two Ds, as well as a YW. Whole new ball game.





Chapter 5: New kiddies on the block continued



At rear: sister to the new YM, and button-cute. She's Jo's age, and they're becoming fast friends.
At fore: possibly the cutest smile ever. There's a whole lotta shakin' goin' on chez LDS all of a sudden. We hope the prodigals make another showing, so by our count we would have as follows:

Nursery: 3
Primary: 5
YW: 1
YM: 4
Biggies: 19


Postscript: It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's an incredibly annoying voiceover by a British journalist who apparently had the wrong kind of tea and is out of sorts, but trying to fake enthusiasm, and consequently drains us of what little we had. Props for the "white cliffs of dover." Arnold would be pleased.



You go, Icarus Boy! Buzz Lightyear ain't got nothin' on you, dawg. It's the crazies that make the world go round, then fall over, explode, and do a raspberry. And who doesn't like a raspberry? Huh? Huh? You know you do!

Some famous Romans we know

Here.

Dalila and Riccardo, in particular. Riccardo is nearly ready for advancement. Dalila continues to break hearts: her elder brother, Jonathan (no, not named for me) is serving in Paris. Davide Bosco was, as I recall, called on a mission while we were there.

Good kids. Good families. Makes me wanna tear up.

All quiet on the Middle Eastern Front

Hiya, folks.

Not much going on here at present: kids are in school, Jon's at work, Wendy's in post-kid rehab. The usual.

The earthquake off the coast of Iran apparently rattled some cages in Dubai and Abu Dhabi: buildings more than 10 stories high were evacuated as a precaution, but nothing happened. The attack on the US Embassy in Yemen was 24 hours away by car (Sherry's estimate), and do not in any direct way impact us here. So don't worry about us.

Oh, good news on the LDS front: some new members, including a couple of families, have broadened the base and brightened the hopes. Still looking for a new seat: some good leads last week. Will keep you posted.

Here's a cool thing: we've seen the like of this before, but I dig the way this guy rolls. And overall, I'd say the years have been relatively kind.

Guy Photographs Himself Every Day For 17 Years | Viral | SPIKE.com

Also, some verse to mystify, and mebbe delight. Don't hurt yourselves.

Poetry


Poetry isn’t just
Assigning colours to things:

To say “pink expectation”
(Though the marriage

Suggests the flush along
The neck and cheekbones

Of a young heart
Looking for its lover).

It isn’t just
The parsing of a glimpse

Or feeling into figure,
The making of a shape.

It is the intersect
Of these things and

Of rhythm, the purblind
Consternation of the grammar

Of the mind, the languid,
Seasalt tripping of the tongue

In licking waves
And airborne keening songs.



Os Iris
(for Iris Murdoch)

Hale priestess, limber in tendon and synapse,
Loose of tongue and loose of clacking finger,
Unkempt and unkept by will or will,
You clambered down the ditches and the wells
Of human thought, and brought us back the skulls
Of clowns and princes, dense with soil still,
As if the fertile brains of them could linger
Or death were just imagination’s lapse.

And then you left, your memory grown faint from feint
And with that memory all sane restraint.
You left a something richer, shorn of cover,
Bare and naked as an angry lover,
Your failing brain and tongue a revelation
Of the black, fragile soil of our condition:
The dilemma that awaits all kings and clowns.
Dear Iris, how we miss your trembling bones.



Have a good week. We'll get into some trouble on our end so we have something interesting to post about.

Peace out.

And then there were three . . .

Back at AAESS for more punishment. Jonah is in "Reception," which is otherwise known as "KG2" or "pre-school." We're looking into having him join his peers in Year 1. Updates to follow.



Christopher is in Year 7 (grade 6), and Riley is in Year 9 (grade 8). It will be interesting to have both in junior high. If they stay in the British system, R will graduate at 17, with the option of a university freshman year afterwards. I think we'll just send him to a real U at that point.

J and "Ms" Rena. All female teachers are "Ms," regardless of marital status. She's a Canuck.



And his mugshot. Wendy "volunteered" to take one of each student in his class for the teach. That's what you get for hanging around and snapping pictures on the first day. I say push 'em out the door as you drive by, slowly. How else is a kid gonna learn to tuck and roll?



So the house is quiet much of the day, which is good. But she gets lonely. Funny what you miss. . . .