(What the kids did comes at about 2:04. Thanks, by the way, Mr. Deitch, for such a fine visual to use with my post.)
I got a call from Michelle shortly before 5 pm yesterday. When I picked up the phone, she was using that voice that meant she was mad. Mad. I was quickly relieved to find out I was not the one she was mad about. But then I, also, had to put on the mad face.
The boys broke the recliner. As far as we can tell, the ten-year-old tried to catapult the five-year-old off the chair. Something went snappo. This morning, I tried to fix it. Not being an expert on recliner repair, I gave up quickly after putting just a single screw back in place. I didn't want to risk breaking anything else.
Now, I know we didn't just suffer an earthquake or have to dig any loved ones out of the rubble. Relatively speaking, this is a non-disaster. So don't get all preachy on me.
It'll cost us, at least at this point, $65 to fix. The part, inexplicably, was still under warranty, even after I explained how the chair got broken in the first place. That tells me this is a labor-intensive job and that the part, while all metally and complicated, is cheap to manufacture. Oh well. At least that's a sop the furniture store can throw our way. I'll take whatever sop I can get at this point. And since the boys broke the chair, they're going to pay for it through their allowance money. Too bad. They were so close to getting that Lego "Jungle Cutter." Whatever that is.
I'm just tired of thing breaking. Earlier this week I sat in my desk chair at home and one of the wheels went snap. What else is going to happen? I just hope I don't break the chair I'm sitting in now -- one of the little chairs from the kids' writing table. It sits about a foot off the ground, so I'm squatting at the keyboard right now, typing like a madman.
This is, by the way, my 1,000th post. Not an auspicious one by any means, but still it's a meaningless round-number milestone that must be marked with some kind of celebration. So I might go make a quesadilla for lunch.
Indy and Harry
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Indiana Jone...
Here at the End of All Things
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And another book blog is complete.
Oh, Louis Untermeyer includes a final collection of little bits -- several
pages of insults -- but they're nothing I hav...
Here at the End of All Things
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I’ve pondered this entry for a while now. Thought about recapping my
favorite Cokesbury Party Blog moments. Holding a contest to see which book
to roast he...
Christmas Box Miracle, The; by Richard Paul Evans. 261 pages.
Morbid Tase for Bones, A; by Ellis Peters. 265 pages.
There's Treasure Everywhere, by Bill Watterson. 173 pages.
Read in 2025
Adventures of Uncle Lubin, The; by W. Heath Robinson. 119 pages.
AI Superpowers: China, Silicon Valley, and the New World Order, by Kai-Fu Lee. 254 pages.
Book of Boy, The; by Catherine Gilbert Murdock. 271 pages.
Book of Mormon, The; The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 535 pages.
Child's Garden of Verses, A; by Robert Louis Stevenson and illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. 105 pages.
Creativity: A Short and Cheerful Guide, by John Cleese. 103 pages.
Dave Bartry's Only Travel Guide You'll Ever Need, by Dave Barry. 171 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid Hot Mess, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Fall of Richard Nixon, The; A Reporter Remembers Watergate, by Tom Brokaw. 227 pages.
God's Smuggler, by Brother Andrew and John and Elizabeth Sherill. 241 pages.
Going Postal, by Terry Pratchett. 377 pages.
Leper of St. Giles, The; by Ellis Peters. 265 pages.
Lincoln at Gettysburg, by Garry Wills. 320 pages.
Outrage Machine, by Tobias Rose-Stockwell. 388 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade, the 1970s; by Charles Schulz. 530 pages
Politically, Fashionably, and Aerodynamically Incorrect: The First Outland Collection, by Berkeley Breathed. 128 pages.
Quiet: The Power of Introverts in A World that Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain. 352 pages.
Raising Steam, by Terry Pratchett. 365 pages.
Rakkety Tam, by Brian Jacques. 371 pages.
Reflections of A Scientist, by Henry Eyring. 101 pages.
Rickover Effect, The; by Theodore Rockwell. 438 pages.
Road to Freedom, The; by Shawn Pollock. 212 pages.
Rocket Men, by Craig Nelson. 404 pages.
Trolls of Wall Street, The; by Nathaniel Popper. 341 pages.
Undaunted Courage: Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson, and the Opening of the American West; by Stephen E. Ambrose. 521 pages.
Why Things Go Wrong, by Laurence J. Peter. 207 pages.
Ze Page Total: 7,511
The Best Part
God's Smuggler, by Brother Andrew and and John and Elizabeth Sherill.
(Andrew and his wife Corrie have just consented to sell their home in Holland for the equivalent of $15,000 so they can purchase 5,000 pocket bibles in Russian for distribution to the faithful in Russia.)
[A phone call] For it was from the Dutch Bible Society, asking me if I could arrange to have the printing done somewhere else.
I had? In England! Well, here is what they proposed. They would pay half the cost. If the Bibles cost $3 each to print, I could purchase them for $1.50. And although the Society would pay for the entire printing as soon as it was ready, I would need to pay for my supplies only as I used them. If this was satisfactory --
If it was satisfactory! I could scarcely believe what I had heard. I could be able to buy six hundred Bibles -- all we could carry at one time -- right away out of our "Russian Bible" fund. And we wouldn't have to leave our home, and Corrie could go on sewing the pink curtains for Steffie's room, and I could set out my lettuce flats and -- I could hardly wait to tell Corrie what God had done with the thimbleful of willingness we had offered Him.
Sure. Chalk it up to coincidence all you want. But God does work in mysterious ways, and recognizes the gift of sacrifice.
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