Love:Love

True Confession: It is rare for me to be "hit on" these days. I tell myself it is the result of either: (1) My cling-on children (2) Perennial pregnancy or (3) A hot husband. So, cue the scene with the guy from the gym. Granted, he arguably resembled a hobbit (short and very hairy) and plays the air guitar between lifting sets.  Yet, when he flattered me with a vain compliment, I took it to the bank... which was Jason- who seemed not in the least bit concerned.  Sigh.  Such is the depth of his confidence in my love or (more realistically) that hobbits with air guitars hold little appeal. They are -however- interesting tales for my blog (and maybe a Lifetime movie where my character is played by a younger Catherine Zeta-Jones).   

Meanwhile, Eowyn and I have taken up tennis-since everyone knows that Republicans play tennis. Perhaps our foray onto the court was just a foregone conclusion.  However, what was not a foregone conclusion was our respective skill level- or lack thereof.  Just in case you think the deprecation is gratuitous, permit this anecdote: during my very first lesson with middle-aged "beginners," I fell and bloodied my knee and almost cried. Meanwhile, on the adjacent court, my daughter won an award for "ball pick-up." Read: No Skill Necessary. She was thrilled. I was mortified. Such is the cynicism of adulthood.

 

What I can do with respectable aplomb is host events.   Were it a competitive sport, Eowyn's annual Valentine's soiree might help redeem our abashed tennis deficiency. Might. This year, the setting for the occasion was poolside by the Peninsula- a lovely alliterative descriptor that does justice to the venue. Fifteen girls and two reluctant brothers attended this vibrant celebration of love to decorate sugar cookies, dispense Valentines, and consume saccharine delights.  And with the much celebrated arrival of the vino and Mai Tais, the parent's were able to muddle through the revelry as well (wink-wink).

As a Valentine's gift, Eowyn received an ESV Children's Bible- where she can now read the most accurate version all by herself (emphasis noted). Her profound intellectual and spiritual curiosity continue to amaze. Moreover, Kincaid has finally begun to pray with earnest sincerity, even conceding that God is creator -a distinct change from "I made the moon! I made the birds!" He has far to go. But so do I. I am fairly confident that my neighbors within earshot have nicknamed me "the Shrieking Shrew." Fair assessment many days- if I am honest. Yet that is the divine Valentine- the extension of mercy and love without merit. And confidence in this truth makes even the flattery of bench-pressing hobbits seem superfluous.