“Remark to this, Whittaker Walt.”*

by chuckofish

I took Friday afternoon off and had a picnic with my two pals in Laumeier Park and started off the weekend on a fine note. Daughter #1 arrived in town in time for a beer on the patio.

Then we listened to the 2-record Henry Mancini set she found at an estate sale. Life in the fast lane, man.

We enjoyed a pretty mellow weekend, the highlight of which was a visit from the wee babes who shrieked with delight at the prospect of a play date with their aunt.

On Saturday we had unearthed more treasures from our basement cache of vintage toys, which included a lot more Beanie Babies…

(A pyramid of doggies care of Lottie)

…and myriad other 1990s treats…

The wee laddie preferred to play with his old favorites, “my Cooper” in particular…

although he did climb into the doll crib for a pretend nap.

There is never a dull moment when these monkeys are around.

We FaceTimed with the newest wee babe and her Mommy.

We mused that she really does bear a striking resemblance to her great great grandfather ANC Jr…

Aren’t genes fascinating?

After daughter #1 returned to mid-MO on Sunday, I repotted some plants and caught up with daughter #2. I read some more Lovejoy (I’m on my third mystery.) I tidied up and got my mind set for the work week.

Here are some good words from the Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier to start your week:

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways!
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

In simple trust like theirs who heard
Beside the Syrian sea
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word
Rise up and follow Thee.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity
Interpreted by love!

With that deep hush subduing all
Our words and works that drown
The tender whisper of Thy call,
As noiseless let Thy blessing fall
As fell Thy manna down.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.

*Alan Arkin in The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming (1966)–an hilarious movie which I highly recommend watching.