All Weddings Need Nigerians

To all you engaged women out there, here is my updated must-have list for your wedding:

1) venues
2) a groom you treasure & love forever (or maybe that should be number 1)
3) a dress that makes you feel like a princess
4) Nigerians

Last weekend, we went to a wonderful wedding of two friends from our chuch that included all of the above. Emily is an A&M graduate and a native Texan so natuarlly we think the world of her. Ndagi (we call him Job) is from Nigeria (not quite Texas but a great place nonetheless) and has the biggest smile and the best laugh of anyone I know. Their ceremony was at our church and seemed more like worship than a wedding. Much of Job's family had flown in from all over the world from places Nigeria, Hungary, and Canada and several of them wore traditional Nigerian dress. The reception was at a beautiful hotel right across the street from my office downtown. Though the elegant ambience was nice and the plated meal quite enjoyable, the best part of the reception by far was the dance party. Young and old were on the dance floor in typical African style, and the wallflowers were definitely the minority. You can see how packed it was:



So now I am thoroughly convinced that if you want your reception dance party to succeed, all you need is Nigerians.

A Shower of Different Sorts

I introduced you to our news friends, the Winds, in our previous post. This past week, several of the ladies from our church planned a shower for sweet Mrs. Rachel Wind. Not a wedding shoer (recall man in goofy hat...that's Mr. Wind) and not a baby shower (recall child on swing and child nearly abducted by goats...those are wee little Winds). You see, since Rachel gave birth to both her little girls overseas, our church family didn't have a chance to throw a shower for her. But since they've been back visiting, she's been long overdue. So we had a kiddie book shower! Since there isn't an English bookstore in her city overseas, her girls' library is a bit sparse. But not anymore!

This is just a few from Rachel's wish list for the shower:

* Richard Scarry's Best Storybook Ever
* Make Way for Ducklings
* Frog & Toad Are Friends
* The Story of Ping
* Curious George
* A Wind in the Willows
* The Little House
* Madeline
* Amelia Bedelia
* Quick As a Cricket
* Little House on the Prairie

I've decided to start collecting children's books of my own. Another premature collection of mine I suppose. Please leave a comment for me and tell me about your favorite children's book.



And a note for Mrs. Wind--I will miss you dearly as you leave, sweet friend. Thank you again for the time you & John have invested in our family over the past few weeks. We treasure you & will be thinking of you as you leave Louisville.

A Dream Realized

We're all familiar with that age-old question that adults seem to always ask little kids: So what do you want to be when you grow up? You can only expect those typical hum-drum answers: a fireman, a ballerina, a teacher, and so on. But not me. I was definitely a lone reed in my dream career path. I wanted to be a farmer's wife. Not a farmer and not a wife but the combination, two-in-one, more-bang-for-your-buck, dynamic duo package: farmer's wife. Most likely I thought it would be fun to wake up early in the morning and milk cows and retrieve chicken eggs. Alas, I'm not a farmer's wife but a seminarian's wife (though I do wake up early and cook eggs every morning.) Yet the dream lives on thanks to Huber's Farm in Starlight, Indiana.



That's right! Just across the Ohio River, a mere thirty minutes from our home, is Huber's Farm where you can pick your own produce and feed farm animals much to your heart's content. Our hearts have obviously been very content as we've been twice in the past month. The first time Kevin & I went, we picked eight pounds of strawberries between the two of us and have since engorged ourselves with lots of smoothies and strawberry ice cream.



Our second visit this past Saturday was with a dear family with whom we've gotten to be quite good friends--the Wind family. The Winds live in East Asia with their two little girls and are involved in the kind of work that we would like to do in the future. They are in the States for six months before heading back over the pond to their overseas home. We have been so encouraged by the time we've been able to spend with them because it's like looking at our own lives fast-forwarded five years.

Our day at the farm with the Winds was quite the adventure. This time Kevin and I had an excuse to do all the kiddie attractions since we were actually with kids!

We made lots of friends that day. Some normal, like sweet Clara Anne (the little girl that is, not the pony):





And some not-so-normal, like Clara Anne's daddy (the man with the fashionable hat this is, not the goat):





Be careful you safe (no, that's not a typo but just Chiner talk in honor of the Winds) for the goats because they will eat your hands and clothing. And their spit is really sticky.



And take caution too that the goats don't steal your baby. I think this one is after Chloe.



So after our fun day at the farm, am I going to abandon my life as a seminary wife in order to seek out my dream of farming splendor? Most likely not. As least if Kevin promises to take me back during blueberry picking season!

Congrats Mrs. Peek!

Congratulations to our very own Mrs. Sarah Peek for her graduation from the University of Washington today. I'm sure no one flips that tassle with as much style as you do. We wish we could have been there, but we're counting down the days until you come here. We love you much!

Nicknames

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.

Replace Romeo for Kevin & myself and you'll have the subject of this evening's Blog post. I'm not really sure why Kevin's dear mother chose his name but I have this habit of discarding it at will for a variety of replacements. Nicknames, if you will. And he does the same for me. Very rarely do we call each other by our given names. Even less rare for me if you consider that Becky in itself is just a variation of my given names. So here, for your Blogging pleasure, is the evolution of our favorite household nicknames:

Woodchip: It started off as an aversion to the traditional pet names of "dear" and "sweetheart." Kevin just decided to choose random nouns and apply them to me until one stuck. And this one did. Weird but can't we just apply the euphemism and call it quirky instead?

Fish: More than once I've been told that my personality reminds people of Dory from "Finding Nemo." Though I'm not sure that's exactly a compliment, I went ahead and borrowed Dory's sing-song mantra during a tough season of life in college: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." You know the tune. (If not, you mind want to consider devoting 90 minutes to Nemo to learn it. You'll thank me later). It's my fighter's song of perseverance. Kevin sings it to me to change my tears to laughter. But even on a daily basis, I'm his wife "Fish."

Mrs. Darcy: Though some may mock us that we enjoy and might even prefer the Kiera Knightly version of "Pride & Prejudice" to the 6 hour saga that is the A&E version, we are much indebted for our newest and most favorite nickname. Let me refresh you of the closing scene:

Mr. Darcy: How are you this evening, my dear?
Elizabeth: Very well. Only I wish you would not call me dear.
Mr. Darcy: Why?
Elizabeth: Because that’s what my father always calls my mother when he’s cross about something.
Mr. Darcy: What endearments am I allowed?
Elizabeth: Well, let me think. Lizzy for everyday. My pearl for Sundays. And Goddess Divine...but only on very special occasions.
Mr. Darcy: And what shall I call you when I’m cross? Mrs. Darcy?
Elizabeth: No. You may only call me Mrs. Darcy when you are completely, perfectly and incandescently happy.
Mr. Darcy: And how are you this evening, Mrs. Darcy? (sweet kiss) Mrs. Darcy? (even sweeter kiss) Mrs. Darcy? (the sweetest of all movie kisses—the kind that make you cry and wish the movie wasn’t ending)

Now both Kevin & I begun addressing one another as Mrs. Darcy around the house. I am Mrs. Darcy to him and he is Mrs. Darcy to me. Usually followed with our very poor British accents describing how incandescently happy we are.

So whether it's Woodchip, Fish, or Mrs. Darcy, do we retain, as Mr. Shakespeare says, our dear perfection that we owe without the title? Well, knowing that our perfection is certainly lacking, maybe if quirkiness is akin to perfection, we can still fit the bill!