I Squished A Slug Tonight

I was stepping outside with two boys in tow, and in bare feet--because of course I go barefoot whenever possible--and the first step ended in an unpleasant sensation. It felt as though I had landed on a very small water balloon. Ick.

"I think I just stepped on a slug."
"Really?" Sean sounded amused. "You know, slugs can go across a razor without hurting themselves. They re-arrange their mucous or something. But worms can't."
"Where do you learn these things?" I asked, slogging through the wet grass and surreptitiously using it to unsmear the sole of my right foot.
"Well, I haven't done the experiments myself, but..."

We trudged through the velvety summer night to my car, unloaded our armfuls of dirty dishes into it, and returned to Mike's house. The Launching Pad was the site, this evening, of a party that Charity and I have been planning for weeks. We threw it for the caregroup, though neither Mike nor Sarah, our illustrious leaders, were there to grace us with their presence. They're both on evangelism trips: Mike in Boston, Sarah in Bolivia.

Mike left the house unlocked, though. Charity and I showed up at 3:30 pm and were soon joined by Brandon, whose job it was to make dessert. He was the only boy allowed in the house before 5:30. I stole marshmallows and chocolate chips from him for the rest of the afternoon, in between the exchange of friendly insults. There's a lot to be said for growing up with people, you know. It creates a sort of familiarity without intimacy which is very pleasant. Now if I could just get Brandon to forgive me for that little incident with the Congress of Vienna reenactment... after all, I was supposed to double-cross him!

Jen and Besilica arrived soon after Brandon, dressed up in ruffled Mexican skirts and white blouses, because the party was Mexico-themed. Charity, the ingenious little thug, had made two piniatas: one for girls and one for boys. The girl one was a milk jug, stuffed with candy and already slashed through in places to make it easier for us. The boy one... ay yi yi! She had taken a two-liter soda bottle and reinforced it--as though it needed reinforcing!--by swaddling the thing in half a spool of post office tape. The boys finally destroyed it by skewering the thing on a sharpened stake, and that was after half an hour of the usual battering! They enjoyed this immensely, so I suppose there's no point in remonstrating with Charity, who enjoyed it even more. She also superglued a horseradish jar lid on, and then asked the boys to open it for her. The little imp had an exact duplicate on hand, and when they couldn't open the first, she switched it with the second behind her back and then twisted off the lid with an innocent, "Oh? It doesn't seem that hard to open."

Brilliant. Evil. Actually, we had rather even numbers of people present--seven or eight guys, and six or seven girls. But it quickly became apparent that three or four of the girls wanted to go off to the basement and play Encore, while the other three or four wanted to play Mafia. Of course, all the guys prefered Mafia, and we had an array of veterans, and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Sean, Chad, Brandon, and Paul are all excellent; I had so much fun just watching the first several rounds. I was too busy keeping the food going to play the first round, and the second I proctored so that all the really good players could play, but the third I was able to join. What a blast! Sean and Paul and Kevin and I were the Mafia. Of course Charity knew I was Mafia right away, but I managed to turn suspicion on her, and then kept if from falling on myself for the rest of the game by demanding, of all things, logic. I insisted on having a reason before I would consent to vote for anybody's death, and so no one suspected that I might have other motives. A scientific mask can be, I found out tonight, splendid cover in a Mafia game.

Peter Schellhase was pretty good at Mafia too. How odd that he is coming to PHC this fall! For, you know, Jacob Hall was in my caregroup when I came to PHC, and now Peter is coming on campus from the same place. I wonder if you can only come to PHC from CLC if you were in Mike's caregroup? Or is it something in the water?

In Mike's caregroup the guys have a protocol of walking girls to their cars, for safety reasons. Tonight, Charity and I had several of them helping to carry out the debris of the party. One was a guest with us from another caregroup.

"It's funny how they talk about marriage," he said to me, musing aloud about our boys. "All the guys in my caregroup are so young, we never hit the subject much."
"Oh, they were all pretty young a year or two ago." I replied, smiling at the memory. "But they've grown up a lot. In another year or so, they'll be ready for marriage."
Alex, walking ahead of us, misheard me. "Oh, Christy! You're ready to get married!"
"I wasn't talking about me, silly!" I laughed. "Besides, I can't get married. I have to stay single and look after all my boys. I can't leave you guys on your own!"

I was joking, but sometimes I think it's true. Tomorrow night I am scheduled to take Danya shopping for his fall wardrobe, at Daddy's behest. There's nothing more fun than having a good-looking guy to buy for, and Davy is just beginning to understand that oxfords can be cool. Hallelujah! He'll be stunning in black, just like his daddy, and if I can find the right yellow or blue...

You've seen me write often about my girls, but let me just take a moment to express appreciation for my boys as well. They are good guys, solid and sweet, helpless as all get-out one moment, then leaders and men the next. I love being their big sister, and I love watching them grow up into Christ.