I recently read an article wherein the author attempted to establish definitions for pain and suffering as different entities.

I don't think his definitions were accurate or helpful, but it was an interesting thought exercise for me nonetheless.  Have you ever noticed how, at least in legal, political, philosophical, and theological discussions, the two tend to travel together?  They are conjoined twins--virtually indistinguishable and all but inseparable.

"The plaintiff sought unspecified damages for medical costs, lost wages, and pain and suffering."
"Divine benevolence is hard to reconcile with the human experience of pain and suffering."
"Stoics sought to train themselves to respond to pain and suffering with equanimity."
"The pain and suffering of the people of Myanmar must call forth acts of mercy and compassion."

Although I understand conceptually that the two are different entities, I don't often run across situations where their difference is highlighted.  Perhaps only when someone is suffering from a non-physical (or not strictly physical) ailment is the difference really apparent.

"Well, the injuries from the attack are all healed, but he's still suffering."
"A mama suffers just as much as her baby when he's in pain."
"Is he in pain?" "No, but it's very hard on him to be confined to a wheelchair.  He's really suffering."

I'm stymied to think of the reverse, however.  "Yes, he's in a lot of pain, but he isn't really suffering."  Maybe because I've never suffered any pain worse than a toothache (and that was a doozy!), I can't imagine bearing physical pain without suffering the pain.

Have you ever thought about the difference between pain and suffering?  Have you ever experienced one without the other?

Isaac had a presentation at his homeschool tutorial class yesterday.  He was supposed to pick a historical figure from the time periods they had studied over the year, prepare several facts to "quiz" the audience on, and come dressed as that figure.

He did a terrific job.

He spoke clearly, loudly, and comfortably.  No mumbling, feet shuffling, fidgeting, or head-ducking.  We didn't even have to practice it.  He just got up there and did it.

You can hear his two questions here (at least, those parts where Theo wasn't squealing):

Didn't he do a great job?

Stephen and I did a great job on the costume.  Stephen went to the fabric store (no, really, he absolutely did) and spent about five bucks.  He brought the stuff home and I spent about five minutes cutting a hole in the fabric and tying things in helpful ways.  Isaac remembered an art project from earlier in the year that would go.

And walla!



Squanto, in the flesh!

They also had an art show.  The kids painted a self-portrait, a portrait of a friend, and a landscape.  They also did masks from a Native American tribe I've now forgotten.  Was it Cherokee?  Anyway, here's his:



Very impressive, eh?  This is one of the reasons I like his tutorial class.  There is no. way. on. earth. Stephen and I could help him with art.  Zero.

Things are looking perkier and perkier in the garden this week.

My mini roses are now in bloom, having survived the merciless destruction last summer that came from certain basketballers not noticing that there were plants in my garden.





The lavender one is my favorite.  I really want a lavender standard-sized rose, but I haven't yet found one that has a good, strong fragrance.

My full-sized roses are blooming like crazy.



I can't seem to get a good picture of this bed--I don't really know enough about photography.  Any suggestions?  How do I get a picture that shows how floriferous these roses are, but still looks interesting and . . . interesting?

My pinks are going gang-busters, too.



I want lots more of these.  I only bought three, because that's all the cash I could bear to part with, but I think they'd look really pretty lining the driveway.  What do you think?



I have some annual pinks there toward the bottom left, and the perennial ones are up in the top left.  They'd look pretty coming all the way down, I think.  Maybe I'll get more next spring.

The flowers aren't the only thing flowering around here.  My peas are in bloom, and I even have a few pods.  Yay!  Just enough to add a little something to my stir-fry tomorrow.



My arugula is blooming too, but that's not good news.  I had to pull a bunch of it out.  But that just made room for the Swiss Chard that I'm putting in its place!

Our freezer is pleasantly full of things we did not buy.

I don't know whether it stems from pity (grad student poverty-lite) or fear (are we feeding the grandkids properly?), but every time they or we visit, my mom and my mother-in-law make contributions to our diet.  The most recent influx of foodie goodness was over the weekend of Theo's baptism.  Both grandmommies were there at the same time, so my freezer was bursting: shrimp, scallops, steak, scrapple, more steak, mussels, ground beef, ground chicken, and a little bit more steak.

(You can tell which food group they think we're most deficient in.)

Mom C makes fun of my propensity to ration these generous contributions.  ("Did you let Stephen have any meat this week?"  "Yes, we split one steak among the three of us.")  But I like how my judicious use of these dietary indulgences keeps us in Thanking-Mom mode for weeks at a time.  Since Theo's baptism, I've used something from one of the grandmothers at least a dozen times.  And every time, I say, "Hey, this is the _______ that Mimi (or Grandmom) left us!"  And the boys all say, "I love Mimi (or Grandmom)."

Mom C left us just a smidgen of shrimp, which became shrimp and artichoke pizza (for company even!), a full serving of scallops, which was asparagus-scallop stir-fry last night and will be spicy seafood pasta some time next week, two big London broils, half of one of which will be grilled tonight and the other half of which played a starring role in a stir-fry two weeks ago.  The organic chicken was particularly tasty as roast chicken one night ("No, you cannot have seconds on the chicken.  Have some more green beans."), barbecue chicken pizza the next, and chicken lo mein three days after that.

Mom S left us scrapple, which I cannot manage to stretch or ration no matter how I try (if anyone knows of a scrapple-eating contest, let me know, because Isaac could win it in his sleep), some steaks, one of which became beef-and-mushroom stroganoff, and some chili, on which Isaac commented at my failure to stretch into two meals.  ("C'mon, mom, why didn't you add more beans and stretch this over two nights?"  "Kid, do you really want to bring this up before you get seconds?")

Mom S also left us carcasses.  Stephen makes fun of my propensity to get excited about bones.  In fact, I believe he even tried to bar me from accepting or soliciting carcasses in the future, and he's threatened to refuse to transport them across state lines.  (We usually visit Mom S in Virginia.)  But with the two ham carcasses Mom S left us, I've made lentil soup, ham risotto, black beans and rice, and potato soup with ham broth and a wee bit of bacon on top.  AND I still have about ten cups of ham broth left.

I didn't notice him complaining any of those nights.

Progress on works in progress this week has been reasonable, but not impressive.

I have finished the bamboo baby blankie.



I'm really pleased with how it turned out.  It was a very simple pattern--stockinette, with regular increases every other round.  (You mathematicians can tell me why increasing ten stitches every other round creates a circle.  You can also tell me what shape it is when you accidentally increase twenty stitches every other round.  Some sort of three-dimensional something that looks like it should have a proper name.)  You could use it with any yarn, really--gauge doesn't matter one whit.  You just keep knitting until you feel like stopping.  (Or until you run out of yarn.)

When I felt like stopping (and when I was running out of yarn), I added a decorative border:



It looks pretty, but not feminine.  Which is good, because I don't know which baby this is going to yet.  I suddenly have lots to choose from!!!

I still have to wash and block it, though.  I think it'll get a little bigger, and I may even turn it into a decagon rather than a circle.  Having just looked up the mathematical formula for the area of a decagon, I hereby declare that you mathematicians can't tell me anything about decagons.  Holy frackazoid.  If you try, I'm going to start talking about the difference between substance and persona.

I also finished one Jitterbug sock.



It's an alternating rib-twisted stitch pattern.  Toe-up, with short-row toes and heels.  As I said before, I love, love, love the yarn.  My real camera isn't any better than my computer camera, evidently.  I'm telling you, it glows.  Like stained glass windows.

I'm keeping these socks for myself.  Just so's you don't get hopeful.