I used to think that unless I was in hospital, under doctor’s quarantine, incapable of sitting upright or facing uncontrollable bodily fluid spewage, I should be at church meetings on Sundays.

My “excused” absence list is a lot longer these days, and rightfully so.

Today I’m keeping my cold/flu symptoms to myself.

If I attended today, while ill, would I be a disruptive influence? Probably no more than usual. Increased coughing with fewer participatory comments–balances out in the end for most, I’m sure. Hymns aren’t heard well in the foyer and I stopped singing out loud in Relief Society quite some time ago, so my vocal status wouldn’t affect much there either. I could be there, miserable as quietly as possible, and it could seem like any other week, really. Except for the person who inhales at the wrong time, or the child who doesn’t wash up… those germs would make themselves known, even as I did my best to fade into the background.

Knowing that no one else is ill because of contact with me, that’s priceless.

And now back to my day of rest.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my dear reader, I give you: 11 Random Details!

After reading Kandice’s Behind the Scenes a few weeks ago, I thought “I should copy that concept of expounding extra photo details to use over here at the Kazoo”. And it was such a good idea that it went the way of nearly all good ideas in my life and sat untouched for some time. I suppose it finally found its way and came crawling out of that cerebral undergrowth today. Unfortunately, it seems to have dragged a lot of randomness with it.

Enough exposition, on with the show!

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We discovered a solution to our leaf situation that works much better than raking the rocks in the front yard.

In this pic from a session last month, Elena demonstrates the ease with which a small canister vacuum can be a low power leaf blower. It’s light enough that even she can carry it around, aiming the wand to gently push the leaves (and not the gravel) to the driveway.

Once blown onto the cement, the broom crew steps into action.

Anya loves helping and this picture shows you the perfect utilization of both her petite stature and her fondness for dumping things. Anya’s aim was pretty good, too.

Perhaps it’s the relative novelty of yardwork (we can go weeks without touching anything besides litter), but our children enjoy leaf clean up like no other chore I can recall. Cheanna expressed her disappointment earlier in the week at having to wait until Saturday to work on it.

The lighting here hasn’t been touched up (just the plate, honest). I have to admit it captures the radiant joy more than a better exposure probably would have.

What better way to celebrate than by traipsing down memory lane? Er, what’s that, Mr. Peabody? Nothing beats bad teenage poetry? Set the WABAC for 1993? Done and done!

These gems were uncovered as I sifted through a memory box this evening. Fifteen years later, would you believe, dear reader, that Google currently has no search results matching either “undergrowth of the cerebral plane” or “heart unchained into slavery”? Rock on, 16-year-old me!