the hermans

I will add my voice to the clamor (yes, Melissa, you all by yourself can clamor) and say that it is time to reinstate the Herman blog. We have added a member in the last month. Yeay Amy! And one of our number now lives on the very edge of the known world, far away from familial care and heckling. So lets do this. Gentlemen, you have been challenged to a duel of words. If you have forgotten the password, you need only humble yourself and ask. And of course, Mother can overcome her terror of first impressions and introduce herself.

For now, I would simply like to share a few happy and crappy thoughts:

Crappy:
Melissa is far away. I saw a woman walk into church last Sunday with a black top and a cute black and white skirt. She had short blonde hair. She was smiling. I thought, "Melissa!" And then I remembered and was sad, sad, sad.

I'm huge. I think I'm as big now as I was at 7 months with Addison. We have a long way to go, baby. . . Surely I am imagining this. Surely my belly is only holding one child. surely.

Happy:
I felt the baby kick the guitar several times last Sunday. It made me smile during prayer.

Jay and Liz survived the long hike up Long's Peak! I'm so proud of Liz I feel like her mother.

My brothers and their wives live within 5 feet and 5 blocks of me. :) This is glorious.

Your lack of posting is making me look a little bit desperate. You do realize that this is my third post in a row and that the last time someone other than myself posted was in MAY. Need I remind you that the whole herman conversation was Mrs Davy's idea. And then Mr Taylor-the-younger begged and whined until we included him. And I seem to remember that our revered Mother spent many months wheedling until I gave her unhindered access and yet she has never yet taken advantage of her free voice. Now it seems as though you have grown tired of our conversation. So be it. I will just continue this one sided monologue; I have never yet grown tired of the sound of my own chatter. If nothing else, I could take a true filibustering stand and just copy down an entire recipe book or transcribe the next State of the Union address. Just see if I won't.

...that after I post everything grinds down to an excruciating halt? First it was that super awkward Wonder Woman picture and now it is that scathing diatribe. Did I win the posting contest Jay recommended because mine was the last? And can someone please say something? If this persists then I am going to go behind everyone's back and give Mom the password just so that we can have consistent postings. I hate that it has come down to this, but you force my hand.

I worked for roughly thirteen straight hours. This will have to pose for my excuse when I say the following: Jay. I love you. But I only caught about one in three words that you wrote. My muzzy brain tells me that you said something about living in the Davy's basement. I am certain that another reading of the same passage with a few hours of sleep under my proverbial belt (or perhaps my head would be a more appropriate body part in this particular situation) will bring all things into the proverbial light.

That being said. Again, I beg your collective patience because my not-very-impressive tact has decreased at a proportional rate to my increased exhaustion. Mother: unless I am wrong, and I am never wrong (shout out to Prince Humperdinck), you, although as of yet only a spectator, are, shall we say, emotionally invested in this blog. (I apologize for the absurd amount of commas in the previous sentence.) Would your aforementioned attachment cause you to put into print what you have so often commented upon audibly? Namely: the at times lengthy pauses between posts? For if there is one thing that interferes with the continuity of a conversation it is the interjection that calls to attention the very fact that one or more of the parties involved has lapsed into silence. Until that point, it ought to be assumed for the sake of appearances that they are simply phrasing the nature of their reply very carefully within the silence of their own minds. However, if you can with some confidence promise to curb your impatience and limit your coercive tendencies in regards to this small matter, then I, for one, would not object to allowing you to pose as an ersatz herman. I may condescend so far as to whisper our secret password into your ear.

On the radar at this point is a well-written, heart-felt plea from a Mother who longs to connect in a more con-text-ual way with her offspring. It should be considered by all and then voted upon. If any single person is against the idea, that seems grounds enough to drop the issue, as this is a place where all hermans need to feel centered and at peace. If anyone has a better idea in regards to this topic, please do not hold back.

Second, the question asked innumerable times by all has finally been given a pseudo-final answer. Baun posed a legitimate question regarding approximate percentages of likelihood that the Mexican faction of the Herman clan would relocate to the lower level of his domicile. In response, the percentage of 2.5 and 90 was given in favor of the basement - contingent on the allocation of jobs, with the explicit understanding that it was our aim and desire to find permanent abode in the walls of said lower level.

Third, my wife is hungry.

It is April 6th. In exactly thirty days and roughly four hours I will be in Omaha. I will be wearing a pretty dress and ravishing heels. I will be sitting in the company of dear friends and I will be having my ears treated to untold delights. Wicked is coming to town! After years of speculation and rumors, it is finally happening. And I will be there. Opening night. Balcony. Second row. Middle-ish. Too good to true.

Until then (and especially after then) you will have to bear with me. I will be singing scraps of the musical and it will probably rival the rediculousness that occurred during Jay and Liz's wedding between Laura and me (or is it me? I confess I have become increasingly anxious about my grammar since Jay decided to become a spelling-and-syntax-nazi.)

PS: I took the liberty and went back through our oldest posts and assigned userpics to the appropriate postees. This will hopefully cut down on confusion when people are introduced to our blog and read from the beginning on.

excuse me. I hate to be harping on what may appear to be details. Herman. Did you not recently post about pollo loco? Did you not, with very little compassion for my sun-craved soul, describe a scene in which perfectly seasoned chicken is eaten in the land of my birth? I can't stand this sudden rash of expulsive language.

On another note, Ben and I were making plans for the plot across the street from us. See how this strikes you: Our porches could be across the street from each other. You could plant a garden, build a 4 car garage (so we could share it with you!), design your own child friendly domicile, bring us french press coffee in the mornings. Just sit on that mental picture for a while.

Due to poor grammar and the fact that you wrote a post that made me want to move to Nebraska more than just about ANYTHING, I've made the difficult and unpopular decision to vote you, the uncouth one, off "The Hermans." It was a unanimous vote of one, and unless you write a depressing counterpart to balance the tables that are currently completely in favor of Lincoln, I will have to make this decision permanent in the annals of blogosphere.

One should always take time out of one's busy life to stop, smell the roses, and spend one entire afternoon/evening/night/next morning over-indulging in food and decadence ;) For those whose interest is now peaked...I am referring to what my day yesterday entailed. You all have heard of wine and cheese night. I last enjoyed that in November with Amy at the, then, soon-to-be Beran household. Upon completion of that evening of enjoyment, the four of us realized that we really needed to do it again. Life, in the form of weddings and trips and schedule, got in the way :( Finally, a night was agreed upon. The event was put into everyone's daily planners, and care was taken to ensure that NOTHING would prevent us from completing the new wine and cheese night...and the night grew from there.

Last time, we started off the night with smoking cigars, while sipping scotch. From there, we headed inside to the fire place where Jan's couches were set up in front of his fire place and the night started in earnest. Three kinds of wine, paired with four different cheeses, put all of us out for the count in front of a roaring fire. The next morning, we all woke up when we needed too, and continued on our day :)

Instead of telling how the night grew into being, I will just describe to you the end result. On Wednesday, I dropped off two KC Strip steaks for Jan to do a marinade for. 'MY' two steaks were kept and thawed for one of my signature rubs :) Me and Amy showed up at the Beran residence around five in the afternoon, and we got the grill going. The reason for the steaks was me and Jan had been bragging about our steak preparation techniques, so we decided to do a "steak-off." Best thing about an event like this, is that there are NO losers...because it is ALL good. I don't know what Jan put in his marinade, but my rub consisted of a slap-dash of the following spices: jamaican allspice, garlic salt, onion salt, paprika, lemon juice, sage, and Tony's seasoning. Five hours of sitting in that set-up ensured a thoroughly seasoned steak. When done, all four steaks could be cut with a butter knife, and you could have gotten by with just using a fork. So, the steaks went down with a healthy lubrication of a full bottle of wine split by the four of us.

Next up was the scotch with cigars (I smoked my pipe). From there we went inside, started the fire, cut up the cheese, uncorked another bottle of wine, and got the chocolate fondue going :) For those interested, the fondue was made of german chocolate, butter, and Kalua (so even the lactard of the group need not fear it) The dippers were fresh strawberries, bananas, and marshmallows. Once the fondue was consumed, we all got comfortable on the couches, and talked for a bit while sipping on wine and eating three VERY good cheeses with two kinds of Triscuits. As the need arose, we fell asleep one by one.

Fast forward almost ten hours, and we all drag ourselves out of slumber, make up a hearty breakfast of eggs, orange juice, and fried potatoes...as well as an extra strong dose of french-press coffee :) As you can see...decadence and over-indulgence abounded yesterday. But it was EXACTLY what the doctor ordered. This weekend was so relaxing, so needed, and so perfect, that I am already eagerly anticipating the next time that it can occur :) I hope you all aren't too jealous...that your mouths are completely salivating...and that perhaps you all will be able to join in the next time :D

For those of you unable to enjoy a savory pollo asado on this lovely Sunday, I felt I should permit you the opportunity to live vicariously through me. I recently came upon a ridiculous sum of money in the form of sixty pesos, bequeathed by an over-zealous, under-appreciated, and over-forgetful guitar student, who, after agreeing upon a formidable arrangement whereupon he, being over, under, and over as stated earlier, will raise the previously decided upon price of 50 pesos per guitar lesson to a much more agreeable 60 pesos upon his inability to remember to pay me after said lesson. (Is it apparent yet that I am in the middle of a Dickens novel?) To not belabor the point, I found myself over paid for the third week in a row, and on this blessed Sunday, in the parking lot of Soriana, I chanced upon a friendly man in an apron of bright orange, holding a chicken of dark brown, recently spiced, grilled, and smoked to perfection as is the custom in these parts of the world, for the price of 7 and 50 pesos complete with tortillas recien hechos, cebollas asadas, y jalapenos. Viva Mexico!

It is a hair past 9pm on a Saturday night and I am on my way to blissful slumber. To answer the question that inevitably arises after a statement such as this: No. I am not afflicted with old age nor have I suddenly joined the ranks of those who cannot maintain cognizance after the sun goes down. Rather, I am recouping after a ludicrous Friday. We at House Wonderland stayed up until 4am dancing with foreign students. It was crazy. It was fun. It was crazy fun.

When reading the last two posts, I feel overwhelmingly blessed. I have to admit that it is a desire of mine to let baby Taylors grow up with baby Davys, specially those that are musically talented and pre-ambulating so well. We appreciate the prayers, we love the fact that you want us, and we will hopefully have an answer before you arrive on our doorstep in Mexico. :) Speaking of Mexico, we had a unique experience today.

While sitting in our weekly staff meeting at Binimea, the topic of 24 hour evacuation procedures was encroached. We thought it was a joke at first, but violence and turmoil are rising so fast that the field committee is planning for the possibility of a mass and rapid exodus. It was so surprising that we had to laugh it off. Questions of "who will remove the computer hard-drives" and "who will watch the children that aren't picked up by parents" were approached, and I made sure the big bucket of highly dangerous and toxic acid would be taken care of.

Ultimately, we are loving our experience down here, but it is hair-raising, and once-in-a-lifetime. We love you guys.

P.S. where is Ben? and Baun? and Liz?

Mel, I'm awfully glad that you enjoy being with us. . . I had begun to wonder if our relational capital with you was sufficient to delay the inevitable sentiments of usury that arise when one's presence is requested too often. :) You are an immeasurable blessing to me and I LOVE it when you are around. And it was pretty great to have Addie singing with me! :) That was by far the longest time that she has "harmonized." I'm confident that pitch is a little beyond her development right now. . . but one can hope. :)

In response to the conclusion of your post, i can only say I concur. I would understand completely if Jay and Liz decide to start their family close to Liz's family . . . but little Taylors running around (blessed by Liz's impeccable genes) would make joy complete! And Jay and Liz (perhaps we can call you collectively "Zij")here is my prayer for you this morning:

"Heavenly Father, Your will brings freedom and joy, the untold peace of Your going with us. I pray that for Jay and Liz. I pray that you would fill them with that peace now as RIGHT NOW they are in your will. And help them sift through all the suggestions, all the demands, all the options. It must be so frustrating. Protect them from hopelessness, the feeling that everyone will be disappointed, the lie that they can "screw this up." Unite their hearts together, please, Father. Give them good communication. Help them to see and reaffirm their desire to honor You and obey You. And then in the confidence that comes from knowing that you will never leave them, help them decide. Make it unmistakable. Help them honor one another in the process. Please surround them with the confidence of knowing that they are loved and understood by their families. We love you, Father, Amen."

Today I was hanging out at Crystal's before watching American Idol; one of my greatest blessings. (Hanging out with Crystal, not watching American Idol) Crystal started to play me a new rendition of one of her songs and while she was singing, Addie joined in. She was oohing and ahhing at all the right parts in her adorable - albeit atonal - harmony. I love that. I love that she greets me with a special grunt reserved only for her Tia. That she is going to learn to walk before she ever figures out how to crawl. And I love being familiar to her. I want to be familiar with all my nieces and nephews. So, that decides it: Jay and Liz have to be in Lincoln when they finally start growing their own children.

So far we're sitting at three of the six hermans posting withing a week on "the hermans" and that is better than before. But I wager not as good as we could see. I place the responsibility on those state-side to put pressure on the Bens, and I've done similar coercing with my wife. However, in all fairness, I should make this an actual post, not merely a "rant" against delinquent hermans.

We made a friend during Christmas break. His name is Tom McCurley. He is a staunch supporter of Spring Hill Camps, and he was the one responsible for the Red Wings game that Liz and I went to over break. At any rate, during our one night of interaction and introduction, he finds out we are missionaries in Mexico and mentions that even though he doesn't do business in Chihuahua specifically, he will fly down to Chihuahua to see us and bless us in our ministry. (How fun, we think.) Well tonight he arrived and took us out for a phenomenal dinner at a Brazilian steakhouse. We ate and drank our fill, we talked for hours, and I would say we are both encouraged as a direct result. "Tom, you have done your job. Thank you."

If this were Survivor, I would still be on the island because I posted within the time parameters. Updates:

I have Noni's ukulele and I am having a blast tinkering with it. Broke a string. And did you know that there are 'orchestras' that play only ukuleles? Youtube it.

I have become the utter 7th wheel and that is not acceptable. Unfortunately, there is not anything I can do to rectify the situation. Chango (when I meet him) will have to suffice.

Read the first page of the Brothers Karamazof and it took me like 20 minutes. This will shatter all records for Longest Time Spent Reading the Same Book.

Good call, Herman. I thrive on challenge. I think we will need to email our first Herman the password and username again. He is using faulty memory as an excuse - limp excuse. Ben the brother, we got your back.

I think Addison is waking up. She talks to herself when she is ready to get up. Her favorite sounds right now are "da da da" "dat dat dat" or "mu mu mu." She is oblivious to the irrational joy this brings her "da" and "mu." Of course she may be talking about her poopy diaper for all we know. I'll go get her now. I love you, Hermans.

Familia, I propose a challenge. I understand that we are all busy folks, and that we are all in positions of grandeur and fame, but I want to start staying in pseudo-contact better. :) My proposition is simple. Each of us must post on this blog once per week, and if we miss, there will be dire consequences. (Of which I am unsure, but ideas and comments are encouraged.)

To begin, I post about my wife. She is beautiful. Especially at this moment with her nose newly freckled from the Floridian sun, and her face in a puzzled expression as she works on her crossword puzzle. I love her for too many reasons, among which is her utter and complete surrender to God's will while she's down here, AND her unrivaled peace she experiences when she's curled up in my arms. Her birthday is on Thursday, and I wish her a most amazing day and year to follow.

I wish someone would post to this so that the first thing that meets our sore eyes is NOT the large half-naked amazonian woman. Just thinkin'...

I love many things about Liz and Jay. I love that they forgo the typical American dream. Get out of college, get married, settle down, find well paying jobs, have 2.3 kids. They got married before getting out of college (or at least half of them did), they are not currently in lucrative positions. They have not planted roots in a home or pets. All these things are probably not the easiest things.

Liz, your husband is one quirky fella. He is fearless and possibly insane. I feel like I am copying what Crystal said, but I am inexplicably proud of the way you follow Jay right into the craziness. You have gone where few others would dare and I boast about you all the time. I have decided that because of your bravery you must be none other than: