Ramblings From A to Z

More Garden...Volume 2

2010-07-05T12:47:00.000-07:00

Dinner last night: venison roast, and corn, peppers, and onion. All cooked in the middle of the garden. : )

This was my view across the street last night:

Canteloupe vines, with a rogue tomato growing in the middle of the patch.

Baby canteloupe.

Feverfew.

The start of next year's woodpile.

Spinach, now bolting. We'll be planting Bloomsdale long-standing again.

Sunflowers, about 4 ft. tall ~ due to be 8 to 12 ft fully grown.

Remember this? This is the same vine, after a harsh winter pruning this year, and growth this year only.

Baby grapes.

Spearmint, in its infancy. I planted it along a rocky ridge that happens to hold soil in an attempt to curb its vigor a bit. I didn't dare plant it into one of the "regular" beds.

Raspberry brambles (the black ones) all the way down the line.

The other raspberry patch, complete with weeds and a maple tree in the middle.

Mutant raspberry: most produce on last year's canes. This one is producing on a first year cane. And they are huge.

One of my altheas, taken about 7 this morning. I also have a blush pink one, and a dark mauve-y one with a dark purple center.

Mulberry tree, they ripen a delicious dark purple and are actually SWEET. I'm used to them being a little more tart.

This one also likes to eat the mulberries, but isn't quite tall enough to reach without some assistance.

My nemesis: poison ivy. Not only does it spread with wicked abandon along my woodline (and in between my raspberries), but it also becomes a climbing vine when it meets a tree or fence. Evil stuff.

Tall phlox.

One child prefers to play rather than work in the garden. And that's ok.

Turnips.

Pumpkins, weeds, and a whole lot of volunteer tomatoes from last year's patch.

Peas, some of the last.

Peppers and tomatoes ~ early.

Tomatoes and peppers now.

Garden June/July 2010

2010-07-05T12:25:00.000-07:00

Here are some shots from around the garden:

Lazy day!

Clematis. Last year they were solid orchid, this year they have developed the darker bars in the middle of the flowers.

Onions: red, and sweet (granex-type).

Peas ~ in the beginning.

Peas ~ now. They're about done, they prefer cooler weather.

Gypsy peppers.

Bell peppers.

Rainbow mix peppers ~ these are turning dark purple.

Digging for 'taters.

Happy okra ~ it loves the heat!

I have a helper that prefers more to play in the dirt than actually help in the garden...

Cherry tomatoes. We have an affliction at this house: no cherry tomatoes have yet to make it inside the house. My children tend to eat them immediately.

Chicory patch. Eat the young leaves in a salad. You can also dig the root, chop into small pieces, roast it in your oven, and grind it up to add to your coffee. Num, tastes like New Orleans.

Chicory typically has lovely blue flowers, like someone took a daisy and squared off the ends of the petals.

A few early potatoes and young turnips.

Everything in Moderation

2010-06-08T14:50:00.001-07:00

Lately I've been noticing comments left in foreign characters. I have learned that a lot of those users are spamming advertisements for sites that I have no wish to promote. I don't want to block them entirely, as I do have some Korean friends, but I also want to avoid the junk.

I am currently moderating all comments left; if it takes a day or two for one of yours to show up, that's why.

Off to do some gardening with what's left of the day.

~ JH

A Quiet Place

2010-06-05T13:46:00.000-07:00

Today we are just spending some time as a family and reflecting on our Siberian Husky's antics -- he passed while sleeping last night. Our daughter, who is 4, is starting to "get it"; our son doesn't seem to grasp the concept well. He will still randomly call for the dog, as will our daughter. For that matter, both my husband and I have called both dogs at some point today before catching ourselves.

We buried Meeshie in the back yard before the kids were up this morning, in a quiet corner near the woods he loved so much. Our daughter has made 4 treks out there so far today to "make sure he's ok".

I know that he was "just a dog", but he was also family as far as we're concerned. I've had him longer than I've had kids, and he's always been there as far as the kids know. He will always be the only large dog I know that:

a) was scared of tree frogs
b) while peeing on a bush, was startled by a bird (who was startled by the "shower")
and fell over mid-stream
c) "kissed" you by bumping noses rather than licking, and
d) chased laser pointer lights like a cat

I'm going to miss that stinking dog. He was a good boy.

Cooking Venture -- Pasta Sauce

2010-05-17T16:29:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I posted a recipe. Here's one that I have thrown together that comes out surprisingly well. This pasta sauce starts with a creamy garlic base and then gets the tomato added in. It's not a super thick consistency like a marinara or hearty garden-style pasta sauce, but the flavah is fab-o plain jane, or with chicken or shrimp.

Garlic Cream Tomato Sauce
-----------------------------------------------------
1/2 stick butter
1 to 2 tsp minced garlic (depends on how strong you like it...)
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup parmesan/asiago/romano cheese blend, grated
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup white cooking wine
1 T basil, dried -- use fresh if you've got it!!
1 tsp parsley (or a little more if it's fresh -- chop it coarsely).
1 8-oz can tomato sauce
salt and pepper to taste -- remember that cooking wine already has salt in it
-------
optional additions include:
chopped fresh tomato (canned tomato, drained works OK too)
onion or green onion
bell pepper strips -- I like the red and yellow ones' flavor best in this sauce
chicken -- grilled or sauteed, it's great in this sauce
shrimp -- if you want something more special than chicken
a tiny amount of fresh spinach, just wilted (Do not use canned! Ick.) It doesn't take many leaves to be "enough".

You'll also need a box o' pasta. I have used linguini and penne with this sauce, and either works just fine. Regular spaghetti doesn't have enough "tooth" for my liking to go well with this flavorful sauce.

Here's how you do it:

In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the buttah. Add the minced garlic and cook briefly until the color starts to change and you can smell that it's cooked. Garlic burns easily if you're not watching it, it doesn't take long to cook it.

Add the sour cream and cheese blend, stirring until combined and heated through. I generally use a whisk rather than a spoon just to make sure it's good and smooth. Add the milk and white wine; stir until blended. Add the basil, parsley, tomato sauce, and salt and pepper (to taste).

Simmer over lo to med-lo heat (depends on how hot your burner is) for about a half hour, stirring frequently to prevent burning on the bottom. Cook your pasta in a separate pan while the sauce finishes up.

If I am adding bell pepper strips or onion (or both), I generally add them at the beginning of the simmering process and let them enjoy a hot-tub experience for the full half hour. This lets their flavor really penetrate the dish while softening the veggies. Add the spinach at the end, as it does not take long for the leaves to wilt. (You don't want them completely mushy and slimy, they should still have some body to them).

If I add chicken, I use either diced or strips of pre-cooked chicken -- I do not cook the chicken in the sauce. I don't know that it matters, but I want to ensure that it's done all the way through and depending on the temperature of my simmering sauce, it doesn't always get thoroughly cooked. I wait until the end and add the chicken to the sauce just to heat it through.

Shrimp is a whole other ballgame. If adding (uncooked) shrimp, I add them the last 2 minutes and watch carefully to make sure the shrimp are not over-cooked. Shrimp cooks very quickly; as soon as you see that it is opaque and almost completely pink, remove the pan from heat. The residual heat in the pan will finish the cooking process and leave the shrimp tender without making them rubbery. If the shrimp are completely bright pink, they chance being over done by the time they sit in the pan and are served a few minutes later. If you're using pre-cooked shrimp, add them right at the end to just warm them and try to prevent that unfortunate rubbery texture.

** note -- do make sure the shrimp is fully cooked before consuming it. This is not a fusion recipe of Italian cuisine and Japanese sashimi.**

Other notes:

I'm a basil junkie. I could bathe in it. (I'm sure there's a 12-step program for people like me, but I'm reveling in my addiction at the moment). Accordingly, the amount that I put in the sauce may be too much for the average palate. As always, put in what you like in the amount you like it. I view recipes as a loose framework that give you the opportunity to let your own creativity and personal style shine through.

The sauce thickens as it cools, so don't despair if it seems a little thin initially.

Enjoy!

To Pee or Not To Pee

2010-05-17T07:02:00.000-07:00

To Pee, or Not To Pee? THAT is the question. At least, it is in our household.

I have supreme bragging rights on my son, A, who has been in cotton undies for a whole month now. He stays dry 99% of the time during the daytime -- I can count his "#1" accidents during the last month on one hand, and have fingers left over. Even as recently as the New Year, A would/could not do this. We've tried the cotton undies before and had very messy results. We're just so glad that something is finally clicking with him about the toileting, even if it's taken 6 1/2 years to do it.

We are still working on the #2 aspect, though. If he's in briefs, this is not such a big deal (even though it is very messy). We took a gamble and lost when we combined boxer-style undies and a pair of shorts one day. He was at home when we became aware that that combination was not a good one. Nothing some good ol' Chlorox can't handle, both in the laundry and on the floor.

Overall, A has done an outstanding job with keeping himself pretty clean. As frustrating as the streaks of fecal material (and sometimes a little extra) are in his underwear, his daddy and I also realize that A really can't help some of it. Some of it. There are times when he knows he has to go, and will bypass the bathroom to go hide in his closet to do his business. Z and I are still trying to figure out a way to effectively discourage this activity, short of super-gluing our child to the toilet seat. The last option, while effective in one regard, does have its obvious limitations.

We are still having some issues with overnight bed-wetting, which happens 3 or 4 days out of the week. Z and I finally went out and got some nighttime pants, for nocturnal use only, just to save us from washing blankets, sheets, pillows, and mattress covers every single day. Our aging septic pit can't handle large quantities of water, we have to space out showers/baths, dishes, and laundry over the course of the day. Adding two more laundry loads per day was maxing out our system, so it was the better part of valor to suck it up and buy the disposables for overnight use.

As wonderfully as A has been doing, his sister has decided to take a very different course. She has started peeing in her panties again. We're not entirely sure why she is regressing all of a sudden. I'm wondering if my going back to work about a month ago has anything to do with it, since that is about the time we started having these issues. K was totally embarrassed this weekend -- twice -- because she peed herself in public, so we're hoping that will help solve the situation.

The first time she did it, we were working with the youth. I had told her to go to the bathroom as soon as we reached the building and she ignored me; then she peed in her pants about 10 minutes later. I did not have a change of clothes with me, so she had to stay in the (tile floored) bathroom by herself for 3 hours. I couldn't have her sitting on the carpet or upholstered seats in her wet pee clothing, and I wasn't going to let her run around naked in front of a bunch of teenagers.

The second time was during church the next morning; the ladies teaching her class had no choice but to put her in a "baby diaper" (K's words, not mine). K was especially miffed because they were boy pants with Spiderman on them.

Let's hope that did the trick.

The Garden

2010-05-16T18:23:00.000-07:00

Things have been so nuts after I started working. My poor flowerbeds are still completely wild. My grand plans to have most of my garden dug up and planted have been thwarted by rain on my available evenings to veg with the veggies.

But I persevere. I'm good like that, yo.

So THIS weekend was nice, because I am very nearly caught up to where I thought I'd be at this time of spring:

My beds are mostly dug. I have one more that I will be putting sweet potatoes and yellow straight-neck squash in that has not been started yet -- the sweet potatoes grow below the ground and the vines on top deter squash beetles. Companion planting at its finest.

I was trying to figure out what to do about peppers and tomatoes, because my neighbor's bad kitties got into our sunporch area and knocked all my pots off of the windowsills. So much for seedlings. God blesses over and abundantly, however, because even though we never said anything to our neighbor, he showed up this afternoon with six pepper and six tomato plants that were leftover out of his garden. He didn't have room for them, so he gave them to us.

As of today, my peas, turnips, onions, potatoes, carrots, spinach, peppers, tomatoes, and early corn have all been planted, along with some mammoth Russian sunflowers. I plan to add some late corn, okra, canteloupe/muskmelons, pumpkins, some bush and pole beans, and some winter acorn squash to the mix, as well as the above-mentioned sweet potatoes and yellow summer squash.

Most of my herbs are also started, although I need to plant the sage, summer savory, and chives in their permanent home. The dill, oregano, and parsley are gaining momentum. But I'm having a dickens of a time getting any rosemary to grow! I must have gotten a bad seed packet or something, because none of the seeds I tried to start early in pots have sprouted, and neither have any of the seeds scattered outside. I might have to break down and buy some rosemary that's already started.

We're supposed to be getting rain for the next three days, then a short break, and rain again next weekend so I think my planting days are over for a little while. All that good rain will just make everything that's already in shoot up.

All I want now are two or three hens, and I'm good. I just need to convince my husband that hens are a good thing. (You don't need a rooster for a hen to lay eggs; you do need a rooster if you want chicks). : ) Maybe if I promise not to give them names like Queen Latifah or FifiTrixieBelle, he'd be more apt to consider it...

Crazy

2010-05-14T16:22:00.000-07:00

Crazy.

Anyone who knows me knows that I might have a slight tendency to be a tad on the (hopefully fun) crazy side. Occasionally, of course. I'm not up to the "runs with scissors" level, but still love to be with people and have a good time.

Anyone who knows me also knows I like to coordinate things so they flow together: outfits, my home decor, my (planned, in my head) garden space.

Guess what? Now my schedule matches the rest of me: it's crazy, too!

The good thing is, I'm always super busy at work so my days zip by in what seems like a blink of an eye. In fact, I am rarely even at my desk. I deposit files as I rush by, but have not had time to actually sit and work on any of them until today. My desk chair is so neglected...and my files were forming a manila folder and paperclip jungle in the confines of my office space. No worries about being attacked by a rogue stapler, though, the only wildlife I encounter on a regular basis are some of the clients. No, seriously; I'm glad we have guards -- they've already saved my bacon as recently as last week. Desperate times make for desperate people.

I had a rare treat today! I did absolutely zero interviews so I could (try to) catch up on my paperwork. Wielding my trusty keyboard and mouse, I powered through all the stacks and have a clean workspace for the first time in over a week. Clear-cutting through my paper forest did take its toll: the files eked out their revenge in the form of nasty papercuts. But the files are taken care of. Well, all but two -- I just couldn't get to them, even staying at work late for the fourth night in a row. Staying late is a cardinal sin at my office. We don't get paid over-time, and the work will still be there when we get back the next day. I know this, but I also know that peoples' lives are directly affected by whether or not I can get everything done or not.

"Normal" caseload is 3 or 4 cases a day, and three or four people (normally) rotate throughout the week so no one gets overloaded. Thanks to the economy (both increasing the clientele and decreasing the workers), things are no longer "normal". I've been doing all of the cases solo for 2 weeks straight -- and have over 70 active clients of my own (again, in just 2 weeks), plus I'm helping another girl with her caseload because she's out. I've been interviewing between 8 and 10 clients every day, some of which have to be denied. The denials help with managing it all, in that I don't have to track their file, make additions or phone calls, etc.; on the other hand, each denial has its own unique paperwork that must be done, so that adds to the workload in a different way.

This job is not for the faint of heart or anyone who wants to be rich monetarily. But if you like helping people, and don't care so much about the money aspect, this is a great job. I personally love it. Yes, it's stressful. Yes, there are some days I want to shake some sense into some of my clients. And yes, my heart absolutely breaks for other clients. But overall, I love what I'm doing.

I am helping a lot of people just make it right now, at a time when their options are few and difficult to choose between. I'm saving the world one weary soul at a time -- at least, that's how I look at it. Others would look at the workload involved, see the pay offered, and think I was crazy. But, of course, we've already established that I fall into that category.

Triumph!!

2010-04-18T11:32:00.000-07:00

As of this entry, my son has kept his underwear clean and dry for the fourth day in a row! Mind, these are normal, cotton undies -- not the disposable ones. Earlier attempts to use regular underwear have come to (very) bad ends...and messy ones, at that. At this point, however, we simply can not buy him any more and are doing a lot of finger-crossing and praying.

A made it through Thursday evening at church, through school all day on Friday, and was away from home on Saturday about half the day and home the rest. All dry and clean. He made it through church this morning, and lunch, and it's now mid-afternoon. He has also slept in them overnight, and had no issues. Woo hoo!! I am so unbelievably proud of my kiddo. (I realize that if you're new to this site, you may think that this is not much of a big deal. I assure you, it is to us).

I'm really hoping the diaper bag days are (finally) at a close, albeit about 4 years later than most parents get to do it. The average age for autistic children to be potty trained is actually 5, so we're not doing too badly. A is six and a half.

It's been a rough go up to this point. There were tears on both our parts at various stages in the game, his because we were altering his routine and he simply did NOT want to do it, mine because I was so, so very frustrated to be cleaning the poopy butt of a stubborn 6-yr old kid that ran past the bathroom to go hide in a corner and poop in his pants.

Poop gets much more potent the older you get (why,yes; you may call me Captain Obvious). Two-yr-olds are starting the smelly process, but are also generally potty trained around that time and it's flushed down the toilet. My son has had years to perfect his "aromatic bouquet", and also perfect his bathroom-dodging techniques. It takes a full scrubdown with multiple wipes or a washcloth to get the caked-on poop off his butt after he's sat on it. I can say with absolute certainty that changing an older child's dirty underwear is a much different animal than changing a toddler's dirty underwear -- more mess, more smell.

BUT! Hopefully that is all behind us now!

Yay.

Fun with Preschoolers

2010-04-10T16:01:00.000-07:00

My husband is really enjoying getting to be home with the kids right now. He missed most of A's early milestones, and missed a lot of K's too because of long work schedules or being away from home altogether. But now he gets to be a part of all of the guts-and-glory that is parenting.

For example, he got to watch our newly-4-yr-old daughter get her first "wedgie". We normally drive small cars, but we used a van on Thursday and she practically did a split climbing down out of it. K got a mortified expression on her face and her mouth hung open for a second before exclaiming, "My underwear! It's in my butt! Up in there!!!" We had to explain, while laughing, that she just needed to rearrange her foundation garments and she'd be OK. She had the most horrified expression on her little face, though.

Z also gets to "enjoy" K's constant chatter. I recognized the hunted expression on his face when I got home from work on Friday...I've sported that very same look myself on occasion. She also has a way with words. Today, I was explaining that she only needed one stool to sit on, not two or three. She asked why, so I explained that because she only has one bottom, she only needs one chair or stool to sit on at a time so we could share the others.

She looked at me very sweetly, and then proceeded to tell me that she had a little bottom, and A had a little bottom, but I had a "very big, large bottom" and so did her daddy -- and then started to describe how butts help us poop. Fabulous. While I'm glad she has an idea of how certain things work, this was not exactly the best conversation to be having in the church building. And, of course, this was all in front of our preacher. Of course it was. He didn't bat an eye, and I'm really hoping that his conversation he was already having with my husband at that moment somehow distracted the preacher or prevented him from hearing exactly what charming conversations I was having with my youngest.

K has also been taught that to "flex", or "make muscles", they have to be accompanied by sound effects. However, her father did not teach her the usual grunts associated with body building. I don't know why I would think he would; then again, this bit of knowledge(?) is not something I ever really thought about teaching to our daughter. Apparently, when raising your arms up on either side of you and making a large "U" shape, you have to meow like a cat. If you have one arm up and one arm down, like an Egyptian, then you have to squeak with the movements back and forth like a squeaky toy. And, if both arms are flexed downward, then you can grunt. I learn something new every day.

K is also convinced that I have insects in my cranium. I had a cold and told her that I had a bug. Later on, I mentioned that I was feeling "stinky" and rotten. K put two and two together, and now believes that when I'm congested that I have a "stinkbug in [my] head".

Adorable? Yes. Funny? Oh, yeah. Future blackmail material? You'd better believe it.

On the Brink

2010-04-03T07:36:00.000-07:00

Things are looking up at the H house!

For starters, our son, A, has finally started completing his work at school. Much to the delight and surprise of his teacher, I might add. I'm not entirely sure she believed me when I told her he could read, spell, and write because A has flat-out refused to do most of his work this year.

In the last month or so, he has started filling out his writing sheets, doing his addition and subtraction, and been generally behaving himself in the classroom. Yay! This is a relief not only for his teacher, but also for me and Z. Knowing your son can do things, but having a stubborn child who refuses to do things for anyone but mom and dad is not a good combination when there are special needs in the mix. The teacher can only assess his abilities on her observations and experiences, not what A does when he's at home.

We're still having an issue with how they do the testing, as a good portion of it is verbal and our son is NOT overly verbal. He has made great strides, and can hold mini-conversations with Z and I, and a few other close friends, but on an over-all scale he is nowhere close to his peers. A's mini-conversations tend to be sentence fragments, rather than entire grammatically correct sentences, but we understand what he's trying to convey and are just glad he's making the effort. We can tell that it takes an enormous amount of concentration and energy to do what he is able to do, and as long as he's doing his best (and not being a lazy butt) we're fine with that.

Our son is, by the way, a lazy butt if he thinks he can get away with it -- he'll try to see if he can get out of doing whatever someone requests by ignoring them, or starting to stim while watching them out of the corner of his eye. If you're firm with him, and tell him to do whatever it is again, he'll stop stimming, sigh, and then actually do what he was asked to do. The key is knowing when A is trying to get out of doing something, and when he's genuinely stimming or off in his own world. The people that have figured the differences out, understandably, are the ones who spend the most time with him -- and since A is mainstreamed in a "normal" kindergarten classroom, his teacher's attention is divided between A and the other 17 kids in the class. As the year has progressed, she's figuring out A's cues.

In other news, our son has worn regular cotton undies for two days straight without any incident. We still have to prompt him, as he rarely volunteers to go to the bathroom on his own, but he has done a terrific job keeping his pants clean and dry. Of course, he also hasn't pooped in two days, so the streaking has not been an issue.

Our son, like a lot of autistic children, has some muscular weaknesses throughout his body. In addition to his fine-motor skills in his hands, he also lacks some core strength and bowel strength. In our research and conversations with other parents of autistic children, a lot of auties have issues with constipation and impaction. We have to make sure we feed A lots of foods that "make him go", such as sweet potatoes, spinach, and grapes, and try to avoid foods that stop you up, such as bananas, apples and apple juice, and cheese or yogurt. We also have to periodically give him an oral laxative and insert suppositories. If these don't work, then we have to do an old-fashioned enema.

The upside is, these things do what they're supposed to and things get moved on through. The downside is, if we don't do these things, he gets impacted and that means a trip to the hospital. AND another downside is, the more we have to resort to these measures, the less his bowels will do the work on their own; they become dependent on the laxatives and enemas.

"Poop" is a regular topic of conversation around here. Just keepin' it real, this is some of what we deal with on a daily basis.

On the non-crappy side of things, I started a new job this week! Fate had a conversation with irony and arranged this one for me: I was eligible for all sorts of state and federal assistance programs until I started my new job, and now I help people with their applications for those same programs. I have been blessed with the opportunity to help people who are -- literally -- where I just was, last week.

I know (some of) what they're going through, so I think I'm really going to enjoy parts of this job. Everyone has a unique story, and I know what a blessing and relief it is when your family is taken care of. The parts I won't enjoy are in there, too, as there are some clients who have some....interesting philosophies...regarding entitlement issues and how to improve one's financial position, and I am going to have to tell some people "no" and deal with the fall-out. Luckily for me, I am not making the final decision on the eligibility issues, so I don't have to sweat or fret about making the right or wrong decision, I just have to let them know what the decision is. It won't help me when I have to tell someone I would love to help "no", though.

I'm going to have to learn how to emotionally distance myself from our clients, or I'm going to have a lot of heartbreak and bad days. This is not to say I can't be compassionate or caring, those qualities must be shown to everyone to provide dignity and respect to the client. I just can't cry every time I have to turn someone away who is in desperate need. And I also can't get mad or too frustrated if I get a client who is obviously lying and trying to pull a fast one, like yesterday.

There will be a learning curve, but I'm glad to both have a job, and have a job where I can help people at a time when they need it most.

Cooking Venture -- Greek-Style Spinach Pie

2010-04-03T06:37:00.000-07:00

Spinach is one of the first things we harvest in the spring-time here. It is very tolerant of cold weather, and when planted under cloches or in a cold-frame, you can get a very early harvest! It is so refreshing to have fresh greens after a long winter.

One of our favorite things to do with spinach in this house is to incorporate it into a variety of Greek and Mediterranean dishes. Our favorite, hands down, is spanikopita. The traditional version calls for many, many sheets of phyllo pastry and a lot of butter that's brushed between the pastry sheets. While it tastes fabulous (sometimes I swear I hear an angelic chorus when I take my first bite), it is loaded with a lot of fat. And the fat cells in my butt are the friendly sort, always welcoming to newcomers.

Soooo, after some experimentation, I have come up with a lower-fat version using pie crusts. Notice I did not say "fat-free", pie crust has enough lipid storage-inducing action of its own. But the fat content of the pie crust is still much, much lower than the traditional phyllo and butter combination. Without further ado, my perversion of Greek spinach pie:

Non-traditional Greek-style Spinach Pie

2 pounds fresh spinach -- washed, stemmed, and chopped
olive oil
1 medium onion -- finely chopped
1 bunch of green onions, or about 4 to 5 scallions -- finely chopped
1/4 cup fresh snipped dill
1/4 cup fresh chopped parsley
4 large eggs
8 oz feta cheese, crumbled
1/4 to 1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese (if you have kefalotiri cheese, use that)
1/4 tsp salt, to taste (optional, depends on how salty your feta is)
freshly ground black pepper -- just a few grinds
pinch of freshly ground nutmeg -- a little goes a long way
crusts for a covered 9-inch pie (two pieces of pastry, one on top and one on bottom)

Preheat oven to 375 deg F.

Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet, over medium heat. Add onion and green onion/scallions, cook until softened (about 6 minutes).

Add chopped spinach a little at a time, cooking until wilted and liquid is released. Once all the spinach has been added to the pan (and this takes a few minutes), turn up the heat to "high" and cook until the liquid is gone and the spinach is fairly dry. Stir often to prevent burning!! The liquid evaporation will take about 10 minutes or so.

Add the dill and parsley, mix well. Remove from heat and let cool slightly. Place spinach into colander and press to remove any excess liquid that might be in there.

In a large bowl, lightly beat the eggs. Add the cooled spinach mixture, the feta, parmesan cheese, salt, a few grinds of black pepper, and the pinch of nutmeg. Mix well, ensuring the egg is completely incorporated (otherwise you'll get weird veins of scrambled egg in the middle of your spinach pie...just speaking from experience here).

Lightly grease a glass/ceramic pie dish with cooking oil. Place one crust on the bottom of the dish, making sure it fits on the bottom and up the sides, and filling in any holes or gaps. Put spinach/egg/cheese mixture into crust, spreading to evenly fill. I tend to make mine a little higher in the center and lower around the sides, but that's just my preference. Top with the other pie crust, sealing around the edges. Cut a few vent slits on the top of the pie with a sharp knife.

Bake for 45 minutes or so, or until your crust is golden brown. Let stand 10 minutes before cutting and serving.

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NOTES: If you don't grow your own spinach, you can buy 2 of the 16-oz bags of fresh spinach at the market, or 3 of the 10-oz bags will get you close enough. I've also used 3 10-oz boxes of the frozen chopped spinach and it turns out just fine. DO NOT USE CANNED SPINACH, I can tell you from experience that it just does not work out well.

Also, you really do want to drain the cooked spinach mixture in a colander. This is important, because if there is extra liquid it makes the finished dish soggy and limp, and the crust is slimy. This goes for making it the traditional way with the phyllo, too. Removing all that liquid makes the dish have more body and a pleasing texture. You don't have to let it cool before doing this step, I just don't like to burn my hands. Allowing it to cool slightly also prevents the hot spinach from immediately cooking the eggs in the next step.

I have found that it is generally cheaper to buy a solid 8-oz block of feta and crumble it myself, than to purchase it already crumbled.

You can use dried herbs in place of the fresh ones, just use way less since dried herbs are so much stronger in flavor.

You can make your own pie crusts, or buy a box of 2 at the market.

My kids scarf this recipe, even my anti-vegetable son. He loves it!

Enjoy!

Sew What?

2010-03-28T13:10:00.000-07:00

WARNING: This post has been rated "D" by the DGAU (Domestic Goddess Association of the Universe), for showing graphic detail of the Domestically Disabled.

If you're a crafty person with a modicum of skill with a needle, read this at your own peril. The author is not responsible for any twitches, eyebrows arched in disbelief, or gobsmacked expressions that may occur while reading this post.

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If you're still reading this, let it be known once again that as talented as I am at some artistic media (including music and paint), sewing eludes me. It seems so simple, a child could do it. In fact, children do do it, every day in various countries of the world. (I almost edited that last sentence, but then decided, what the heck? I'll leave it in there for my own base amusement).

Having been unemployed for two months now, my husband and I are trying to find things to do around the house to keep ourselves busy, make things better, and stay out of each other's hair. We rounded up all the partial cans of paint under the stairs and mixed a few together to paint the kitchen a nice, mediterranean-type of yellow -- like a sun-washed, aged stucco found on an old Italian farmhouse. At least, that was the goal; we actually came pretty close.

I think the lingering paint fumes may have had something to do with my next move: "Hey!" I thought to myself. "I have all this material from these old red-and- gold striped curtains, so I'll just use it to make some valances for the kitchen windows."

For those that don't know, I'll repeat again that I am a sewing dunce. I was actually banned from touching the sewing machines in 7th grade Home Ec because I broke two of them. The teacher wasn't sure how I'd managed it, either, but I had to hand-sew my final project, which was an apron. Perhaps that is why I really don't enjoy this particular craft to this day...I didn't own a thimble and got pricked quite a lot. I even used to be pretty upset at the Biblical Eve. I figured that if she hadn't have goofed up in the Garden, then I wouldn't be having to suffer through sewing class in Junior High School because there wouldn't be a need for it.

Fast-forward twentyish years, and here I am attempting this activity once again. I told myself it wasn't that difficult, and to quit being so put off by the idea of sewing. I know lots of people that sew lots of cute things. I should be able to do this, right? Right? So, I get out my little basic sewing machine that I was given a number of years ago...it's cute, yellow, and only makes one straight stitch, in the forward direction only. It would appear to be idiot-proof, and yet somehow it was not the case.

After fumbling with the darned thing for about an hour, I got it to actually sew. Yes, I read the directions. Then it took me another hour and a half to cut and pin the fabric I was trying to sew, to make it all even so my valances matched in length. I had three windows to do, so a total of six hems were required. I stabbed myself a few times, but I shook it off because I was sooooo determined to do this, and do it right. I sat down at the little sewing machine, and put my first piece of material in place...and stared at it for a moment. I started sewing...did you know it is very easy to sew a crooked line? I can apparently do those very easily.

I ripped out the first seam, and tried it again. Three hours later, I have one valance completed because I wasn't going to do it over yet again, half of another valance done, and think I'm starting to get the hang of this stuff. The last seam I had completed was moderately straight, and I only had to do it once. Foolish mortal. It was at that point that I broke the sewing machine needle. And lots of thread. (Did you know that it is a very important thing to make sure the "foot" is all the way down before you start to sew? Now I do, too.)

So, after another couple of hours, all three curtain panels are done and I got them hung. It only took me six hours to get these done (an average of one hour per seam). I have two short, straight panels on the side windows, and a bunched version the same depth that is over the larger sink window. Now that I look at them, I can see that they are in desperate need of an iron, but at this point I am too tired to care. I'm gonna have to claim the "domestically disabled" status for this, too. I generally only iron when I'm angry.

Here's a couple of examples of what I finally produced. They're not perfect, but they'll work. It's the principle of the thing, y'know? I made 'em and bled for 'em, so they're staying up there for a while. You'll notice that even though both of these windows are in the same room, the yellow looks different in the two pictures. This is because I have a naked fluorescent bulb perched over the sink that bathes everything in a garish light. Incidentally, the bunched curtain's hem is actually even (I know; will wonders never cease?), it just looks wonky in the picture due to the angle.

I'm thinking those paint fumes must have been pretty darned strong, because a few days later, I decide that the descent into sewing hell hadn't really been all that bad, and decide to attempt a new project. Please select from the following:

Does this look like:

A) a hand puppet that conveniently doubles as a voodoo doll,

B) Gumby had a run-in with an incinerator,

C) a maxi-pad on steroids, or

D) a cloth representation of a 3-yr-old's drawing of an airplane?

I can tell you that it's none of the above, although the maxi-pad is the closest. Because we are unemployed, keeping my son in disposable butt covers is becoming a challenge. I am trying to figure out ways to make a washable, reusable liner for his undies that is both comfortable, but also really absorbent so we don't have accidents in public. Something tells me this first attempt is just a bit off the mark, but it's my first try.

I used old fleece sweatpants as the outer layer, for both his bum's comfort and the "gripping action" of the fleece, similar to how a flannel-board works. I figured it would help the liner to stay in place in his undies. The "wings" are supposed to have snaps set in place, and will lock under his briefs much the same way "wings" do on a feminine product. I lined the bottom with a vinyl fabric, and put the interior of an old pair of training pants and two layers of super-absorbent chamois cloth in the middle.

Next try, I'm going to use part of an old fabric-covered travel baby-changing pad as the water-proof element and fiddle with my proportions a bit. The current prototype hangs out the top and bottom of my son's briefs...my measurements were a little too generous. I knew you had to allow some extra room for seam-allowances, but didn't know how much. To my credit, though, I stitched the whole mess together inside out, and flipped it right-side out, so all the seams are on the interior of this...thing. What you see is the unfinished bottom where I haven't sewn it all shut yet. You can also see that I am having to repair one of the "wings" which was pulled loose during the flipping portion of the project. A few unflattering terms may have come loose, too, while I was trying to turn it inside out.

Due to all the time I'm spending getting to know my sewing machine (and my seam ripper), I am starting to re-think my original classification of the act of sewing. I no longer think it deserves a place in Dante's Inferno, in a Canto reserved especially for the craftily inept. Although I am far from being competent with a needle and thread, this sewing stuff does show some promise...not including the incinerated Gumby, of course.

Fancy Feast -- Pumpkin Muffins

2010-03-11T09:57:00.000-08:00

My daughter requested a tea party breakfast a couple of nights ago, to which I absently replied, "Sure! No problem!" before I really thought about it.

I completely forgot about her request until I'd put her brother on the bus yesterday morning. I was cruising around the kitchen trying to figure out if I wanted to make something or just do cereal for breakfast when her request ricocheted from somewhere in the depths of my brain.

Luckily, at this age she's also pretty easy to please. I found a can of pumpkin hiding in the pantry (you have to watch those rogue cans, you know) and decided I would make these delectable "nuffins". They are great for sneaking in some beta carotene and fiber in your kids' (or your) diet.

Pumpkin Muffins
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2 1/2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 T cinnamon
1/4 tsp allspice
1/4 tsp ground cloves
3 eggs
1 3/4 cup plain unspiced pumpkin (1 regular-sized can)
3/4 cups veg oil
1/2 cup raisins

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease 18 muffin cups.

In a large bowl, mix dry ingredients well. In a separate bowl, beat eggs, add pumpkin and oil, stirring to combine. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients until everything is just moistened and incorporated. Do not over mix!! Add raisins, stirring just to combine.

Fill 18 muffin cups 3/4 full (you can also do 12 muffins and 2 mini loaf pans with this recipe). Sprinkle tops with cinnamon and sugar. I keep some on hand in a shaker and use it on toast, but in case you don't, here's a nice ratio:

2 T sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon

Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes or until done.

Here's something that I do that helps when filling muffin cups: I use the small gravy ladle that comes with your "serving" set from your flatware. Note that this is NOT a standard ladle, generally used for soups or drinks. Using the (small) gravy ladle means less drips and mess than using a straight spoon, and one ladle-full is generally just right per muffin cup.
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Be sure to note the obnoxious rings around my burners. I have not found a cleaner yet that will take them completely off, and I can't use abrasives on my ceramic cooktop. So here they are, for your viewing pleasure. Hey, just keepin' it real.

Miss K loved her fancy "tea" party for breakfast. She opted for the royal hot chocolate with marshmallows instead of tea but that's OK. Aren't princesses allowed some concessions every now and then? We noshed with a tiara (of course), blanket spread on the floor like a "picnic", and an artful display of toy food from K's play kitchen, lovingly arranged by K herself.

I did question the plastic food replicas, but was informed in no uncertain terms that they needed to be there. Apparently I'm too gauche to know that play food is a required presence for all fancy tea party breakfasts. I really need to learn current hostessing etiquette...

Promises...

2010-03-06T14:08:00.000-08:00

The weather has all of a sudden turned fabulous, we should have highs in the 50's here tomorrow. On a sunny morning a few days ago I was walking our two dogs and reveling in the way the day felt. It was still cool, but the smell of the damp earth, combined with the angle of the sun and seeing the buds start to form on the trees, hinted and promised spring's doorstep.

I also have tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils just starting to poke their sleepy heads up above the surface in my front beds. That's a relief! I wasn't sure what my tenants left and didn't leave. So I'm at least guaranteed some spring flowers this year. If I can get some seeds I was given last fall to germinate, I'll have some nice beds this year (cross your fingers).

I was also laughed at when I was running errands today; I know it's only the 6th of March, but I picked up a handful of vegetable and herb seed packets. Some things, like tomatos and peppers, need to be started here in the next couple of weeks to be ready to set out in May. I scored several heirloom varieties of tomatos, carrots, and beans, so I'm excited to grow them this year! Not only can I save the seeds and not have to buy more next year, but this is also some of the same things my grandparents grew up with. There is a neat historical context to the whole thing.

We'll see how it all goes; I spent less than $13 on 22 seed packets. At least I know we'll be eating well come June/July timeframe...we just have to make it until then! (I'll be setting out spinach and lettuce in rigged cloches to get a jump start, since they're cool-growers anyway).

Promises of springtime, and promises of a bountiful harvest beckon.

Cooking Venture -- Blueberry Scones

2010-02-24T10:26:00.000-08:00

So, an idea I've been batting around for a while is incorporating some recipes into the ol' blog. I make up quite a lot of my own recipes, and tweak out other ones that I come across. I ain't no Pioneer Woman, but I do like to cook. And eat. And eat what I cook.

I have no idea what to call this project, or whether or not I want to devote a second blog or page to it. We'll just see how it goes!

This is what I made for breakfast this morning. My husband said that this is the right combination, and to keep this one, and that these are "the best ones [I've] ever made" -- so I figured I'd share it:

Blueberry Scones

2 1/4 cups flour
1/3 cup sugar
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
5 Tablespoons cold stick butter or margarine
1 tsp lemon zest
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 cup blueberries
1/2 cup white chocolate chips
1 egg
3/4 cup buttermilk plus a little extra
1/4 tsp lemon extract
1 tsp almond extract

Preheat oven to 425 deg F.

Mix together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Cut the butter into the flour mixture using a pastry cutter (2 knives works OK too). Mix in lemon zest and nutmeg.

Add blueberries, stir to coat with flour mixture, then add white chocolate chips. Add egg, 3/4 cup buttermilk, lemon extract, and almond extract. Mix well, making sure all the dry ingredients are incorporated. Mixture will be sticky and very moist.

Drop dough by spoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheet -- I got twelve scones on a half-sheet. Brush tops with a little buttermilk, taking care not to get milk all over your pan. (Trust me, it's a pain in the butt to get off once it's baked on there, and makes the scones stick like crazy). Sprinkle with sugar.

Bake at 425 for 15 to 17 minutes, more or less depending on your oven. My oven cooks a little slow, so you may want to back it off below 15 minutes. The end product should have browned peaks on top and be tender and fluffy in the middle. The other scones I make are a little more cakey, but these are a little lighter in texture.

Here's a picture of what's left; my husband took some to a staff meeting, and the kids helped me with the rest. Please excuse the photo quality!

Getting An Education

2010-02-21T15:13:00.001-08:00

A couple of...interesting... things have happened in the last couple of days:

First, my daughter has been learning about money. She has been consistently keeping her room neat and clean, puts away any toys in the living room when she's done with them, has kept her pants dry and clean pretty much all the time, and has started feeding the dogs unprompted. If she notices an empty dog food bowl, she refills it, all on her own. The black lab loves this little arrangement perhaps a bit too much...we had to switch to diet dog food.

Because K has been such a big girl, she has been earning a quarter here and there for extra special good jobs (we don't pay her for her normal every day responsibilities). K had accrued $4 by the time we went to the store, and wanted to take it to get something. She was so excited, she kept pulling her money out of her pocket to show to everyone we passed. This prompted a lot of gentle laughter from most, and I earned a few of those, "been there, done that" glances along with the smiles.

We walked by some hair bands that were pink, purple, and blue, and that was IT for K, she had to have them. Plus, she had just enough money to get them including tax. We milled around the store picking up the other items I needed to get, passing toys, coloring books, art supplies, all her usual likes. I asked her if she'd rather have [insert object here] instead, because she could only get one thing that day. Nope, she wanted the hair bands. All was good in K's world until we reached the check-out line. She kept trying to open the hair bands, and I kept telling her that we had to buy them first. K very proudly pulled out her dollars and gave them over so she could have her pretties.

That's when there was trouble in paradise.

You see, K did not understand why she couldn't have her money back from the cashier so she could ALSO go get a toy, and then some candy. By this point, the hair bands were already opened and K was approaching hysterics, with huge tears running down her face. She wanted her money back. She wanted a toy. She wanted her daddy. She did not want the hair bands any more.

I wavered for a second, wondering if I should return the hair bands and go get her something else. Then I realized that this lesson had to come any way, and it was never going to be an easy one at any time. K turns four in a month, so it was time. So, sobbing daughter and all, we stumbled noisily out of the Walmart and back to the car.

A note for all you ninjas out there: do not shop with a small child who just got their first financial lesson; you will instantly get every eye in the vicinity aimed in your direction and your cover will be blown. Good thing I'm not a ninja.

K howled all the way to the car. She howled in the car while I put the groceries in the back. She howled while I buckled her up. She howled while I put the key into the ignition and started the car. (Are we noticing a theme here?) K howled until I put her daddy on the phone, and he explained the same things that I had. Being a daddy's girl, she did stop and listen, big tears rolling down her little cheeks as she held the phone to her ear. She informed her daddy that, and I quote, she was "NOT HAPPY" in her tearful little voice. All of this affected her more than I would have thought. K even had bad dreams about it that night, Z and I were in there every hour or so listening to her yell, "I want a toyyyyyyyyyy!!!!" in her sleep.

It has taken us a couple of days to explain how this works to K. Z and I have come up with a cookie analogy to try to put it on her level. When you eat a cookie, it's gone. Then you have to go out and do something to get some dough, so you can do it again another time. Somewhat mollified, K has worn a couple of her headbands and gotten that proud/bashful at the same time look on her face when she preened in front of her daddy. I think we're going to be fine. Education can be a hard thing sometimes.

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The second interesting thing to happen to us in the last couple of days comes from our son, A. Due to Snopocalypse 2010 (45" of snow!), my son's class Valentine's Day party was postponed to this past Friday. I made A fill out each valentine; I simply told him which letter to write and put my finger down where he needed to make it. He can sign his name on his own. After he was done, I had him read the names to me. School has really helped him fine-tune his writing skills. It's still pretty messy, but it is (mostly) legible at this point, and what kindergartner has impeccable handwriting skills anyway? My own handwriting was messy on into my high school years.

So, here's where it gets interesting: I left A in the living room after we were finished with the valentines. I had cookies baking in the oven for his party and went to pull a pan out. A went back into the box of unused valentines and pulled out two more. He addressed one to "mom" and one to "dady" [sic] and signed his name.

So, so awesome...he's still largely non-verbal -- although he improves daily with verbal communication. This is a first, though!

And yes, I cried. Big ol' fat tears.

Look! A picture! Before March!

Making Up For Lost Time

2010-02-17T16:09:00.000-08:00

Daddy is home all day long right now.

The kids are eating it up.

I have seen more smiles on both of my kids' faces than I've seen collectively for a long time. They usually got to see him a total of 5 hours a week -- if work didn't call late after he got home.

A has been trying to play more, tickle more, and laugh more. He sang the entire song, "I Like To Move It, Move It" from Madagascar for us. Granted, it was garbled in his unique way, but we knew what he was doing. And it was precious.

He is also getting closer to hugging us. We can put our arms around A, but he very rarely reciprocates. His version of hugging is leaning on you for a second. Kisses are also making some progress: instead of keeping his mouth open and sliming our cheeks, he now actually closes his mouth and makes the "mwah" sound.

Potty training is still an ongoing challenge, although he will stay dry most of the time for us now. A is being made to clean up his own butt now, so we're hoping that will speed the need for clean underpants. He hates having anything on his hands, so we're hoping that is additional incentive to do his business in the toilet and not get it all over his bum.

Miss K has been shrieking with joy and laughter as she chases her daddy around, draws pictures for him, and sings him songs. She is a Daddy's Girl, through and through. She is also emulating the "Fancy Nancy" books. She has her own pen with a plume, has played dress-up all day long for the last 2 days, and I had to address her properly at lunch today: "Princess Artist K and her Royal Peanut Butter Sandwich". She corrected me when I told her mommy had to go back in the kitchen. "No, mommy, you're The Queen Mommy." I suspect some Britons might have an issue with that one, but we'll let it slide.

The dogs are also eating up all the extra attention; both of them are following my husband around from room to room and try to lay on his feet if he stops or sits down somewhere. He's forever tripping over them and the kids right now.

The good part is, even though we're not getting paid for anything at this point, Z is able to do a lot more with the youth ministry and worship. He's also designing websites and job hunting. (He used to own his own web design business about 9 years ago; 9/11 and the subsequent economic turn deep-sixed it.)

So we're grooving right along and just enjoying our time together.

Left Field

2010-02-15T17:46:00.000-08:00

We've had a bunch of things come out of left field over the last couple of weeks, rendering my blogging time nil.

The first dog, our Siberian Husky, had a nasty reaction to some medication and nearly died. We were discussing humane ways to put him down, it came to that. But he's fine now and stopped sending blood out both ends. He felt well enough to romp through the snow that's been falling.

Speaking of snow, that's the second thing we hadn't counted on. In a week's time, we received 3 inches shy of 4 FEET of snow! Our yard looks awesome, the kids are loving it (all the more so for being out of school for nearly 2 weeks), and my arms and legs are sore from shoveling our driveway. We don't own a snow blower, unless you count me huffing and puffing while I dig out with the shovel. Our driveway is 3 cars wide (which we did NOT clear all the way across), and goes past and behind our house to the garage. We also have sadistic snowplow drivers who come down the highway just when I'm finishing up the last bits, and leave me with another furrow to shovel out.

And it started snowing again today. We're not supposed to get much this time, though, and school is supposed to be back in session tomorrow. I hope so; I don't imagine anyone (teachers included) want to be in school in July.

The third thing that happened is that we are no longer employed. Anywhere, as of a week ago. So the hunting for a job begins, for both of us. The good thing is, we're pretty much taken care of through March -- we had finally gotten caught up from getting behind due to tenants, moving, and life, and paid some things in advance for some strange reason.

Ah, yes, and I finally caved and tried out that Facebook thingie. Just in time for them to make the format "new and improved" once I'd figured a few things out -- so finding 5 minutes here and there for that has made me neglect this blog, in between job hunting.

I'm hoping we're done with left field now, and can move to a place with a little more regular, normal action.

I Did It!

2010-01-27T11:12:00.000-08:00

Look! A post made this week! This resolution stuff is easy-peasy.

I should probably wait and reflect on this, say, in a couple of months and see if I'm still on target, but Hey! I'm revelling in my triumph at the moment.

My daughter is apparently one tough cookie; she started getting a runny nose on Saturday, was pretty miserable on Sunday, but woke up seemingly fine (read: bouncy and loud) Monday morning. At around 5 p.m. Monday evening, K sounded like she was breathing through mud, and I slept in the recliner with her all night so she could breathe without coughing up her spleen. I think I read somewhere that we need that organ for something. (Note: K actually slept; I dozed fitfully. K is extremely active in her sleep and I was elbowed, headbutted, and kicked all night long while I tried to keep her from pitching over the arm of the chair.) She wasn't running a fever, but she did mention that her right ear hurt.

Took her to the doc on Tues a.m. and she has a double ear infection: really bad nastiness on the right ear, and more moderate on the left. Her doc couldn't believe she wasn't running a fever with an infection like that, let alone not screaming her head off. K also sat quietly and watched the nurse give her a finger-stick, her only comment was after the nurse left when she said, "Mommy, my finger is sore now."

What a trooper! Childbirth and paying taxes should be easy for this one....

The Experiment

2010-01-19T07:16:00.000-08:00

Well. It's the 19th of January.

Don't ya just love it when some of your New Year's Resolutions have already dried up like the Sahara, mocking you as the vapors rise? Maybe it's just me.

So, updating the blog more regularly is one of those things that has already taken a hit. Heh. I'm going to shoot for writing something once a week and that might be more manageable with everything I've got going on. If I update it more frequently, then it's a bonus. I really enjoy recording life's little idiosyncrasies, but I just have to find the time. So, Deb? Prod me if I need it, I see you several times a week. But be gentle!

As far as my list of goals for December, I met nearly every one! The holidays were pretty relaxed for us. Christmas Dinner food? We did the pear and cherry crumble, but I still made the pumpkin pie per my husband's request. Request, complete with puppy dog eyes. (I get his puppy dog eyes so infrequently that they work every time he pulls out that particular weapon. A weakness of mine, I know).

The house fluctuates between perfectly straight, and absolute chaos with ankle-high toys and dog hair -- and it flip-flops several times a week. At least it changes! I've had to adjust daily goals based on the weather -- after getting five snows so far this year, if we get a nice, warm, sunny day then that is when I'm going outside to do the outdoor stuff. Hauling wood takes a while, especially if we have rain in the forecast -- I want to pull enough in under the porch roof to last a few days (sometimes up to a week), and give the rest some time to dry out before I need to use it. I'd also rather be out doing that on, say, a 40 degree day when it's sunny instead of a 26 degree day with 40 mph winds -- so I might do a little extra on those warmer days. I like the snow, but my screwed up hip doesn't.

It's on those outdoor work days that the interior quickly deteriorates. I haven't quite found that rhythm yet, which is kind of sad because I've been doing this housekeeping thing for several years now. You'd figure I'd be nearly done with my domestic goddess status, but it is so, so very not the case. So the whole house thing is still a resolution. I'm tempted to just make one list in January, laminate it, and bring it out every year as a part of the decoration for after Christmas because it seems like I have similar goals every year. I'll finally master a part of something, but the rest is still sitting there, waiting to be...resolved.

Another goal was that December Daily project, which I finally had to cave on because my camera just wasn't cooperating any more. The door had broken off and split into pieces over the battery compartment, and I had to mash it down after carefully fitting it back together so the metal contacts would connect correctly if I had a prayer of the camera working at all. This worked for all of about a week, and then it laid down and officially died. It might have even tried to send up a white flag, but I was too busy giving it a proper burial to notice. It's hard to do a project that requires daily photos when you can't take the photos.

But! My dear husband, who is observant, realized this and tada! I got a new little red camera for Christmas. What a good man, he knows I like to take pictures, and he also knows what my favorite color is. The new, functioning camera is tiny enough to slip into a pocket or a purse without any problems, so I can snap pics to my little heart's desire. I honestly don't know if I'll ever get back into the kind of photography that needs the variety of lenses, flash bars, and more than one aperture speed setting. I enjoyed using a camera like that through high school, college, and up until about ten years ago, but life is not so allowing for anything more than point-and-shoot right now. And that's OK -- I can capture lots of little moments on the fly this way.

So, in my OTHER part of the blog resolution, I am actually going to be posting some pictures. At some point. I'm not committing to anything, so I won't be quite so frustrated if it's, say, March when the first ones find their way into cyberspace.

Maybe that needs to be the over-arching resolution for this year: Don't set goals so specifically -- have a general goal and however it happens, it happens. I think that's backwards from most people I know, who have to have very specific steps to complete things. I set up the steps and when it doesn't happen in the order or the timeline that I want and then my internal freak setting starts hitting "ludicrous speed". ("They've gone to plaid!" Name that movie!) Maybe I just need to turn the internal stress ball down a notch (or forty-seven) and adopt a more laid-back approach.

Hmmm....so, does being laid-back have steps and a timeline?

Is less structure, more? That is this year's experiment. I'm already pretty unorganized, so this could get interesting as I'm not sure how much less structured I can be. It could also drive my husband nuts, because he's an interesting, enigmatic combination of relaxed and strict order.

Z is a very minimalist, sterile working environment kind of guy. (Seriously, his desk at work is completely devoid of anything -- whatever project he's working on gets put away before he pulls something else out, and it's all cleared before he leaves. He has a computer, a phone, and a single picture of the kids on a shelf somewhere. That's it. My work space, on the other hand...is a riot of color, art materials, and gardening magazines. I know where everything is and can find whatever you need, but YOU might not be able to find it -- and I have to move a stack of periodicals before I can paint.) He is very regimented in his approach to things -- but he is also over-all more laid-back than I am with life's curve balls. He just kind of takes things as they come, and then karate chops them into submission in a few short steps.

I see the steps to take, and then stuff happens that doesn't coincide with that particular timeline, and I stress because the ducks aren't walking in their straight line. No! The ducks are supposed to go this way! I'm flexible, mind; the ducks have the ability to bend to the correct path. : )

The fact that I realize this about myself lends a sort of irony to this whole experiment. I also realize that, for better or worse, this is just how I am, so this is at least beneficial in analyzing my reactions to things -- and actually does help temper my interactions with other people. Most of the time. (Keeping it real -- I might be known to overreact on occasion...but I do try to rein it in as soon as I realize what I'm doing -- but if the other party blames hormones, all bets are off).

As a side note, my daughter is such a drama queen. I have no idea where she gets it from.

Glimpses of Sunlight

2009-12-09T06:04:00.000-08:00

A has been making some great strides in some areas, and not-so-great strides in other areas. But, Hey! It's progress. A turned 6 about a month ago, and now:

A keeps his pants dry most of the time, now. As in, he's only wet maybe once or twice a week now, and he'll pee in the toilet. He very seldom volunteers to go, though, so we have to prompt him hourly to prevent accidents. He wears normal cotton undies at home, we're trying to get him used to them in the hopes that we'll transition to cotton undies all the time, even out in public. Thankfully, we have wood laminate flooring and vinyl flooring throughout a good portion of the downstairs, and the living room carpet is pretty old already and will be coming out soon (we hope) anyway -- so even when accidents happen, cleaning them up at home is no big deal other than the obvious gross factor. It's just something that we do, like washing dishes or vacuuming.

A still does not have a good control on his rectal sphincter, and commonly streaks in his undies (sometimes with a little extra) throughout the day. Pooping in the toilet is a rare event for us, his muscles just can't seem to do the required pushing all the time. Add in some constipation issues, and it's a recipe for all sorts of bathroom fun. And some occasional fun in other rooms, too. And a lot of laundry. I need to buy stock in the Chlorox corporation, I think I supply a good chunk of their annual profits and want some of it back.

Currently A wears night-time pants (normally used for nocturnal bed wetters) at school and at church, just because he does still have accidents if he's not prompted to go EVERY HOUR. This prompting is not always done by others when we're away from home, so we're trying to save A some embarrassment and prevent teasing or disgust from his classmates. Plus, we don't have enough pairs of pants for him to "go through" each day -- he's only got 5 pairs, total, including jeans and athletic pants. It is much easier on the (overworked) staff to change out underwear designed to hold the mess and keep the outside pants clean, than rinse out cotton undies and multiple pairs of jeans at school. And we can't afford for him to have 4 or 5 different pairs of pants for every day at school.

We still have to give verbal prompts every step of the way: A, go to the bathroom please. Pull your pants down and sit down on the toilet. Wipe your bottom (if needed). Put on your underwear, and then put on your pants. (He likes to strip his bottoms completely to use the toilet). Wash your hands.

We can't give him the entire list of prompts at once; he gets "stuck" on the toilet and waits for a verbal command to wipe his butt, or to put his clothes back on. But he's doing it! The butt wiping is something fairly new that we've been trying, and so far it's had mixed results. A doesn't have good hand dexterity or fine motor skills, so holding toilet paper is difficult for him at the necessary angle to get the job done. He also has a tendency to do some fecal smearing on the walls, his legs, or the toilet seat if he gets any on his hands. It's good that he doesn't want the poop on his hands, but we just haven't been able to convince him to finish up and we'll wash our hands when we finish. (Which we always do anyway).

I usually have to clean up the very last traces that he can't see or reach on his bottom, but he does get most of it cleaned up himself. He also has to clean the "brown artwork", if any, off the walls or toilet seat with a disinfectant wipe. (Again, I generally have to go behind him and finish up). It would be much faster if I did it all for him, but he really needs to learn how to clean up after himself -- and how to do it the right way. Even if it takes a while.

A also still needs help fastening buttons and zippers on his pants. It has not been easy for us to find elastic-waisted jeans for a boy that can wear size 7's in length but is skinny enough for a size 6 -- even slims fall off his butt. I know they're out there, we just haven't found any that work for us yet. So, he wears "normal" zip-fly, button at the waist jeans but has to have assistance getting them on and off. Likewise with the zipper on his winter coat, and tying shoelaces.

A has been doing much better with his writing skills -- he brought home a sheet of paper on Monday that quite legibly said, "I like to read books mommy." I think that one will be kept in a special place, it's the first time we've had anything hand-written that was that clear. He spells things all the time with plastic letters on the fridge, or with the computer, but this is actual writing. With a pencil. His behavior at school is better some days, worse others. A does not like transitions, and he does not like taking turns. Everyone is supposed to do everything in the same order, always, and since A was first at the start of the school year, he still expects to be first to do everything. He's getting educated otherwise, but he's giving the teacher and his aide fits while he's learning it.

I have to be careful with the foods I send for A for his school lunches. Everything needs to be easy to open, and ready to eat. I can't send a whole apple, I have to slice it up and core it or he'll eat the entire thing. I have to cut his sandwich in half to make it easier to pick up, and peel oranges and separate the pieces. If there is a banana, I start the peel at the top so he can grab it and finish. None of those reusable containers work for him, A just can't open them; I use the fold-top plastic sandwich baggies. Not the most environmentally-friendly choice, but it's what needs to happen right now. He does have a reusable thermos for his water, with an easy push-button opening lid.

I still have to cut up his food for him, he can't handle cutting with a knife and fork nor can he just use a fork to cut when necessary. He has gotten a lot better with his spoon usage, he spills very little now. A had a problem with dumping the food halfway to his mouth because he didn't know how to hold the utensils without grasping them completely in his fist, and he'd turn the spoon over trying to get it into his mouth. He still has his textural issues with soups and cereal with milk on it -- he absolutely refuses to eat them. I generally drain as much liquid out of soups as I can before giving him his serving and just give him his cereal dry. He also does not like the flavor of mayonnaise, sour cream or cream cheese (unless it's in a cheesecake) and won't eat certain salads if they look white. This includes tuna, chicken, or fruits. He will eat whipped cream, but usually only if you make him take a bite of it and he figures out that he likes it at that point.

Verbally, we are getting more words out of him than ever before. He saw the leftover snow on Saturday (2 inches) and came up to me late in the afternoon and said, "Red. Boots are red. Put on? Put on green coat. Go outside. Play snow?" Thrilling!!!!!

We don't generally get more than two, maybe three words together at a time. This was a whole paragraph! And yes, we all went outside to play in the snow. A can't make snowballs with his hands, so I have to scoop up some snow and help him form them, hand over hand. He does take great delight in dumping the snow on his sister's head while snickering, so there's something that is refreshingly funny.

We can tell that many of A's brain processes are pretty typical, even if he doesn't talk a lot and has some fine motor skill challenges. He's also got a mischievous streak a mile wide. For example, K fell asleep on the couch yesterday afternoon and A walked over there, looked at her, and began tickling her. She cracked one eye open and screeched, to which A responded with a cocky grin and a chortle. He tickled her again, and K threw out a punch that A dodged easily. Then he whalloped her with a throw pillow. At this point, K is getting more and more upset because all she wants to do is take a nap. A and K got into an all-out fight, complete with feet, pillow whomps, and grappling.

Z and I actually stood back and watched it for a minute before splitting the would-be WWE contenders up, just to revel in the weirdness of what would usually be considered the normalcy for siblings. We stood at the doorway so we could duck out of sight and crack up when we needed to. And of course we stepped in when it became apparent that the kicks and pillows were becoming a tad more forceful and the expressions on both kids' faces started becoming more...determined. I didn't want a UFC experience in my living room, so they were quickly sent to opposite ends of the room to cool off.

Another new development is A's radio. Z's parents got a small CD player/radio for A's birthday, and he loves it. I've taught him how to turn it on, and how to push "play". We haven't quite gotten how to change out CDs yet, but that will come. He listens to his radio all the time. This is great! I'm hoping to get him used to headphones, so we can take a walkman or something with us when we're out around a lot of people. (Shoot, do they even MAKE walkmans any more? We'll get whatever the current thingamabob is. I-Pod?) If we've got music, maybe he won't freak out so much at events like, well, going to the mall.

I know a lady with a 12-yr-old son on the spectrum, and this really works well with her son. She's happy because she can go shopping or take the family to the park for Independence Day, and he doesn't freak out as long as they have his music going. They do take a lot of extra batteries, just in case. We're going to give it a try with A, I just have to figure out how to get him used to headphones. And I also have to find some that are durable enough to withstand A ripping them off initially. Forget the earbuds, we just need the old-fashioned on-ear kind.

I don't know if this would work on an airplane? I know you have to turn off certain electronics for take-off and landing, but don't know if an I-pod would be on that list. I haven't flown in years, so some research is in order. Z and I have been discussing vacation times and seeing family, which are spread from CA to TX to GA. We'd have more visiting time and less travel time if we flew rather than drove, but I really don't know how A would react to the noise and being in close confines with a lot of people. That's at least a year out at this point so we've got plenty of time to figure it all out.

Bottom line is, we're making progress every day. The storms are still there, but we're seeing those gorgeous rays of sun break though at the most unexpected times, and we're enjoying getting to know our son every day.

Confessions of a Wuss

2009-12-09T04:45:00.001-08:00

Yay!! We got our hot water back yesterday around lunch time, after a week of "camping out"!!

I've never been so glad to be a wuss in my life.

BOTH of the heating elements in the water heater were toast, and when the plumber pulled them out I could have sworn that I was on a National Geographic special. They looked like something that had been under the ocean for years -- rainbow mineral deposits galore, and the metal had actually been eaten away in several places. If I didn't know they were heating elements for my water heater, I'd probably call Jacques Cousteau's grandson in to take a look at it and identify it for me. Yikes! Our water is very mineral-laden here, especially with calcium and limestone. The water heater was put in before the conditioning system was put into place -- so a lot of damage occurred in just a few years.

But we have new elements in there, and nice running hot water that makes showers possible and washing dishes much more easy. It's not that boiling water to wash dishes is difficult (put it on the stove for a few minutes until it boils, then pour into the sink), it's just a lot easier to refresh the dish pan if hot water is available out of the tap. I guess I'm just a modern, spoiled girl.

But never fear! I'm still having pioneer experiences. Learning the ropes with this wood stove hasn't been as hard as I thought, but there is the labor aspect of hauling the wood. We got a delivery of 2 cords of wood on Monday, dumped unceremoniously in our driveway by the garage. The stacked wood pile is through a narrow gate on the other side of a short fence. I was on a time limit to get it all put up: freezing rain was supposed to start around lunchtime on Tuesday. Z's back is shot, so I wanted to get it all done before he was home. I didn't want to create any more pain for him, his 4 hours commute each day (round trip) is already killing him -- and he's stubborn enough to get in there and haul wood anyway. I was DETERMINED to get it all done. And I did.

Oh, I am a foolish mortal.

I had no wagon or wheelbarrow, nor could I get anything rigged up to drag or roll the wood through there, so I did it the old-fashioned way: I hand carried every single piece of wood to their respective piles. Let me just tell you, if you don't know how much wood makes up 2 cords, that it is a lot of wood to have to stack. A single full cord of wood is roughly 8 feet long, by 4 feet deep, by 4 feet high. The delivered pile, in which the logs were sticking out in every direction possible, was taller than I am and longer than it was tall. Of course, I'm not very tall either... We actually received a little more than two cords, I had enough to stack two cords' worth, make new end caps for the second cord's stack, and put some additional wood in the mudroom for a dry, easy morning supply before it was all put away.

Some of the wood was fresher and needed some more time to dry out before we burn it, so that all went on the far pile. The more seasoned stuff went on the closer pile. It took me five pretty much non-stop hours on Monday to move it (until it got too dark to see), and an additional hour on Tuesday morning before the rains came to get it all done. I can only carry a couple of logs at a time (more wuss confession), and this load was not split down very far. Eighteen inches of solid wood can be heavy, especially if it's a fresh tree that is almost as fat as it is long. My word. Those pioneer women all look pretty normal in the old photographs I've seen. If they did this kind of work all the time, you'd figure they'd give Arnold Schwarzenegger a run for his money!

During this process, I frequently thought of my high school language teacher (she taught French, Spanish, and German but threw in a smattering of Italian and Russian just because). Mrs. Van E was from Switzerland, but moved to this country when she was 15 or 16 years old. She only knew two phrases in English when she arrived, and they both apply here: "Oh, my aching back!" and "Son of a -----!"

MORE wuss confession: I don't care for mice. Oh, they're cute, and I couldn't physically send one to that great cheese wheel in the sky, but I don't like them in my house. We had no real issues with them last year (except for that one oddball discovery last June), but we also kept the grass pretty short around the house. This year, the tenants apparently cut the grass only a couple of times the entire summer -- which just happened to be a pretty cool, wet summer. Tall grass all the way up to the house + a hole up by the roof = mouse trouble.

After hearing the cute, fuzzy little disease-spreaders scampering about in the eaves and overhead on the acoustic tile ceilings, Z put some D-Con way back in one of the eaves (out of reach of kids and dogs). Our mice are smart little boogers and know how to trip conventional mousetraps without getting caught. I have not discovered any nibbled items in the pantry as of yet, but we figured we'd take preventative measures.

We have since learned that the D-Con does indeed work: we found one dead mouse behind the woodstove, and recently discovered another one in my son's room. In the ceiling. I had smelled something funky in there a few days ago, but thought it was just his socks and shoes (boy's got some strong foot odor -- and has since he was just a little baby). Fast-forward a few days, and it's definitely not his shoes. Or his bed, no accidents there. Or the carpet. I finally figured out that the stench was coming from the ceiling or the walls. I have to admit, I was relieved to discover that even using the little step ladder I have, I was still too short to see up in the ceiling and had to let my husband do it. Darn!

So -- two knowns disposed of; I think there's another one in a wall somewhere, though, because the smell is starting to get stronger and there aren't any more in the ceiling that we can see. I thought D-Con had something in it to prevent bad smells from dead critters? That may just be my imagination, though.

Eschk. I'd almost rather deal with scampering than this smell, but what's done is done.

Running Hot Water is for Wusses

2009-12-03T09:28:00.000-08:00

Well, not really. But saying that makes me feel better.

Our hot water heater died sometime between 11:30 Tuesday night (when I got my shower) and 4:15 Wednesday morning, when my husband got up and tried to take a shower before work. There's nothing quite like freezing water pulled up from a well to wake you up quickly. There's also nothing quite like freezing water pulled up from a well to make your husband yip in a really funny manner.

I have come to the conclusion that difficult things can sometimes seem less...epic...if one has a full belly. Or if one ingests a lot of chocolate. Sometimes both. So, after downing some breakfast (only!), I was a good hot water heater owner and read the handy dandy instruction manual that came with the water heater, and did all the trouble-shooting suggestions listed on the page. (By the way, did you know that each month you're apparently supposed to release a few gallons of water out of the top "pressure relief valve", and also drain a few quarts from the bottom if you have very hard water to keep sediment from building up in the tank? I sure didn't.)

After fiddling with the breakers, hitting the "reset" button, and checking both temperature settings (our heater has two), I called the manufacturer who suggested I do the same things I'd already done. Then they said to call a repair person, because this is going to take some work -- they can ship parts to me via 3-day mail once we determine what's going on, but also that there is a good chance that it will need to be replaced. It was at this point that the chocolate came into play. This model apparently has been known to "tank" after the warranty has expired, but before 10 years is up. Yeah, I know. "Tank". I went there. Our water heater was installed January of 2004.

We'll find out more hopefully tomorrow, after we get paid and get someone out here to look at the darned thing.

In the meantime, I'm (semi) pioneering it. We have the benefit of running water, at least, so no hiking down to the "crik" that's a mile away and hauling it back. The water pumped out of our ground seems to be a direct line from, oh, Siberia, so we have to heat it on the cooking stove or the woodstove before attempting some mundane housekeeping. I have figured out that:

Dishes take 3 boiling tea kettles of water plus some cold from the well, one kettle per side of the sink and the third split between the two to "refresh" the heat halfway through the job. And you have to get those dishes done pretty quickly.

Baths require boiling a tea kettle, a 4-qt dutch oven, and a gigantazoid 30(?)-quart stock pot full of boiling water for a nice, warm bath -- plus a little cold well water to temper it. Not hot, but at least warm enough to get the job done. Beats the alternative, which is shivering hard enough to knock the soap off the ledge while trying to grab it. Just sayin'.

And yeah, I do it the old-fashioned way of plunking one kiddo in the tub, giving them a quick scrub, and then plunking the next one in right afterward. Probably not a good practice to do long-term because of germies, but it gets the job done temporarily. I can't reheat water right away because the arctic tundra water coming straight out of the faucet will warp the hot pans if I don't let the pans cool down first, and then I have to warm the water to room temperature. I can't put the pots straight onto the heat after filling them for the same reason -- not even the cast iron.

This is all a little weird, but I'm finding my rhythm with it (this is water heaterless day #2) and it's really not that hard. I do have an appreciation for all those pioneer ladies that did this day in and day out, though. It takes some serious timing to get everything done in a day! At least I don't have to do laundry this way; I always use cold water in my machine anyway.

So, we're kind of roughing it. With electricity and running water. Heh. It is actually interesting, as long as it's a short-term issue. I'm remembering all my Little House on the Prairie books, and other historical books from the Early American period, and am fascinated by this. Again, temporarily.

I do love me a hot shower.

Pioneeringly yours,
~ J

Endearing

2009-12-01T06:07:00.000-08:00

My husband is an awesome daddy. He just spent the last four days off of work, and took a lot of time to just be silly with the kids.

He could have holed up in the office with the computer, which he likes to do sometimes. He could have holed up in a room with his guitar and written some music, which he also likes to do sometimes. If he had his hunter's license this year, he could have been out looking for Bambi. Instead, he chilled with the urchins the entire holiday weekend. And they ate it up, of course. K is a real "Daddy's Girl".

He chased them around the house (usually with one or both dogs leaping around and through them), tickled them until they couldn't breathe, and made up goofy songs just to see them laugh and hear K go, "Daaaadddyyyy!!"

He dragged out the Christmas tree and put it up, per K's request, on Friday and put it together. He even fluffed the branches, a task he generally hates to do because it's tedious. But he did it, because K looked at him with those puppy dog eyes she can get, and she helped him. A watched that process for a few minutes, and then went to grab a book to snuggle in on the couch.

He read books to both kids, let K help him stoke the fire (while mommy about had a heart attack -- there's FLAMES in there, honey!), and threw popcorn up in the air so the dogs could catch it and make the kids laugh.

There is something in me that just melts when I see my man willing to wear dress-up hats and a bead necklace while K prances around in her fairy wings, a crown, and sneakers; or getting down on the floor to play with A's cars or characters from Toy Story. Warm, fuzzy, endearment.

Love it. And Him.

I shall now scoop my mushy puddle-of-goo self off the keyboard and get about today's tasks.

As soon as I solidify again.

This ends the sappy portion of the day; tomorrow's forecast should be drier. Thank You.

December Projects

2009-11-30T07:12:00.000-08:00

We had a lovely Thanksgiving! It was nice to have Z home for four days, the kiddos absolutely ate it up. It was a loud four days! At one point when my head was pounding and my eyesight was starting to shimmer, I told K, "You know you don't have to scream and shriek while you're playing, right?" She stopped abruptly and looked at me, puzzled. "But mommy....yes, I do!" Ol' Santa needs to bring me a year's supply of ear plugs, or at least a supply that will last until K learns what an "inside voice" is. We're working on it.

At K's request, our Christmas tree is already up...I was planning to wait until the first weekend in December, but I looked into my 3-yr-old's beseeching eyes on Friday and folded like lawn furniture. (Actually, her dad was in on the caving, too, so I had company). Whatever, she won't be three forever. The tree does look rather nice and festive, complete with colorful clumps where the kids hung their own ornaments. Why space them out when you can hang six on one branch, right?

So...the tree is done, but there are still some things I'd like to do this month. I figure if I list them here where other people can see (some of whom visit my house), I'll be more motivated to actually get them done.

December list, 2009:
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1) Finish decorating house. I have to find new homes for my Christmas decor, mostly because I don't like to do the same thing two years in a row, but also because I don't have a lot of the furniture that I used to (got rid of a lot moving twice in 6 months) so flat surfaces are few this year. We put up extra strings of lights in the kids' rooms, and A and K are soooo much fun to watch when we turn them on. Childlike wonder and awe are so breathtakingly beautiful to see, especially when they're your own urchins.

2) Figure out the "sweet spots" with the woodstove's flue damper and air intake. See the previous post.

3) Create a December Daily album, like this one. I like the idea of jotting down a little something of each day until Christmas, starting December first, and pair it with a picture or two. There is no way I have time to sit down every day to complete that day's section, though, so what I'll probably do is take a picture every day and write down something in a notebook, and get to the project later after the holidays are over. For me, this will probably be, like, June. I like the eclectic, collage style of this particular project and look forward to coming up with my own unique ways to create pages out of unusual materials (envelopes, part of a partially eaten winter hat (thanks dogs), etc). And it's a neat way to look back at that year's holiday since I know my kiddos won't be little forever.

4) Take time to enjoy the season, and chill. I don't typically get caught up in the hectic busy-ness that seems to plague a lot of people this time of year. That isn't to say that I don't stress over some things, perfectionist wench that I am, but we don't host Christmas parties at our house (A doesn't handle large noisy crowds well), we live too far away from family to have their presence a regular occurance (last year was the exception, we had family from both sides stay with us) and we don't gear up for mall warfare and commando shopping 1) because we like to keep it simple, 2) again, A can't handle crowds like that, and 3) because we don't have the funds to do so anyway.

This is not to disparage those that engage in those activities, I love parties, and I love shopping. The Lord knows if we had funding I'd be getting something for everyone I know, I always see things for other people on the rare occasion I actually enter that shrine to shopping, the mall. The thrill of the hunt! The adrenaline rush of having something new! The sound of the cash register ri-- Confession time: OK, so, I'm not a shopaholic, but I can see myself doing that easily, given the opportunity. God? Please??

I do have a tendency to get caught up in the minutia of daily life, though, and really do need to just relax sometimes.

5) Try something(s) new for Christmas dinner. We always do the things traditional to our family backgrounds: turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, etc. The menu for Thanksgiving and Christmas are actually identical most years, and I want to change that this year. Shake things up. It doesn't have to be flamboyant or fancy, it can be a simple thing -- but I do want it to be a special addition because Christmas is a celebration. I don't know if that means making a different dessert than pumpkin pie (I'm thinking either my great-great-aunt's coconut pie or a pear-cherry crumble), or if I need to shake up the side dishes a bit. Turnip gratin? Corn souffle? I've got nearly a month to figure that out. So I guess that means I should start now so it's done by Christmas.

6) Keeping tidy. For those of you that know me and have been to my house, you know that I have clung to a certain Victorian ideal in the past. Victorian homes were clean, but they had clutter. Many families passed down houses full of furniture and knickknacks for generations -- and each generation added its own knick knacks to make the home "theirs". More is more, right? Packrats of the world, unite! And all that. So, in an unprecedented assault on my treasures (do I really need this? Have I used it in the last year? Five years?) I've killed (most of) the clutter, although the mail does tend to congregate by the front door. The usual dumping ground is on the rolling dishwasher, the flat surface that's the closest. There's usually one day during the week when I do a double-take at the pile...I swear, sometimes I think the mail reproduces on my dishwasher. Most unsanitary. I have heard the "handle once" philosophy, wherein you get the mail out of the mailbox, immediately throw out the junk mail, and sort the bills to be paid. *snort* That hasn't worked out in my favor, yet, but I'll keep trying.

But I digress. We are clean, for the most part (a pair of my son's socks discovered under the bed recently notwithstanding), just largely untidy. I tend to pick up an item to put it away, go into the next room, see something else that needs done, drift into yet another room. By the end of the day, I haven't sat down except to eat, but nothing is actually completed. I have tried the "basket technique", where you gather everything that doesn't belong in a room and tote it all at once to the next room, but the basket fills up in each subsequent room and it never quite gets emptied. My three-year-old loves to help me, so it takes a bit longer. More than twice as long. It's good that she's learning to be a good steward of her stuff, but there are some days my patience stretches thin. That's usually when my husband arrives home, the house is in shambles, and I get the urge for a drink (even though I don't do that any more).

A Domestic Goddess, I ain't. I really do feel awkward about the chaos in my home, and want to get a handle on it. Somewhere, there is a book (possibly more than one) that states something to the effect of, it takes a month to build a habit. I'd really like to batten down the hatches, ready arms, rattle the spears, and [insert battle phrase here] this month in an effort to beat this. That way, if someone shows up unexpectedly, Blitzkrieg cleaning of the few random toys is so much easier to achieve and I don't stress out. In theory.
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So, that's this year's list. Not overly ambitious, but it will take work nevertheless. And it's now posted in cyberspace for the two people who read this to see, so now I have to do it. Right?

The Great Woodstove Adventure

2009-11-30T06:37:00.001-08:00

As the saying goes, 'Where there's smoke, there's a fire!"

Let me regale you with The Great Woodstove Adventure:

We got all the remaining parts and tools in on Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and my pyromaniac hubby decided that he simply HAD to put it all together and get it working after church that night...of course he did...so he started messing with it while I got some preliminary Thanksgiving cooking out of the way: cranberry sauce, biscuits and cornbread to go in the dressing, jello salad, etc. I try to do some of the baking, like pies and fresh sweet potatoes, the night before to make the next day just a smidgen less hectic. It makes it much easier to get the other dishes ready to slide into the oven as soon as the bird comes out if I don't have to juggle pies or components of the finished dishes (like the cornbread) too.

I could hear the scraping of the pipe as it was put together and drilling sounds emanating from the living room while I puttered around the kitchen for a couple of hours. I decided that I was tired and poked my head in the living room before heading upstairs. My dear husband, with a gleeful expression, was still intently working on getting everything lined up with the chimney. He was so cute, he looked like a little boy with a new toy. In retrospect, this observation may not be so far off...what's that saying? "The only difference between men and boys is the price of their toys?" Something like that.

So, my husband was still tinkering with the thing when I went to bed around 11:45 p.m., only to be awakened about 20 minutes later to the unfamiliar, insistent screeching of the upstairs smoke alarm and a terrible chemical smell. I turned on my bedside lamp and saw that my room was full of smoke, yelped (yes, I yelped), and in my still-half-asleep state was poised to dash across the hall, snatch my daughter out of her room, and do something dramatic like dive through the second-story window, letting my body cushion her fall -- when my husband ran by the foot of the stairs and yelled that everything was OK, there was no fire in the house it was just the stovepipe. Just the stovepipe? How was metal on fire? What?

I blinked a couple of times, just to wake up fully, coughed, and made my way down the (smoky) stairs to find out what in tarnation was going on. The issue was a simple one, apparently, but us being woodstove newbies didn't know all the subtle nuances of the art of the woodstove. Or, apparently, its pipes. It would seem that brand new stovepipe has a coating on it that is supposed to come off, yes, but my hubby (did I mention that he's a pyro?) built the hottest fire he could (of course he did) and as a result, ALL of the stovepipe coating came off...at once. And because it was external coating, all that smoke and fumes had no way to get out through the chimney, so it filled the house instead.

I will say, that stove puts off some heat! We had the front door wide open, letting the 36 degree air (and windchill in the 20's) pour in -- and our thermostat (located on the wall at the foot of the stairs by the door) still read 79 degrees. A few stragetically placed fans and open windows later, our house was smoke- and stench-free. My husband decided he was sleeping on the couch, just to keep an eye on things and make sure nothing bad happened. His choice, mind, I don't make my husband sleep on the couch if I'm upset with him -- and I wasn't really upset with him, just exasperated and wondering why this couldn't have waited for daylight the next day...but what was done was done and there was no use getting mad if I'd wanted to.

*cough*

So, it's up and running, really isn't that difficult to use, and heats our house better than the oil furnace-driven central heat did! The downstairs heated nicely with the central heat, but the vents upstairs were always anemic and our room was always freezing. Plus, we never raised the thermostat above 64ish in the winter just to keep the costs down (we were spending about $3,000 on heat last year).

Not any more! Thanks to the woodstove, the whole house stays between 71 and 74, upstairs stays about 69. That little woodstove heats the upstairs better than the "superior" central heating system did! Now we just have to figure out the best positions for the draft and air intake, to let it burn as long as it can overnight.

The only hassle with the thing is that it tends to burn down after about 3 or 4 hours. This is no biggie during the day, I just chuck a log on there every couple of hours or so...but we have to stoke the fire and rebuild it if we get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. This is easy if there are a lot of hot coals, it takes like 5 minutes to get a roaring fire again and is no big deal. My Girl Scout camping trips are paying off. But. It's frustrating if there aren't any coals to speak of, it's 3:00 in the morning, and you have to coax a new fire to start from scratch and the tinder refuses to stay lit, so you don't get back to bed for a half-hour. Like this morning.

Since we're still new to the whole process, we are just going to have to learn the idiosyncracies of this particular stove to get it right, and hopefully we won't have any more evil glaring at the stove in the wee hours of the morning.

Here's to a new adventure! May we stay warm and toasty without becoming crispy critters. Laura Ingalls Wilder could do it, so I should be able to do it, right?

A Thankful Heart

2009-11-24T05:42:00.000-08:00

I must confess, I've had kind of a rough time over the last few days.

God has this unique way of putting things into perspective.

After my last post, regarding all the things I'd like to fix up in our home, I had to help create a presentation for my husband, to be shown this week at church during the Youth Takeover Sunday. This presentation shows photos of times when it's hard to understand where God is in the situation (even though we know He's everywhere), and includes pictures of houses burning to the ground, our troops in the Middle East with fallen soldiers, street children in the Phillipines, and starving children in Africa. The message one of our college-aged students will be giving is titled, "Our God, His Love".

I had to comb through the photos to make sure they weren't too graphic because we will have 5-yr-olds present when they're being shown on the screen. By the time I was done gathering the requested images, I felt like I'd been through a wringer on an old-fashioned washing machine. One particular image (that could not be used for this presentation) is still indelibly burned into my brain. I won't share the link, but the gist is starving people will eat anything, even if it means holding onto the back of a living animal to get it. And then my husband came home from work early for a doctor's appointment and brought me McDonald's for lunch. I choked on it while I was trying to eat it, and then had to go upstairs for a good bawling session. For the next two days every time I saw a cow, I'd start tearing up again. And I live out in the country, so you can just imagine. I know that if my human heart was breaking over the world situations, then God's heart must be so much exponentially more pained.

I think we Americans are so unbelievably blessed, and we've been spoiled to the point that we take a lot of things for granted. Even the poorest and homeless here in this country have it better than a lot of people that live in other countries around the world.

I have seen images like these before, and know the situations, and we do what we can to support relief efforts. They always touch my heart and make me upset that I can't just go to their countries, pack them all in my suitcase, and bring them home with me. We don't always have a lot of extra ourselves and have felt leanness from time to time, but we still also know that we have so much more than a lot of others around the world. And we're grateful for it.

I think the reason that this time has hit me so particularly hard is that my husband and I have been discussing adopting another child. So to see all these children in these conditions, after having recent discussions about adopting one to take it out of that type of situation, really made hamburger out of my heart. If we want more children, adopting is the way to go, and while we realize that there are a lot of children that need families here in our country, we also realize that the American kids -- even those who are in poverty by American standards -- are so much better off than a lot of international kids are.

I have some issues in the birthing department; we have lost several babies due to miscarriages, and I almost died the first time and had severe complications the second time I actually carried our two living kids to full term. A friend recently asked if I was pregnant again, to which I responded, "NO! I'd be crying if I was." Not because I'd be upset to have another kid at this point, but because I do have a habit of losing them and/or have the chance to die if I'm pregnant and I just really don't want to/can't go through that any more. I admire people who are foster parents, but I know that I could never do it -- to keep a child for a short time and give them up again would tear me up every time I had to do it, very probably because I have lost a few of our own. So....adoption, at some future point.

Through all this, I also feel deeply ashamed for feeling frustrated with our house, which by any other country's standards would be considered fabulous. Perspective, perspective.

We are still going to be doing the eventual renovations to the home, and we will still be working on adopting at least one more child (we have to do some of the renovations before we can even think about more kids, though). I also know that we are blessed to live where we are, with the provisions we have -- and to deny receiving those blessings isn't right, either. While I am always thankful for the blessings we are given, I think perhaps that these last few days will provide a more lasting...reminder for me. It is good to have a reminder every now and then, lest we become complacent or spoiled. Like I apparently have become, without realizing it.

This week is our Thanksgiving celebration. What are YOU thankful for?

House Overview

2009-11-19T09:43:00.000-08:00

We purchased this home, 1) because it was the only thing in our price range that let us have a home with a yard for the kids and dog, now dogs (our other option was an area of downtown that was not desirable from a safety perspective), 2) because it was very close to the church and community that we are actively involved in, and 3) because it was a fixer-upper and we like a challenge.

Good thing! Because we're challenged now. I have actually dithered over whether or not to do a post like this. I don't want to sound like we're complaining, and I know the written word does not have the same communicative punch that a one-on-one conversation complete with facial expressions has. Quite simply, working on this house will probably be a very large part of our lives for a very long time so I'm going to share what we'll be working on. This blog will, in addition to following A's challenges, also follow our home improvement saga -- if for nothing else then to have something that indicates progress, for those occasions when I want to dash my head against a wall, in tears over the frustration of living in drywall dust, paint spills, and cooking over a hot plate while we re-do the kitchen...whenever that happens. I don't know anyone who has attempted a renovation (large or small) that hasn't wanted to cry or choke something at some point in the process. I'm sure people exist whose renovations went perfectly, but I don't know any of them.

This home has beautiful potential, and we really do love it. The view across the street of the mountains is stellar, we have just over 1/2 acre of land that I can hopefully garden on soon, with room leftover for kids and dogs to play. The bones of the house are good, although there are a few minor cosmetic issues that we thought were just that: cosmetic. We love the space inside, if not the exact layout, and it keeps the rain out. We have been so blessed living here, the kids love the backyard (as do our dogs). It is located conveniently to pretty much any amenity we could wish for, within 10 minutes. This includes our church, friends' houses, movie theatres, the grocery store, and parks and fishing holes. There are some things that we have noticed, though...

In our last year and a half, we have discovered that: we blow through a nearly 300-gallon tank of heating oil in a month -- keeping the temp at 65 degrees or lower. This was confounding to say the least; we could understand if we were trying to simulate the Sahara, but 65 degrees? Z and I couldn't figure out why it was so cold all the time when we were burning through that much heating oil, and then so darned hot once summertime came and soon discovered the reason.

We never did get that second load of insulation, and we can't fit any of it in at the top of the stairs because of the way the wooden beamwork is over the metal acoustic tile grid -- much of our heat still goes right on up and out the roof. We do have the R-19 stuff over the bedrooms, though, which helps a lot. We have discovered that using electric space heaters, we can effectively heat individual rooms OK. The mommy in me cringes to leave one on in either of my kids' (OK, they're still my babies) rooms overnight, though, and we only have two heaters. We usually put one on each floor of the house, and then I cook or bake during the day, adding heat from the kitchen.

This is why the acquisition of a woodstove is such an enormous blessing! We have calculated, based on neighbors' wood consumptions, that we can heat the house the entire winter for a total cost of $330 in logs, give or take a few (and adding the cost of getting the woodstove and accessories needed like stovepipe, etc). $330 sure beats the heck out of over $3,000, especially with our cash flow these days! I know it's "inconvenient", but I'll deal with the ash and constant reloading; besides which, humans have been doing this for thousands of years so I figure I can handle it. Plus, bonus: if the power goes out, we still have heat and I can cook on top of the thing. We won't have running water, but we'll stay warm and be fed while we stink from a lack of showering. : )

We have also discovered that: all the electricity in the house is "slaved" off other appliances and outlets in the room, sometimes multiple rooms. For example, we can not run the overhead light in the living room if the ceiling fan in the kitchen is on. And my son's closet light can only be turned on IF the overhead room light is in the "on" position and you unscrew its bulb before you screw in the closet light to turn it on. The reverse is also true. Also, if you run the microwave in the kitchen off of two particular outlets and the television is on in the living room, you'll blow the fuse. Our electric wiring and box have inspection stickers slapped all over it but no inspector number or name...someone did a "Harry Homejob" (as Z and I are starting to call these things) and got a roll of stickers somehow. As the inspector said, though, "It's not unsafe...just not practical". So, we don't have to deal with potentially lethal consequences, just fuse-blowing irritation. So at some point, you will be regaled with rewiring stories. Yes, "stories", because undoubtedly there will be more than one.

Moving on to the ceilings: the acoustic tile ceilings in a metal grid are purely a cosmetic dislike. Do they stop the room at the top of the walls? Yes. Do they look like the playing field for some sort of space-aged game, or hopelessly outdated relics of the 1960's? Yes to both. So at some point, likely after we get the wiring done, we'll tackle putting up real, live drywall on the ceilings. Of the non-popcorn variety.

We'd also really like to raise the ceiling height upstairs, because my 6'+ (some days he's an inch taller than others, depends on his back) can walk through the doorways with a mere inch or two to spare. All of the upstairs ceilings are between 6' and 6'5". This doesn't particularly bother me, because I'm only 5'4", but it is a little weird to see your otherwise "normally heighthed" (is that a real word?)husband look like the giant from Gulliver's Travels when he enters a room. And he unconsciously ducks through most of the doorways, even though he clears the frame by an inch or so.

All the walls currently end at the upstairs ceiling (natch), so we'll have to completely redo all the walls while we're raising the ceiling to avoid an odd one and a half foot gap if we do standard 8' ceilings.

And while we're tearing down the walls, we'll have to shore up the flooring. We have that lovely "vintage roll" effect right now -- meaning that you can go uphill both ways crossing my daughter's room. The peak is in the middle of the room, so at least it's symmetrical. Apparently in 1960, they had different standards of how far apart your support beams could be, as compared to today's much closer requirements. And we're finding particle board and other, shall we say, inexpensive materials used throughout the house. We're betting on finding more under the carpet, which we haven't had the heart to rip out yet. Mostly because we can't afford to replace it yet. And we're scared to see what's underneath.

Speaking of carpet, our tenants had rabbits and cats who, for all appearances, seemed to have had some directionally challenged issues with regards to litterbox location. Most especially in my daughter's room. Our dog did not decorate in this manner while we lived here before, and the previous owners had no pets (and they're the ones who installed the carpet), so logically the smell must be from the tenants' critters. That all needs some replacing, too, because both of my dogs all of a sudden feel the urge to...ah, relieve their urge in that room since our return from TX. We'll let you know what we find when we replace it all. That will likely have a posting all its own.

Drywall will need to be replaced throughout the house, as we have some...dents...and other places where the seams are not quite lined up right. We're not sure if our tenants were slam-dancing or what, but there are quite a few spots that need a little attention at some point. They're not outright holes, so this is wayyyy down on the repair list.

Paint is easy, we've already managed to cover over the Play-Doh blue color bequeathed to us by our tenants, although that took us until about 3 weeks ago to accomplish. Of course, the tenants had to deal with my fire-engine red hallway, so tit for tat I suppose. (It's now brown).

Bathroom ~ is functional. We do have 2 sinks that sit on top of white laminate cabinetry. Whoever installed the cabinets didn't measure very well because there is a huge gap between the back wall and the cabinets, and several inches of open space in the corner, and the doors won't hang quite right. Just for aesthetic reasons, we'd like to have something a little more ... together. Also, it looks like someone bought a home kit shower replacement dealie and had some interesting caulk technique. Again, cosmetic. The bathroom, as mentioned above, is fully functional so we really don't have anything to complain about. At least we have one, right?

Kitchen -- well. The cabinets hold the dishes, so their function is fine. I do have three different colors of wood, and two different door styles going on, which I'd like to simplify to one color and one style if possible. I could just reface them, probably, the only exception being the section between the refrigerator and the stove. Despite multiple bleach treatments, we have a mold problem under there that just won't go away. I'd take pictures, but it ain't pretty; you could film a horror flick under there without much additional cost for set construction. And if you could find actors small enough to fit in the cabinet. Heh. The kitchen is pretty much all cosmetic issues so it's also way down on the priority list. I use the top of the (rolling) dishwasher or our table to prep food on so I have my "work triangle" going on. For an interesting story about the dishwasher, go here.

The countertops are faux marble in a dark hunter green, and none of them are actually attached to the cabinets underneath. The floor coordinates nicely with peel-and-stick vinyl tiles, also in dark green "marble" -- but the tiles aren't lined up too well and the finish has worn off over time. Again, purely cosmetic; just not my color preference. Still work just fine, and I actually feel a little rotten mentioning it. The floor doesn't have to shine, even if the Mop'N'Glo bottle says it will.

We have a very unfinished addition that someone put on one side of the house, with a concrete subfloor. It works as a kind of "mudroom", a place to unlock the door without getting drowned when it rains, and where we currently are storing cardboard boxes, the recycling bins, and firewood. The walls need finishing because you can see outside between the boards, and the roof is too flat and needs a higher pitch (per the house inspector). The roof does leak, and raising the angle is supposed to fix this issue. We'd love to turn it into a screen porch or even a dining room in the distant future, because we don't have either right now.

Our garage...has a very nice concrete floor, holds two vehicles, and has a work area to one side. The fake brick asbestos siding is coming off, and we're not entirely sure what to do with that. I know asbestos is bad stuff, but not much beyond that, so we have some research to do.

Most recently (and of course having both the highest cost and necessity) is our septic system. We don't have one. What was listed on the deed of the house as a septic system is, in fact, a big concrete pit three feet from our house with a slit in one side. And the rock and clay in the ground just won't hold any more...stuff...after 50 years.

To put in a new (real) system, we have to move it out at least 10 feet from the house. Which puts it too close to our well, which we'll have to subsequently move. We can't put the septic or the well in the side yard, because that will be too close to our neighbors' well. After several visits from the county health department, our ONLY option is to take off the front part of the driveway and install a system in a 10 x 15 spot, using a new biometric system -- and provided they can blast a hole big enough through the rocky ridge we sit on. This ridge goes up into New York and down into the Carolinas. This will be potentially cheaper because it means we don't have to move our existing well, but will also be more expensive than a regular septic system, which could normally be installed for around $5K in these here parts. There's always the possibility that we'll have to move the well anyway, and that's where it gets expensive -- $30K for the whole job is a conservative estimate given by the inspector.

We're not entirely sure how we're going to do this; we're already not taking A to outside OT and speech appointments because we can't afford to, even with insurance. We are barely keeping our heads above water as it is, so this is most unwelcome news. Blessedly, the county is giving us some time to correct the problem and isn't making us get it done NEXT WEEK. We're hoping maybe by spring time to a)win the lottery we don't play, b) have a miracle happen and it fix itself somehow, or c)be able to get a loan to cover it, which is unlikely at this point.

Anyone looking to off-load a year's salary? Just checking.

Compounding all of these issues is my husband's back issues. Z has the back of a 70-yr old man even though he just turned 29. If his time in the Army had not come to the end of his enlistment, he would have had a medical discharge. He can't handle a lot of the DIY stuff we'd intended to do, and neither can I due to a bum hip from a car accident a few years ago.

So, this will be an interesting saga indeed! I am interested to see how things develop, chiefly because it's my house, but also from a detached scientific point of view. This is our Mad Scientist experiment. Let the fun begin! And I promise to share most, if not all, of the gory details.

Ketchup

2009-11-16T10:40:00.000-08:00

OK....the long promised catch-up posting is about to commence!

There are so many things that have happened to us since July, it will probably take a few subsequent postings to really flesh things out.

In a (really big, colossal) nutshell:

We moved back from TX to MD, made the trip in TWO DAYS -- in two vehicles (one of which was a small moving van), with two kids and two dogs. Perhaps it was for the best that I didn't have a computer in August; it took me until September to be able to hold a rational line of thinking again! ; )

Z went back to TX; I unpacked the house and got A enrolled in school, got busy with our local church. Our church family helped us unload the truck in a half hour! Plus, some delightful ladies helped us scrub the house out to get the cigarette smoke glaze off our walls, and get some of the unusual odor out. Those lovely acoustic ceiling tiles absorb all sorts of things, not just water from leaky roofs -- but some sprays with hospital grade Odoban did help. **now that we've been heating the house for fall, some smells are coming out again, so we'll have to find a new tactic to deal with it. The church also got our pantry started, the last item of which I used last week! (I love me some Italian cooking, but I can't do 15 boxes of spaghetti all at once -- my thighs need me to space it out some!)

I have been having some weird nerve and muscle issues flaring up in the last year or so, and have been undergoing lots of fun tests while the doctor tries to figure out what in tarnation is going on. Most confusing is the come-and-go nature of the symptoms, a few of which range from extreme fatigue, severe headaches on the left side, electric shocks and numbness, to shaky "Jell-o" muscles that don't want to work. Some days everything's normal, others it's not. They did do an MRI of my ol' noggin back a month and a half ago, proof that I actually do have a brain for those that might wonder, but it was inconclusive other than there is brain matter in the right place. Which is good! That means I likely don't have MS, and I don't have a brain tumor -- which were the two main options that they were looking for.

Z threw what he could into his car and drove up by himself at the beginning of September when the fatigue was at its height. Everything else got chucked into a storage unit in TX. Which we will get some of....at some point. Because Z left so quickly, items that we had intended to sell or give away (shelves, computer desk, etc) wound up being chucked into the storage unit along with my antique theatre seats, our trunk full of games, and the mirror to my dresser. So that will have to be sorted through, whenever we get a chance to get back down there...hopefully in the next couple of years at the rate life keeps happening. I lament, but I realize that it is just "stuff" -- nothing that is essential for life to go on. If we never get it, again, it's just -- STUFF. I might shed a tear over my new winter boots I got for Christmas last year, though -- warmest things my sensitive, formerly frost-bitten toes ever snuggled in.

On the Toilet Bowl drama: K (finally) decided that she's going to be a big girl and just started using the toilet voluntarily one day a little over a couple of weeks ago. I rarely have to prompt her, and she's only had three accidents in as many weeks (two of which were overnight).

And there was great rejoicing in the land.

What makes this the biggest "D'Oh!" moment is why she decided it was time. Z and I have been making all sorts of statements for the last few months to the tune of "you're a big girl now, it's time to start using the toilet like a big girl...diapers are for babies, you're three!" Money is, like it is for most of you right now, a tight commodity for us and we simply can't afford to keep purchasing plastic/vinyl pants to cover her cotton undies as they wear out, nor are disposable ones financially feasible. A couple of weeks ago, we told her again, "you have to start peeing and pooping in the toilet like a big girl." She looked at me for a moment, cocked her head to the side, and said, "OK, mommy!"

And that was it -- she's done it ever since. And stayed dry and clean through 99% of the time. Thrilling, but frustrating all at the same time. Why hadn't that ever worked before? I guess she just had to be ready on her own time to really do it.

*sigh* Stubborn li'l thang. She comes by it honestly, though.

As far as A goes, with prompting he will keep cotton undies dry about 90% of the time now, and that's what he predominantly wears when he's at home. We do still have to put disposables on him when he goes to school or out in public for the protection qualities...A has enough challenges that peeing through his pants in front of the class would really not help things. We're still working on the #2 aspect, so to speak. A has really crappy muscle control (pun intended) and tends to "streak" constantly. Makes for a lot of laundry, but we're getting there....average age for children with autism to be potty-trained is 5 1/2, and A just turned 6 last week, so we're at least close to being on target.

A is having some difficulties in kindergarten this year. Z and I aren't really sure what is going on, because he usually loves school, but he has been severely disruptive and keeps getting yanked out of the classroom. He is smart enough to do the academic work, he is just refusing to do so or take the tests. Frustrating for his teacher, who knows he can do it but is having to fail him for not completing the tests required by the county for assessment purposes, and frustrating for Z and I who don't know how to "light a far" (spelling intended) under the boy's britches. His teacher has made wonderful concessions to the curriculum to match A's IEP (individualized education plan), and I am having some mommy guilt over my son's behavior because Miss M really is going above and beyond the call of duty for our kid.

A is very smart; he taught himself to read (he refused to let me read to him starting about age 2). A can read at least one grade level up if not two. He does love Dr. Seuss, but is also reading Spongebob Squarepants books that are rated for at least 7 years and up. I really don't care what he's reading as long as he enjoys it and is doing so (and as long as the content is appropriate -- no underwear catalogs of course!). Our hope is that he will be able to use the computer to communicate, since he can also spell random words and routinely does so with the refrigerator magnets. (Not just "cat", but things like "dreamworks" and "guitar").

So imagine our frustration when the teacher tells us that he won't read for the test, won't indicate letter sounds or anything else -- until later, when he'll rattle them all off and smile at his teacher. After the testing period is over.

A is having behavioral issues, as I briefly alluded to above. Lots of screaming, tantrums, throwing things, and waving his fist in the air...also a lot of noisy chatter and refusal to quiet down during work time. Z and I are trying to figure out exactly what our options are, because this isn't working right now.

Oh; and our septic system finally died. As in, spilled into our yard, died. More on this later, when we figure out how in the world we're going to get it fixed -- let's just say that what was on the deed to the house ain't what we got in the back yard. And the county health inspectors feel sorry for us. If anyone has an extra, oh, $30K lying around not doing anything useful, feel free to send it my way. We'd appreciate it; I'll even let you use the toilet first after the new system is installed! ; )

On the upside -- (yes, here's the Little Susie Sunshine portion of the post) -- we are tremendously blessed. Blessed to be back "home", blessed to have good friends and good family. And each other. Blessed to look out the front window at the mountains, enjoying the leaves as they changed in all their fall finery. Blessed that we are all fairly healthy, my weirdness aside. Blessed that my daughter still has her creativity and will wear a ballerina dress, a camouflage baseball cap, striped shoes (courtesy of Michele S) and two different colored socks, three necklaces, and a Hello Kitty wristwatch -- to the bus stop, while carrying a stuffed cat. Now, that is self-confidence! I hope she never loses it. Blessed that we have a brick hearth and a 1-yr old black woodstove in perfect condition at a total cost of $230. Blessed that I have a dear friend who convinces me to buy things like pretty shoes (which are killer, both in appearance and wearability).

Photo posts coming soon....as soon as I figure out how to rig the camera to extract them. The door that covers the batteries split in half a couple of months ago, and I have to press it together with a surprising amount of force on that spot to even turn the camera on -- it's affecting the metal contacts on the batteries; it won't work on the dock and we can't remove the memory. So we're getting our MacGyver on. Hopefully we'll have some results soon.

Speaking of MacGyver, if I don't address it soon, remind me to tell you about how my husband attached our video camera to a broomstick with painters tape (yes, that would be the papery, easily torn blue stuff) and shoved it through the wall of the house into the flue of the chimney. I about had a heart attack.

Another idea rattling around the cranium is adding a cooking section to the blog, or creating a new site for that -- I love to cook, if I'm not making family recipes I make up my own for everything from cookies to pasta sauces, and I do most of it from scratch (less preservatives, tastes better, and it's cheaper). I have a friend that wants me to show her how to make some things, too, which might be fun to chronicle. I frequently check out blogs like The Pioneer Woman and Smitten Kitchen and realize that I am nowhere near their leagues -- but still think it might be fun. My only hang-up is I don't know where some of the family recipes came from, and I have no idea what the legal ramifications of posting something like that are. My own stuff is just that, but as for anything else...I want to give credit where credit is due. Lemme know what you think, and if you have any name ideas for such a venture. You guys are every bit as creative (usually more so) than I am.

Ciao!

Oy...nck.

2009-10-23T12:27:00.001-07:00

Flu, flu, gotta swine flu
Gotta swine flu --
How 'bout you?

I wish I could blame that bit of nattering on drugs of some sort, but alas I'm not even on cough syrup at the moment. Sleep deprivation, though, is a definite possibility.

The last hold-out in our household finally succumbed to whatever had been ailing Z, then me, then her big brother for the last few weeks. Miss K was fine when she woke up from her nap on Weds, and a half hour later BAM!! 102.8 degree fever. Which climbed up to 103.7 before the ibuprofen kicked in...we had just gotten paid, so we were able to take Miss K to the doctor (a luxury her brother and I did not have -- Daddy had his appointment and meds nearly a week before A started feeling crappy, and we just didn't have it to take A in at that point...Z's actually at his follow-up appointment right now so we'll know for sure what he was dealing with).

But we DO know what K has. Congratulations! K has H1N1, a fever we've been trying to keep under 104 (104.2 is the highest so far), and some rather pricey medicine. It was a long night last night. We have been hit so hard here in this area there is no more liquid TamiFlu available in a large radius around us, so I have to take adult capsules, mix the contents in a specific amount of liquid (apple juice), and then only give a portion of that to K, discarding the rest. (In our county, 99% of all flu and cold-like issues are actually H1N1, according to our county's health department which is tracking things like mad, especially in the elementary schools). K's been doing much better today, hovering around the 101 degree mark, although she's napping at the moment and I haven't checked her in about an hour or so.

Her congestion is actually concerning us more than the fever at this point...she sounds like she's swallowed mud and is breathing through it. So, prayers over the next few days are appreciated, K is taking this much worse than any of the rest of us did. T'anks.

There really will be a "Ketchup" post soon...but it may be another week, depending on how K is doing.

Greetings!

2009-10-10T13:48:00.000-07:00

Just to let you all know, I have just gotten a computer that I can use to update the ol' blog.

It's been, what, two months?

Don't have time to do much more than say "I'm still here!"

More to come. Soon...probably Monday.

But I'm back! And there's lots to update you on -- our 1800-mile trek back to MD; A's kindergarten experiences; the play-doh blue our tenants painted our living room, among other interesting discoveries in the house...

Soon.

Sorry, Wrong Number

2009-07-18T08:05:00.000-07:00

We have discovered why we hadn't heard back from the hospital about Z's manogram yet: they put the wrong prefix on the phone number. Our area code for his cell is 240; the local area code is 254. The lady taking down the information was either on autopilot or thought Z had mispoken, so the phone number they had was not correct.

After two weeks of playing phone tag with the hospital and his PCM, we finally heard from the surgeon late yesterday.

Results:
There is a tumor present, but it does not have the resonance signature of a cancerous tumor.

Now we have to wait until Monday to find out what they plan to do with it.

BUT this is Great! Fabulous! Terrific! news.

Other news that's making our collective heads spin: we are moving back to Maryland, in two weeks. Due to some unexpected events involving our tenants, we are going back home to take possession of our house and eliminate paying for two places at the same time. Our tenants were supposed to be in the Maryland house until the end of next March, when they were going to be purchasing it. We were not planning to renew their lease. After discovering they would be unable to purchase the house, they gave us their thirty days' notice to be out on the first of August. They have a large family and finding suitable living quarters can be a challenge for them, so when they found something they jumped on it.

Our house is in no condition to get a new tenant at this time, so back to Maryland we go. We have actually gotten phone calls from two different people -- one neighbor, one friend from church -- in the last week expressing some concerns about our property. We're not entirely certain what we're about to walk into. Our lease in TX runs out in September, so at least that part is easy. Z will have to stay in TX until work can move him up here, though, so he may be sleeping on couches for a while.

Initially it was looking like he'd be in TX until March of next year, but an opening has occurred in the D.C. area and hopefully Z will slide into it by the end of September so we can be a family again. Z will continue working with the church here until he leaves.

We have accomplished what we came to Texas to do as far as getting the new church started, we have done all we can do at this point. Any future progress is out of our hands; it's up to the people who say they want this church to get rolling. Ball's in their court to do what needs to be done.

It's still surreal and such short notice, but luckily I can pack things in my sleep. This makes move #21 for me (in 32 years) and #26 for my husband. Guess our military brat pedigrees (and six years as a military wife) come in handy once again, right? There is still the "freak out" element present, though. I do that really well, too.

Our kids are actually excited to be heading back up there. A gets a little grin on his face when we mention moving back to Maryland, and K flat out shrieked with joy the first time we told her. Now she asks multiple times daily if we're "going to Maryland today?"

We are hoping beyond hope that we will land in one place and just stay there for a while. Contrary to popular belief, we do not actually enjoy moving. We moved twice in Maryland -- once to a home closer to Z's work, because he was getting up at 3:45 in the morning and getting home close to 9 p.m. and by moving closer he could sleep in until 5:00 and get home around 7 -- more family and sleep time. Then we moved a couple of years after that because we'd bought a house; Z was getting out of the military and we were planning on staying put for a long time.

We said when we bought the house that we were there unless God Himself moved us. Famous last words, she said, as the H family drove to Texas a year later...

Sooo -- now we're coming back, hopefully for good this time. Both Z and I really love western Maryland, from the people we have befriended to the gorgeous scenery. At the risk of sounding like a complete freak, the land out there just has a beautiful, peaceful spirit about it, whether you're at the river or up hiking through the mountains. Maryland feels like home. It's the first place either Z or I have felt that way about, in all of our moving around.

And, hey! Maybe I can have that garden and chooks yet. I think the chickens will have to wait at least a year, though, until we can get everything squared away with the house. I suspect that repainting will be on "the list"; we're hoping drywall repair and replacement flooring are not on "the list".

If we can swing it, one of the things we'd like to do in late fall would be to take down the "office tile" ceilings and put up good ol' drywall ceilings. That will make a tremendous difference in our abilities to insulate and soundproof, because the ceiling tiles we currently have are rated at about a 2 to a 4 as far as R-value goes, and it's not so easy to put in insulation over a ceiling with a bunch of cracks and holes in it.

It will also look about a thousand times better, which will do wonders for my mood. Amazing how aesthetics can do that. I'm not a fancy schmancy person, but I would like things to at least have a nice finished look. Some of the tiles have holes in them, and whoever installed them didn't put the frame in straight, so we have a crooked grid all over our ceiling with views of the roof around the edges of some of the tiles. It's just enough off to irritate me. Functional, yes, but not energy efficient, and they're ugh - lee.

My husband believes that every house needs an ugly something, if for nothing else then as a conversation piece. Perhaps we'll leave the genuine circa 1960's scalloped wooden cornice in the living room for him...that way I can update the kitchen and ceilings and still have an ugly thing for Z. Or maybe not.

Dog Days

2009-07-15T17:23:00.000-07:00

We are in the dog days of summer -- we've had over 30 days of temperatures 100 degrees or higher this year. That does not include the days that it is, say, a balmy 98 degrees with a heat index of 109; those simply don't count. Who does that counting stuff anyway? By my book, those heat indices should count.

We have only had a couple of days dipping below the 100 mark since June 1st, but you really can feel a difference when it does. Hopefully the tease the weatherman threw us about Friday and Saturday will actually happen: highs 97 to 99 with a chance of thunderstorms. I sure hope so; we're so dry we've been pretty much under a constant burn ban for our county, and our air conditioning system running full blast only keeps it between 85 and 90 inside, depending on the external temperature. It also freezes up a couple of times every day, and we have to switch it to "fan" for a while to melt all the ice -- about 10 minutes generally does it -- before turning the air conditioner setting back on.

A is in ESY summer school through the middle of next week. It's hot enough that if his bus is only 4 minutes late, it's enough to exhaust you. Luckily the bus is air conditioned, so A is just fine once he's on board. He's loving school and is actually doing the work now that his teacher has learned what he's capable of, and A has learned that his teacher isn't a pushover.

K has sprouted like a weed and is actually fitting into 3T clothing comfortably; when we arrived here in March, she turned three but was still wearing 24 month clothing. We're thrilled she's catching up to others in her age group, but are having to alter our clothing schedule of hand-me-downs and reassess her needs for this fall. (Based on her past growth times we figured it would take until at least November to even keep the 3's up on her butt, but she's surprised us all. And she's tall and thin, not a chunk at all).

In other news, there is a disturbing practice in this town that, while it's present in a lot of places in the United States, is made exponentially worse here where there are a lot of military moves. What I'm referring to is animal dumping. People find out they're moving across the country or out of the country, take the collar off their animals, and boot them out the front door to fend for themselves.

I was so angry when I came back home from my walk this morning -- I'd seen yet another dog, a yellow lab this time, that was so thin you could see every one of its ribs and vertebrae wandering the streets looking for shade and water. If you call the local animal authorities, you get a wearied response that they'll canvas the area sometime in the new few days and try to pick them up. They get so many calls and don't have the staff to keep up with it all. We also have rabies and other diseases running rampant due to the large feral animal population, too, so I didn't dare approach the poor beast.

We are now taking care of a black lab that showed up at our house about a month ago in a similar situation. She had no collar, and despite calling around, asking neighbors, and posting a notice in the paper we have had no "hits". She was never quite skin and bones, but she has filled out nicely since her time with us. So sweet, puts up with all K's attentions, and is well trained. We didn't even get a leash for her until last week, on Saturday, because she stays at your knee when you walk and will stop when you do. If she wanders all you have to do is pat your leg or say, "Come", and she's instantly back.

She does not bark at people coming to the door or other dogs outside our fence either, which is strange but really great at the same time. She is an awesome dog, someone lost a really good one. The only possible issue that we've discovered is she loves to dig -- especially in my big tub that houses my zucchini plant. She gets along fantastically well with our male Siberian Husky -- once she set him straight that chicks don't like guys all up in their junk all the time.

When we took the collar and leash out of the store bag on Saturday, her butt hit the floor and her tail started wagging so hard it looked like she'd wag it clear off. She is so happy to have a collar, and I think she knows that she has a family again. I took her for a walk on the leash for the first time Monday morning and she was so excited when I pulled it out she was jumping up and down and wriggling her entire body. She pranced along past all the fenced dogs on our route with her head high and her tail out behind her all pretty, smiling the whole time.

Z and I ran through every dog's name we could think of (and made up a few out of desperation) just to see if she'd answer to something. All of our attempts were dismal failures. We asked the kids what they'd like to name her, to include them in the process because we can't just keep calling her "dog". A's contributions were "black dog" and "water". K came up with the dog's name, mostly because she most emphatically refuses to call her anything else. Our new pooch now has the most unlikely moniker of, "Princess". Smart dog, it only took her 2 days to start answering to it.

So, "Princess" is now sporting a lovely red collar and a tag with her name and our phone numbers engraved on it, and has a red leash to match.

As far as we can tell, she has never been fixed; neither has Mischa. Z and I were contemplating this the other day and are wondering just what any puppies would look like if they occurred between a male Siberian Husky and a female Labrador Retriever. The pups would likely be uglier than homemade sin, but have fabulous personalities. My mother suggested that we could call any offspring "Labrarians".

....yeah....

That tidbit of family knowledge probably gives you all some valuable insight into why I am the way I am.

Wii UnFit

2009-07-10T13:08:00.000-07:00

Sooooo.....we have a new Wii Fit in our household.

Thanks to a car wreck a little over 3 years ago and 4 abdominal surgeries in the last 5 years, two of which sliced me vertically from navel all the way down -- let's just say that my activity level hasn't been what it used to be, my right hip does NOT have a great range of motion, and my belly has far too much motion. Walking and subsisting on salads only does so much, so here goes a try at something else.

Initial impressions: the board thing is actually pretty sensitive, and I hate how it measures your BMI. Even if it's probably true. Ahem. Even if it is true... The Wii Fit actually picked up on the differences between my balance on my right and left sides, though, consistently through the different exercises.

Using the Wii Fit is actually pretty fun to do, but due to range of motion limitations I have discovered a difficulty with some activities, like the yoga "tree" pose where I have to raise the right leg (left is fine), and some of the balance games like the skiing. I overcompensate to the left, where I put most of my weight. My right side is now a couple of inches higher permanently due to the aforementioned wreck, so that makes sense. Makes walking and running interesting sometimes depending on the terrain...the more level it is, the better I am at maintaining balance. Hiking up mountains at this point is probably not the best idea because I will trip all over myself and innocent bystanders.

Who knows? Maybe this will help with what the months upon months of physical therapy didn't, or at least maintain what range of motion I've got remaining on the right side. At least it's fun, and my daughter tries to do the things standing next to me on the floor -- so not only will that keep her out of trouble, but she'll burn off some of that dadgum energy too.

Here's to a new venture!

Taking it Easy

2009-06-30T17:16:00.000-07:00

A started his summer school on Monday last week. He has a new teacher for the month-long summer session, and is slacking big time. I had to send a note in to his teacher to let him know that he could read quite well, and write some things too. A doesn't like to do the writing much because it's difficult for him, but we're getting there.

When he's motivated, he has started to write things down to tell us. For example, the other day when it was 105 actual temperature, with a heat index of 112, A went up to his sister's coloring tablet and wrote "hot", got his dad's attention, and pointed to it. We're thrilled and are hoping that his developing writing and reading skills will open a window to some communication that has been nonexistent up to this point. He routinely writes his first and last names using pencils without the pencil grip. We've graduated! Woo hoo! He also spells things using the letter magnets on the side of the fridge.

In other news, he's a bean pole. Tall and skinny boy, he can wear 6/7's if only we could find a belt small enough to keep them on his butt. Lengthwise it's no problem. He just turned 5 1/2.

School is only a half day in the summer, so A is enjoying playing with his sister both in the house and in our little inflatable pool that resides just off the back porch. A absolutely loves the water and will go completely underwater with no issues, strange given some of his sensory issues. K is also a little fish and likes to hold her breath and walk on her hands from one end of the ten-foot pool to the other. I also watch her like a hawk.

My birthday was yesterday, so I got a couple of gift cards to go purchase some veggies and flowers and plant them after all. It's probably too late, but we'll give it a whirl. This part of Texas has a long growing season, so we'll see what happens. I have a container garden in the back yard consisting of a single tomato plant, two bell peppers, and some herbs including cilantro (which I could bathe in), sweet basil (which I could also bathe in), flat leaf Italian parsley, and some rosemary. I also bought some flowers for the front neglected bed.

My husband gave me a beautiful gift last night of digging up the whole thing. It would appear that nothing has ever been planted in the bed since the house was built 7 years ago, judging from the depth of the grass roots and the rock-hard quality of the soil. Bless his heart, I think that's the most expensive gift he's ever given me. It comes at a cost; Z has 3 slipped disks and 2 ruptured ones that he just lives with. The doctor won't do surgery for him yet because of his degenerative back disease -- once he starts with the surgery, he'll have to have it every 5 years or so for the rest of his life, and they want to prolong the initial surgery as long as possible.

Z just smiled at me when I ran out the front door last night. I didn't realize he was out there until he'd done the entire thing, and he said that he was going to keep doing things as long as he could. It will hurt regardless, so he's just going to do what he can do. *sigh* I love him to pieces, but it makes me cry when he does stuff like this.

Today we had a beautiful, glorious, wonderful cold front move through and instead of the 104 we had yesterday, we had highs in the 70's most of the day until this evening when it creeped up into the lower 80's. Yeeeeeesssss. I planted the entire front bed this afternoon. Then started a light, gentle rain -- perfect for the new babies in their new home. I hit the "clearance section" at the nursery and have 9 zinnias in a range of colors, an orange and red Pride of Barbados, 4 red salvia, 2 white-blooming sage, 4 brown-eyed susans, 2 purple coneflowers, 23 dark red gladiolus, 3 landscape gerbera daisies in "watermelon, pineapple, and coconut", and 3 day lilies in a deep wine color with yellow throats. And I also scored a huge red geranium in a pot that is now gracing my front porch. Wheeeee! I'm looking for some of those trailing petunias for a couple of hanging baskets, but am having a difficult time finding any this year. Two stores have had ZERO available since we got here; I'm wondering if there's some sort of disaster in the petunia industry or something this year.

My kids helped to decorate my cake yesterday. Z made a chocolate cake from scratch and then let the kids go to town using their choice of decorations. And they did go to town. I had a truly one-of-a-kind creation: broken up Oreo cookies; sugar nonpareil Santa Claus heads leftover from a Christmas cupcake project; coconut; and red and green sugar sprinkles were dumped liberally across the entire surface. I thought I'd need an insulin shot from just looking at it. And I'm not diabetic.

But it was good, and the kiddos were thrilled with it and had a ball putting everything on there. And all was right with the world.

Another odd bit of news that's relieving in a way: Z's growing mass in his chest has tripled in size since last week. This means there is a huge probability it's got liquid in it and it's a cyst, rather than something tumorous and nasty -- which is infinitely relieving in its own way. We still don't know what it is, won't until next week sometime, but at least there's a really good chance it's not an ugly kind of cancer.

Manogram

2009-06-25T14:14:00.000-07:00

Unusual situations have a way of showing up in our household; it's almost like we're a lightning rod for medical weirdness. Here's yet another instance:

My husband had a nodular fascitis three years ago that had attached itself to tendons, muscle fibers, etc on his left forearm. By the time we'd waded through all the necessary red tape and insurance paperwork to actually get it removed, it was turning from "normal" to something more sinister. What was supposed to have been a 30 to 45 minute procedure, start to finish, turned into a 4 1/2 hour ordeal due to all the adhesions.

He's been "cyst free" for the last three years...only now something has (literally) popped up. Or, I should say, three somethings.

The noticeable one is under his right nipple, close to a lymph node. It simply wasn't there last Friday; by Sunday Z was noticing a distention and it was painful. Now, you can see it if you look at his bare chest. Well, at least, I can and the doctors can. Z doesn't generally run around shirtless, even though it's 105 degrees so far today. It is definitely a firm lump, and still painful. The doctor found two more rather suspicious lumps in his abdomen during the physical exam. Z has lost 14 pounds after getting out of the Army, despite no exercise whatsoever and eating all manner of stuff he couldn't get away with while he was still in the service, another point for concern.

Long story short, Z has an appointment at the hospital on Monday, July 6th in the Women's Clinic so he can get a mammogram and ultrasounds done. He's taking the news pretty well, and it doesn't really bother him or threaten his manhood any. He will follow up with a surgeon and could be having surgery as soon as a few days after his visit to the Women's Clinic. He's taking it all in stride. So why am I the one who wants to cry?

Z's doctor is a Christian, which is nice, and he was very blunt and to the point. He looked Z straight in the eye following his exam and said that we needed to pray that this goes away as quickly as it has shown up. And then he explained about male breast cancer statistics, which is apparently 1 out of every 100 cases. I had no idea, all I generally hear about is women's breast cancer issues.

So -- I guess I said all that to say this: please send up some prayers for my husband and his doctors, that this whole situation gets taken care of pronto and without lasting effects and NO CANCER.

Thanks. *sigh*

Lord, if you're testing us, what is it we're not getting? Or are we "getting it" and being used as examples somehow, or so we can help others in similar circumstances? I wish we knew, instead of floundering through all this stuff blindly sometimes. We don't feel completely rudderless, we know we are inexorably drawn by You through whatever our life situation is. And our faith remains firm, is strengthened even. But it would be nice to know the light at the end of the tunnel is not, in fact, a train in this instance. Amen.

The Simple Life

2009-06-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

This great web called "Life" is a strange warren of paths that cross at random junctures and lead to various far-flung possibilities; take any of them, and you'll definitely learn something new about yourself and surprise yourself, or confirm what you always knew. But maneuvering down those paths, and taking the odd jaunt down a different direction is the adventure -- you don't always know what lays at the end of it, even if you think you do. Funny how sometimes our desires after living a few years can be the polar opposite of what you thought you'd want when you were a kid.

I went to high school in Alaska at a tiny little blip on the map, thanks to my dad's military service. I hated the isolation, despite the beautiful scenery. I went to college at a larger (relatively speaking) blip in west Tennessee, still with a population well under 10,000 at that time and where they pretty much rolled up the sidewalks after 5 p.m. The closest town of any size was 30 to 45 minutes away, depending on exactly where you were wanting to go. The new SuperWalMart was 45 minutes away, in case you were wondering; that was the epitome of a "good time" for a lot of us, meeting at the WalMart at odd hours while shopping for various staples of college existence: paper, Ramen noodles, and caffeinated beverages. It about drove me nuts.

I yearned for the excitement, the bustle, the thousand given possibilities of each moment that the city seemed to promise, at any hour I chose to explore them. Not just any city. THE City, New York City, mecca of arts, melting pot of cultures and wonderful strange foods, and home to alligators in the sewer and the occasional scary experience in the subway. I was going to savor every second, soak it all up in my bones until I couldn't draw any more in. And I was going to be an actress by night, living it up and struggling to eke out an existence like the other million actors and actresses trolling the streets and shops by day as waiters or clerks. I didn't figure on reaching Broadway, if ever, without some more years in studying and experience, but off Broadway was just fine with me. I'm afraid my father had visions of me living in an alley somewhere with cats for company, so I think he was relieved that I never did quite make it there.

Somehow, I stayed put in the small community after college, went to work at a bank for a while, and then snared a job as an arts administrator for another town in a different county. I wanted to pay off my student loans before attempting to move to notoriously expensive New York. A noble goal intially, but then things started to change.

I started to appreciate the slower pace, the people who had all the time in the world to get things done so they could stop and chat at the local grocery store, or on the sidewalk on Main Street. I wound up getting married to a guy who was going into the military, had kids pretty much immediately, and have moved 5 times in the last 6 years.

Now? Don't laugh. I yearn for a simple country life. Sounds hokey, but I'd love nothing more than to live in an old farm house, raise an enormous garden while I'm raising my kids, and throw a couple or three chooks in the mix for eggs. I'm fascinated by the old wood cookstoves like my grandmother and her grandmother used. Despite the fact that I'd be busy from sunrise until sundown doing various things associated with rural living, I know that time flows differently in the country. It's more satisfying to me, somehow, to have spent a day outside working on something I can physically see the results of, and something that I actually enjoy, than to push papers in an indoor office with nary a glimpse of the sun.

I don't want pigs, or horses; if I wanted a cow or goats for milk, I'd really have to think about that. They eat a lot, need a lot of work and attention and I don't know that I'd have the patience to handle that and pick critters off my veggies at the same time. Or the patience needed to keep the livestock out of the garden altogether.

So, yeah. Far cry from aspirations of starring in a show off Broadway in the Big Apple. I actually went to L.A. to audition for Les Miserables after I graduated from college, that was how serious I was about pursuing a career in theatre and moving to New York. (I didn't make it past the second round, chiefly because although I'd had scads of experience by then I was not yet an equity card holder).

But the simpler life is more soothing to my soul, I think. The only stipulation for this sort of life is a necessary sabbatical to a huge metro area a couple of times a year, one to enjoy some cultural offerings not found in the hinterland, and two to remind me of exactly why I chose to live in the sticks in the first place.

For now, this is still a pipe dream; we live smack in the middle of a subdivision that was built up here in Texas about 7 years ago. We are crammed against neighbors that we can't see because of the privacy fences, and there are no trees to be seen. I also can't garden in this house because we're renting and the owners don't want me digging up the back yard or putting in raised beds. My alternate plan Q (yes, it got that far) was to have a container garden -- but again, life happened, and I have a few pots but no dirt or plants to nurture to fruition. And it's the end of June, a bit late for summer plantings and too blasted hot for shorter growing season crops. The high today was supposed to be 104, and 103 tomorrow. We're having a cold front move through over the weekend; highs are only supposed to be 100 each day.

I have to admit that I still get a twinge when I think of Maryland summers. They got hot some days, but nothing like this, for as long. I also wince when I think of all the beautiful compost that I've had going for about a year now, and the fact that I can't do a thing with it.

But.

We're here, doing what we're supposed to be doing. And that's okay. "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans" and all that jazz. One day, I might just get that house and garden...unless I change my mind in another 15 years. : )

Galveston

2009-06-17T20:07:00.000-07:00

Last week, my husband and I had a madcap dash of a getaway to Galveston. We were initially scheduled to go to an arts conference in Chicago, but when the financial backers who had requested that we go to said conference flaked on their end of the deal, my husband and I could simply not make $700 + come up out of thin air with two weeks notice.

We had already arranged for my mother-in-law to come over here and use her expert kid wrangling skills while we were gone for the week -- she had four kids of her own and currently has nine grandchildren, the youngest of which just turned two and the oldest of which turned seven recently. It was a busy five years for all concerned, let me tell you.

But I digress. I'm good at that.

ANYWAY -- since she was here anyway, Z and I figured we'd zip out of town for a couple of nights and let her use those aforementioned kid wrangling skills, so her flight over here wasn't a complete waste of her time (visiting with us aside). Exciting stuff! We have never, and I repeat, never been away overnight without the kids in the whole of their existence with just us by ourselves. We've been away, but always either individually (either Z or I would be gone, but not both), or we'd be gone in a big group setting sharing a room with other married people. We pored over the options and finally made reservations at a nice, but inexpensive hotel on the seawall in Galveston.

It was with great glee that we looked forward to this event. Woo hoo!

Enter a frantic phone call Sunday morning during our Bible study, from our tenants who are living in our house in Maryland. They have no water. Zero. And we have a well. The initial estimate was several thousand dollars to fix, which didn't do wonders for my blood pressure, so we tried to cancel our reservations in Galveston. We could. Sort of. They were still going to charge us for the first night's stay anyway, kind of their own little guarantee with the bad economy that they'd at least get something out of the deal I suppose.

With the additional costs of putting the tenant family in a hotel, in which they would have needed two rooms, for however long it took to fix the issue and prorating the rent while they were not living in the house -- well, the tally was getting daunting. Especially since we couldn't even come up with $700 for Chicago. We prayed hard about it, and asked God to keep the cost for fixing the well problem under $500.

By Tuesday, we had found a very honest guy that did all the work necessary, and who would send us a bill for his work rather than us paying him up front the day of service. We had no way to do that being in Texas, anyway, so this was wonderful. Turns out the problem was not with the well pump itself (thank goodness) but with the pipe leading to the well, which had become so mineral laden it choked itself off. Our well is only about 100 feet deep, so all the better.

Z gets off the phone with our tenant, turns to me, and says to pack our bag and some food. Since we were losing the money for a night at the hotel anyway, we were going to spend the $20 in gas to get out there and back, and just pack all our own food. The hotel room had a mini fridge, but nothing else, so we took pasta salad and some fruit for dinner, and then cereal and milk for breakfast the next morning.

So we drove the 4 hours to Galveston, had a lovely time -- got there about 6:30 p.m.,our room had a balcony facing the Gulf, so we ate our dinner and breakfast out there. We also walked along the beach after dinner until it was too dark to really see what we were stepping on, and then went out the next morning to walk it for another couple of hours before stopping to score some lunch and drive back home. I wished we'd had at least another week. Even if the initial plan was only for two nights.

I love the Gulf coast. Absolutely adore it. During my formative years, my family was blessed enough to have a family friend donate two weeks of their timeshare on the beach just north of St. Petersburg. Every summer. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of those beach vacations, and my favorite beaches are still the Gulf coast beaches. The Atlantic and Pacific are just....different, they have a different feel and flavor. Yes. That's the words I was looking for.

Galveston was hit by Hurricane Ike in Sept 2008 -- just a few months ago, but you almost can't tell. Oh, there are still a few buildings in disrepair, and some houses that are still beyond smashed and ruined, but by and large the community is back up and running. Such a huge disparity between Galveston nine months after Ike, and New Orleans nine months after Katrina. The locals didn't bother to wait for federal aid, they just rolled up their sleeves and got to work. And it looks great, especially considering that in the middle of town during the siege the water was 4 feet 5 inches high -- miles away from the coast guarded by a 17-ft high seawall. It was of course much deeper the closer to the beach you got. There are still areas marked out where you can't swim due to underwater debris that hasn't been cleared yet, but the beaches are open and pretty much cleared except for the construction rebuilding out over the water. We walked over 5 miles and only had to scale up and down the seawall to skirt construction twice.

Foolish mortal that I am, in our haste to pack and leave within an hour I left the sunblock. And have paid dearly. My husband has enough Native American in him that he simply tanned. Me, on the other hand, well let's just say the Irish is abundant in my bloodlines. I fear I am sporting yet another "Red Banded Idiot Burn", which fortunately has faded to an itchy peeling tan by now.

And here's the cool part: our whole trip was pretty much just free stuff, aside from gas and a very very cheap lunch -- like, literally $4 each -- but it wasn't fast food, we ate at a very nice little family owned restaurant with a view of the water. Shockingly good prices, we'd go back with the kids and get out of there for under $20, and it's all freshly made stuff. And we had a great time. Z and I just like being together, and it was so nice to be able to relax and look at each other without worrying that K was out tormenting the sharks by the pier.

Our bill for the pipe replacement, etc, in Maryland came in the mail on Saturday; it totals $423 and change. Isn't God great?

Summertime

2009-06-15T11:11:00.000-07:00

Summertime. In Texas. God has a special setting, called "flambe'", just for this state. And He turned it up early this year.

Having never experienced a Texan summer before, (and yes, I know that I ain't seen nuthin' yet) we are doing pretty well.

Most of our days are spent with all the curtains drawn, and if you cared to venture out into the furnace and make your way over to our house, you'd find us in minimal clothing, draped over the couch directly under the air conditioning vent -- we have it down to a science, four people can arrange themselves in various odd positions so that no one actually makes contact with anyone else.

It helps that K is still pretty much pocket-sized.

The air conditioner can not be set below 80 degrees or it will freeze up the unit. Whoever built the house put the thing so that it's on the south and east side of the house -- which means it has to work harder to overcome the higher temperatures. Despite the decidedly wimpy air flow, at least it's moving air. And that helps tremendously.

Blessedly, our house in Maryland had a crappy air system too so at least we're used to it. We lived on pedestal fans, donated to us by very dear and generous friends that were concerned about our babies. We had a concrete slab foundation, and no insulation upstairs, so the upstairs was at least 15 degrees hotter than the downstairs. Trying to sleep when it's 92 degrees (or warmer) is just not enjoyable, least of all when you're a kid. When a kid is miserable, everyone is miserable.

What is depressing is the realization that while our actual temps have been between 98 and 101 for the last week, with a much higher heat index, it is going to be even hotter in about a month. I'd cry, but I'd lose valuable moisture.

We've had some rip-roarin' thunderstorms during the evenings though, of an awesomeness that frankly can't be matched by anything in the mid-Atlantic. We have already had more hailstorms in two months than I can recall ever going through in the entirety of my life. I pity those without garages or carports, the damages to cars is definitely not pretty. I am one of those people that has a healthy respect for the weather, but who also really would love to go out and watch the lightning. (Even if our house itself was struck a couple of months ago.) I draw the line at severe weather, though, and would prefer to be in a closet with a blanket, huddled over the emergency radio.

Which reminds me of another oddity: we live in Tornado Alley proper, but there are not very many basements in Texan homes. Fabulous. I guess it doesn't really matter so much here, because they don't get the "wimpy" EF1 variety very often. If they get a tornado, it's a huge monster that takes out an entire town, so you're probably toast anyway. How comforting.

I grew up in South Florida during my formative years, and I'll take a hurricane over a tornado any day. At least you have advanced notice and can "batten down the hatches" and get the heck out of dodge. My husband, on the other hand, was born and raised in Kansas -- and he's more likely to be outside whooping and hollering at the "cool" sickly green tinge the sky takes on, and avidly scanning for funnel clouds.

He's a freak, but I love him.

Field Day

2009-06-02T10:27:00.000-07:00

This week is the last full week of school for the regular school year. A's school chose to have their Field Day on Friday of last week, and the parents were invited to come and watch if we wanted to.

It was thrilling to see A having so much fun with the other kids, and being every bit as good at the activities as the others! Whereas he has some difficulties in the classroom holding pens and such, A's gross motor skills are perfectly on target; he can run, jump, and climb with the best. Z and I were both struck at how...normal...that day was, as we imagine "normal" to be. Both of us were very excited for A! And A's grin when we arrived was worth the visit, even if we didn't get to see him do one thing. Luckily, we got to spend about two hours with him and got to see him participate in a few activities before we brought him home with us at the end of the day.

Z and I loaded up Miss K after lunch and headed over there to see what we could see. A had a blast, and so did his sister. I could just see the wheels turning in K's head: so this is what school is like! Sure enough, she's been asking to go to school every day now. I (foolishly) tried to explain to her that she can't go, because she's just turned three. Little good that did. They do have public preschool here, but you have to be four years old and we now make more than the income requirement threshold, so she will not be attending. At least, not a public preschool.

Z and I have been talking, more so since Friday. K really loves learning things about all sorts of topics, she LOVES to create art in any form, and she is one of the most social kids I've ever seen, to the point of being annoying to other children sometimes. We may be putting her into a private preschool after she turns four just to help curb some of that exuberance and get her used to a classroom setting before she has to start kindergarten. She would undoubtedly love to do it now, but private preschool does cost money, and with the economy doing what it is recently...at this point we think that it is smarter to wait. She is already picking up a lot of things here at home: she knows all the letters and their sounds, can write a few and even read some simple words; same for numbers, although we're not getting math just yet. She does get the concept of addition and subtraction, though. And she knows her colors and shapes already, even weird ones like octagons. She is always asking questions about pretty much, well, everything, like 3-yr olds tend to do.

Z and I have also bandied about the thought of homeschooling, first for A (before we learned of his challenges), and then for K. At this point, public school is the best possible place for A; he gets some of the services he needs and lots of socialization with other more "typical" kids his age. I just can not duplicate that in a home school setting, and I'm not trained to do the OT and speech therapies -- although I do repeat some of the same things at home to supplement his school work. All of my hopes and willpower do not make up for actual training in those areas, though, and I recognize that.

As far as Miss Thang goes, K is going to have to lose some of that stubborn willfulness or I'm not going to be able to teach her anything. As it is, she listens to other people better than she does me, much to the consternation and bewilderment of her father and I. We're not sure where it's coming from, but we know without a doubt that if we don't get a handle on it now, ten years from now it will be worse. I've heard that it's just the age (3), so we'll see.

Good news! I might have a computer again this summer sometime, so all those pictures I have languishing on my digital camera can make their way blogward. I am glad I have the opportunity to use my husband's work laptop occasionally, but it does have its limitations on what I'm allowed to do with it. And putting outside software or photographs on it is a "no no".

Holey Moley!

2009-05-31T16:13:00.000-07:00

Hey, all ~

Things have been normal at my end of the zoo (read: crazy). Now that I have all the information, I can share some of the stress that we've -- I've -- been going through for about a month now.

I noticed an odd thing at the beginning of February, on the back of my right knee. It felt like a scab, looked like a black pinhead. I thought it might be a baby tick, but in February? In Maryland, where it reached 4 degrees below zero just a couple of weeks before?

Nope, it was a mole. Knowing that we were moving, I decided to keep an eye on it and promptly forgot about it. That whole moving halfway across the country and not having a clue what was waiting, in house for us, job for either Z or me, or therapy-form for A. I know, excuses, excuses.

SO imagine my surprise when I noticed a little something at the beginning of May on the back of my right knee that had exploded in growth. And was like a poster for the ABCD's of melanoma, down to the black irregular color and borders. Since I tend to have "freak" as my primary reaction for serious issues, I promptly called a local dermatologist and set and appointment, and relaxed somewhat because I'd at least done something about it, as much as I could.

Then I have the appointment, the doc takes one look and gets a serious expression, and takes out the whole thing, right then and there. I mean, I have a huge chunk missing out of my right leg, directly over the tendon on my inner knee, and then had to drive home. She then tells me that the biopsy should take one to two weeks, and I need to keep the hole and the area around it moist so that when the results come back it will be easier to remove more tissue if they need to.

Needless to say, she wasn't spouting the rainbows and unicorns that I was looking for.

So I stewed over it for a day or two, cried a little bit, then had a remarkable peace about the whole thing as I waited for the results. God is good that way -- I realized that there wasn't a thing I could do about it, and He's in control, so I just -- didn't worry. Weird, right? Even my husband thought that was odd for me. Such a basic concept, yet how hard is it to truly let go of -- whatever the situation is? For me, the answer is generally "extremely". I try to puzzle out things that I can do to make things better, which is not always the best response and at times actually makes it worse. But I feel better for having tried, at least.

Results: not cancer, but not normal either. It still needed to come out. And I also learned that the doc could have sworn that it was of the "not friendly" variety, and she had planned to remove a further 1 to 2 cm chunk around the perimeter of the initial hole, and the same amount deeper than the existing chunk, and discuss further treatments if necessary. Thank goodness the biopsy came back the way it did, or I'd be facing skin grafts for the "extended excavation site". A pound of flesh, indeed. For a stupid black funny looking mole.

Moral of the story: get your butts in to see your doctor if you find something that looks funny, maybe your holey moley will be much smaller (and less painful) than mine. This stuff ain't something to mess around with, melanoma is one of the deadliest skin cancers because it has a tendency to metastasize (spread) to other areas of the body.

Remember

2009-05-23T18:06:00.000-07:00

Happy Memorial Day weekend!

We're leaving to visit my brother in Abilene after church tomorrow, and won't be back until late Monday, so I'll see you all in blogland next week.

Here's hoping your weather, choice of grilled entree (marinated portobello mushrooms and zucchini, anyone?), and family time is good on Monday!

Please take just a brief moment on this Memorial Day to remember those who have served in the military; some have paid the ultimate price for our freedoms that we enjoy today, including the ability to peaceably express our opinions.

Thank You.

The Toilet Bowl, part 17,689 B

2009-05-19T10:30:00.000-07:00

A has been consistently using the toilet when he gets up in the morning, and has while he's been at school for the last three days. And there was great rejoicing in the land. There are still accidents, but progress is progress.

At the other end of the spectrum, Miss K finally decided that keeping her pants dry was a worthy cause -- I bribed her with a sticker chart, and once she filled it up by keeping her pants dry and only doing her business in the toilet, then she got to wear brand new Tinkerbell and Ariel underpants.

The downside to that little trick was once she'd accomplished filling the chart and getting to wear the big girl panties, she went back to going whereever she felt like it, whenever she felt like it.

So, at least now we know she CAN do it, now it's just a matter of willpower.

The playoffs continue.

Oy.

Kid Stuff

2009-05-16T13:53:00.000-07:00

The kiddos are doing great! They're getting adjusted, albeit s-l-o-w-l-y in some ways. I can't decide if photos of Maryland friends are helping or hindering, but oh well they're staying out on display. A fantabulous graphic designer friend (yes, Shell, that would be YOU) made us an "ABC" book for our family out of pictures from all the times we'd spent at their home over the last 5 years. And the kids fight over it almost daily. K carries it from room to room, and we never know exactly where it's going to wind up. I found it in my bathroom cabinet last week...

A is loving school, in spite of the early hour he has to get on the racebus (6:25ish a.m.). We still have the same bus driver but she has been driving a much larger bus this week, so I'm afraid she is failing the NASCAR qualifiers this go-round. You have to slow down too much to go around corners with the extra long school buses you know. Still, I have a feeling I'll go back to calling it Mario Andretti's school bus once she gets hers fixed.

A has been doing great at his writing skills! He has to practice writing his name and all the letters in the alphabet every day at school, first by tracing over the letters and then trying it "solo", so to speak, and we're getting fairly legible results. Yay! His new teacher and school OT can tell he really hates the pencil/pen work though, because it uses those darned fine motor skills he has so much trouble with. A's hand strength, while improving, is still not quite up to where it needs to be just yet. His school OT has given him a squeezy "koosh ball"-looking thing that changes color from purple to pink if you squeeze it really hard; A has to change the color to pink using only one hand for 10 repititions, and then do the same thing with the other hand. If he uses both hands at the same time, we start over. A really hates that ball.

He reads pretty well now; his favorite books are Dr. Seuss books, especially Green Eggs and Ham, but he'll read anything. He reads the back of DVD cases, posters at the grocery store, and the bulletin at church too. A usually reads out loud, so it's also helping with his verbal skills at the same time.

Other improvements have been attempts to color in the lines of a printed picture, cutting pictures out with scissors and glueing them onto another sheet of paper -- by himself, and making whatever the craft of the day is. Some days he still needs hand-over-hand with the scissors or pencils, but he's doing more things independently now. He has even started cutting along curvy lines with a very obviously deliberate swerve to his cutouts.

A brings home a huge stack of artwork and worksheets every Friday in his backpack so we (his parents) can see what he's doing and what he still needs to work on. He actually seems somewhat interested in our reactions to his work, once we can flag him down to try to talk to him about it. He doesn't seek out approval generally, we have to try to get his attention to show him we're looking at his work. But when we say something or ask about one of his papers and show it to him, he gets this little proud smirk like, "Yeah, I did that." Endearing, and A looks a lot like his daddy when he does this.

The only downside to A getting used to his school routine is that he'll still get up around 6 a.m., even on the weekends. I pray to sleep in until at least 7:00. (I should just shoot for the stars and ask for 8). Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person?

Miss K is a little bundle of sunshine herself most mornings. She's up between 6:30 and 7 a.m. and comes running into our room yelling, "Daddy! Mommy! The sun goes up!!!" This is very exciting to her that the sun comes up each morning, so we hear about it. Every day. At bedtime, we get a dejected, "Oh...the sun goes down." K hates to go to sleep. She's even weaned herself off of a daily nap, much to mommy's chagrin.

K loves dress-up, dancing, and reading books. In fact, the little booger can already read some words and is working on her writing skills. She can get most of the alphabet written down all by herself, although we have noticed that she makes her "C" and "D" backwards. Something to watch. K also loves to draw and likes to create circles, triangles, and squares. She has recently discovered the joys of sidewalk chalk and has had a blast decorating the back patio.

Another favorite thing to do is help mommy and daddy cook. The process takes twice as long when she "helps", but she absolutely loves it. I never know what she's going to choose to wear when we're cooking. Sometimes it's a ballet skirt; sometimes it's nothing but her underwear and frog rain boots. As the muse strikes, I suppose. We made "monkey bread" for breakfast today, which she thought was hilarious -- she kept looking for the monkeys and wanted to open the oven to see if they were in there yet.

K is loving having Daddy home during the day, because he gets to play with her during what would normally be "water cooler breaks". She also gets exclusive mommy and daddy time throughout the day, so her world is all good right now.

Three Weeks (and Counting)

2009-05-09T19:33:00.000-07:00

Greetings, all....I have not fallen off the planet or been ravaged by wild Texas pigs or anything.

Stuff has just been cuh-RAY-zee at my end of the zoo.

For starters, the lovely reaction I had to the sulfa drug took a full six days to get out of my system -- and for the duration I had a rash, hives, and itched like mad. It was like getting the chicken pox all over again, an experience I never thought I'd repeat. (I got them on my sixth birthday, at my grandparents' house. In south Florida at the end of June. And had to ride in the back seat of a naugahyde-upholstered station wagon with no air conditioning for 3 hours back to my house. Oh, the joy. And the itching.)

Sooo -- the stuff the doctor put me on was some pretty high-powered steroids and a strong antihistamine. This combination eventually took care of the problem, but basically had me "under the influence" for the duration. I tried driving to church on Sunday through a residential area....bad idea; someone else drove home because it looked like I was drunk. What a marvelous impression to give our new church. Oh, yes, and my face was still bright red up until about Tuesday of this past week.

(For those of you who are familiar with the Chicago Benadryl incident, this go-round was not quite so loopy or giggly...but I couldn't walk a straight line and spent most of week sleeping. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Chicago Benadryl incident, well, that may have to be elaborated on. Later. Maybe.)

The kids did fine. A had school during the weekdays, so I'd get up at 6, slam into a few walls and somehow get him out to the bus before stumbling back into the house and diving onto the sofa. When Miss K got up, PBS stations were my best friends -- I was in the living room with her, but pretty much in a stupor. (Incidentally, Sesame Street is really interesting when you're on mind-altering drugs. I may have created some new characters and dialogue, but I'm not sure).

Z actually works from home, so he could leave the door open to where he was working and keep an ear out for any "uh-oh"s emanating from the living room (mine or K's). What a fantastic blessing that he was home that week; he does have to travel here and there, from L.A. to D.C., and points in between.

Until he developed the stomach bug on Friday. Then things got interesting.

Then I got it on Tuesday morning, and things got even more interesting. I could not take my last dose of the meds, and you're not supposed to just quit taking them, you have to gradually come off of them. So of course my blood pressure shot up. Yee haw.

Here's a leetle tip: if there is any chance at all that you may develop a stomach virus, do not cook a very spicy marinara sauce and penne the night before.

SO after all that got out of our systems -- we've been fine! We had the sister of a dear friend move down here last week, and we watched her 21-month old daughter on Saturday while she got settled into her new house. K was very excited, because she played with this little girl in Maryland. K heaved a big sigh and said, "Daddy! We're home!" after J arrived at our house.

This has been an ongoing struggle with K -- she keeps asking us when we're going home (to Maryland), and we keep explaining that we live in Texas now. Things seem to be sinking in now that most of the house is unpacked and we have had the same routine now for three weeks.

Z has actually been here in Texas for three weeks now, wow! It's nice settling into a steady routine. I keep forgetting that I have been here a month longer than he has, and that he still doesn't know where some things are in town, though.

Kid updates soon -- although I will leave you with this little tidbit. Z bought some peach sherbet for dessert at the store, as a special treat because it's been up in the 90's pretty steadily for a couple of weeks now. As he was dishing it out, he asked K if she was ready for some sherbet. She said no, and had a doubtful expression on her face. This, coming from a girl who likes anything spelled "frozen dessert". It took her a minute to try it, after she saw mom and dad and her brother enjoying their bowls of sherbet.

We couldn't figure out her reticence until after she took a bite. Her eyes got really big, and she smiled, and said, "OH! This is so yummy! I like squirrel butt!"

I guess I'd be hesitant about trying something called "squirrel butt" too....

A Rash Decision

2009-04-22T19:15:00.001-07:00

OK, this is going to be short and I'm going to be laying low for a few days.

The antibiotic the doc put me on last week was a sulfa drug, and I did fine until this morning after my next-to-last dose. A curious thing happened next: I developed a weird rash that kept expanding.

Then I wasn't fine, got dizzy and had breathing problems -- so a quick emergency trip and a shot in the butt later, I'm home with prednizone and some other antihistamine thing and all of the looopy side effectses. Oh, and apparently I can't take Benadryl anymore either because that made it worse. Learned something new.

I'm tired, don't care if this is all spelled right or not, and I'm going to go nurse the rash that is covering the entirety of my body. Under the hair on my head, in my eyelids and throat, all the way down to my toes.

Talk more this weekend when I get out of this stuff, in the meantime I'd appreciate your prayers because I am going to have to wade through the fatigue to keep kid wrangling while Z works. gnight.

It's Electrifyin'!

2009-04-21T16:42:00.000-07:00

Hey, all ~

The good news is, I found the camera and have taken a bunch of great pictures of things I can't wait to share with all of you.

The bad news is, right before I made yet another eternal 3+ -- emphasis on the "+" -- hour trek up to the airport to pick up Z (last time! He's home now!) our little single story house received a direct hit by lightning on Friday afternoon and fried quite a bit of our electronics, despite surge protectors on all of it. Darn it! Doesn't Mother Nature know that fried things are bad for your health?

The lightning damaged the following:
old unused satellite dish
blew the breakers/fuses in the house
sound system
input #1 on the new flat screen TV (where it hooks up to the cable box or DVD player)
computer CPU
keyboard
mouse
cables in the walls
internet modem
cable box
port on the printer (weird -- the printer will work if you plug it into the wall and use it as a copier, but it can't communicate or send info to a computer because the port itself is fried, a brand new USB cable and various other attempts to fix it did nothing. My brilliant hubby, the IT guy, had some odd sounding mumblings when he discovered this little unusual tidbit, but nothing discernable from across the room where I was sitting.)

Funnily enough, the light and vent fan over the stove had quit working about two weeks prior to this event, and they work just fine now.

Luckily there was no fire, although there are charred (yes, charred) bits of an old satellite dish in my garbage can (formerly strewn across the yard). Not ours. The previous tenants left it up there, so at least it wasn't actively in use or anything. K and I are fine (we were the only ones home at that time -- and darn it, my hair is still frizzy and curly. I guess I have an excuse now).

We have already gotten a new keyboard, mouse, and printer and had the cable and internet guys out to fiddle with the house wiring today. We still haven't seen the electrician yet, but we've not experienced anything negative so far and we've been using lights and cooking. So everything is probably OK. Yay! Sesame Street in the mornings again so I can carve out an hour to cram in dishes and folding laundry in peace. Yay. And the camera and dock had not been hooked up the computer yet, so they're fine. Yay.

(Although, I always covet new camera toys and might not have been devestated if our really (really) old camera had bit the dust).

The bad news: our renters insurance does not cover things like this, because it is considered "an act of God".

The good news: our surge protector companies will cover the items, but we have to mail the items to them, let them assess the equipment and determine that surge overload did indeed cause the problem, and then they will issue a store credit somewhere so we can get new unfried equipment. Which means we have to figure out what one store would have everything we need with the best prices. We tend to shop around for the best deal under normal circumstances. On the other hand, if they're paying for it, that extra 50 bucks on one item really doesn't affect us so much I guess.

The bad news: if we do that, we lose everything on the old computer's hard drive, if it is at all salvagable. Including family pictures since A was about 6 months old (we never could afford to have many printed, but I could do all sorts of things digitally to keep grandparents happy), and lots of music files for church -- which Z uses several times weekly to prepare for services. And my design software... Some of it is backed up, but not all of it. I'm constantly taking pictures; I feel wasteful to pop in a new disk every day for its paltry photo count, just to back it up. And really, whodathunkit? How often does your house get struck by lightning anyway? Argh. I'm experiencing the agony of delete. I'm also going to have to try to remember all the websites and resources I had saved under "favorites" for helping A with his autism, or several "just for fun" sites, whenever we get the house computer. Which may be a few months from now, so I will probably be desperately surfing here in the next couple of evenings -- well, except tomorrow, it's Weds Bible study -- and write them down while I can still remember how to navigate to them.

Bottom line: Z can possibly save some or all of the information if he keeps the CPU, we eat the cost of a new one, and he can tinker with it. Or we can save a thousand bucks or so and just let it go. If it winds up being the latter, I will shed a tear (or forty-two) over the lost photographs, but would actually be more upset over the loss of our entire audio archives. We had over 1,000 songs in our database. That's going to be expensive to replace, even if you can go to iTunes or Amazon for .99 a pop. We've only bought a few actual albums, the rest has been accumulated over time.

The whole ordeal was actually kind of interesting, once my heart rate slowed down and my stomach returned to its rightful place (instead of in my feet). We'd had a nasty storm that morning complete with hail and lots of the aforementioned lightning, but it had been quiet for about 2 hours. I gave K a bath, did some dishes, and had just pulled her out of the tub about 5 minutes before this sucker came out of NOWHERE. There was no warning, no distant rumblies to indicate anything storm-wise was approaching. I guess WE were the warning for everyone else.

I was standing by one of our front windows watching for my son's school bus, idly watching a neighbor across the street come out of his house, zip up his jacket, and nonchalantly start strolling down the sidewalk to the community mailbox. (We have those stupid communal boxes on a post, instead of delivery to the houses. Yuck.)

Then it hit. It was a fascinating thing -- interesting because I have never experienced anything like it (and hope to avoid it in the future). The house across the street was literally whited out (is that even a phrase?), I could not see it at all, and simultaneously there was this loud sizzly banging sound (think of about 200 or so cannons at the end of the 1812 Overture, positioned directly behind your head) -- and everything electric in the house fell silent or dark. I felt like I'd been hit in the stomach with something, and both K and I actually leapt up off the floor when it happened. She started screaming, of course (truth be told, I might have let out a yelp while I was jumping up in the air, but I really don't remember). The guy across the street was in a dead sprint back to his house as soon as I could see out the window again -- if he wasn't a blue ribbon winner in high school track meets, he sure could have been on Friday. Dude was moving it. Can you blame him?

And then, after pulling myself together and throwing the extremely hot and smelly galvanized sound system out into the rain so the smoldering ruin didn't catch my house on fire, and getting my son off Mario Andretti's school bus, I left for the airport. I just prayed the house didn't burn down.

About, oh, 15 minutes into the trek, my son decided to share with K and I that he had received a stomach virus from a classmate at school. Fun times, especially since it was pouring rain by that point and I had only brought one change of clothes for him. I (correctly) surmised that there would be some serious delayage due to the weather, and I (also correctly) surmised that Mr. A was not quite finished yet and had more of that fount of knowledge to share -- so we grimly pressed on in the vomitmobile. Z's first word was, "Wheeeeewwwwww!" when he climbed into the car three and a half hours later.

Hey, every day is an adventure around here. Have I said that before?

I am currently on my husband's laptop from work, upon which I cannot upload pictures (I am not allowed to incorporate that sort of software to do so on his work computer). So whenever we can get a household computer again, there will be a vat o' entries because I have pictures to share of all kinds of stuff (don't worry, no vomit pictures).

Be prepared for the blog post onslaught.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

New Joys

2009-04-14T19:59:00.000-07:00

New home, new joys.

A uses the toilet every morning now -- and is usually dry when he does so. A has also started taking the initiative to go to the bathroom when he's done a #2 (or is about to) and tries to wipe his own butt. Mommy still has to help with the final details, but this is awesome.

I'd probably do a victory dance, but I look like a grasshopper in a blender when I do anything other than classical ballet (and I'm nowhere near flexible enough to do that any more), so I generally refrain. (Arms and legs are everywhere, and it's not pretty). I do still have what my kids I used to work with called my "happy dance" -- more of an involuntary hopping, stamping kind of deal while clapping my hands or waving my fists. It does bring much amusement to Z when he sees it. And any other innocent bystanders. But I digress.

I had a meeting with the special ed board at A's school today, regarding next year. They are fully confident that A can handle being in a "typical" mainstream kindergarten classroom, so we filled out all the paperwork, etc. to get him all set up. He will also have ESY (Extended School Year) services this summer. A is enjoying school. For the most part. He still isn't too sure about that whole "rest time" phenomenon.

A has also discovered the joy of baseball! Sort of. He recently received one of those little cheap-o "tee" things that's spring loaded. You put a plastic ball on the top platform, and push it down. You can hear the gears winding down before it pops the ball up in the air, so you can try to hit it. (It sounds like a windup toy). A doesn't always make contact with the ball -- but he does sometimes. Other times he's just lazy and tries to whack it while it's still sitting on the "tee", while he shoots a grin in my direction letting me know that he knows exactly what he's doing. But this is definitely a new development, and one I'm keen to nurture.

Another recent joy for A is the discovery of the Muppets. A just loves to watch Kermit and the rest of the gang. We have "Kermit's Swamp Years" and "Muppets From Space" -- and both have gotten a lot of screen time in the last two weeks. It's interesting to see A flat out enjoying something -- with his emotions plain as day on his face. That has not always happened. It's also interesting to realize that A "gets" a lot of the humor, even though some of it is more mature or adult in nature. (And no, I don't mean "adult film industry". Duh.)

And a new joy for me: A has surprised me by offering up words of affection, unprompted. What usually happens is I'll give him a hug, or be snuggling with him on the couch, and say, "I love you, buddy." To which he'll respond in kind. But for A to offer and show affection unsolicited is a wonderful thing indeed. "I love you mommy" is one of the most wonderful sound bites on this great green earth. I think the rarity of A initiating it makes it all the more precious.

In The Zone

2009-04-09T20:28:00.000-07:00

A is getting adjusted to his new, all day school experience. He had a rough day on Tuesday -- A refused to do any of his morning work, and didn't want to eat lunch or lay down on his Lightning McQueen towel at "rest time".

The teacher sends home a folder with a daily progress report in it that sums up the day in segments. Each segment has a space for a sticker: smiley faces = great; straight line faces = some compliance issues; and frowney faces = poor choices. We had all smileys on Monday, and straight lines on Tuesday. Wednesday we had American flag stickers...I'm not entirely sure what that means. And today, his folder was not in his backpack, so I have no idea how his day went. But he didn't seem overly churlish or agitated when he got off Mario Andretti's bus today.

A does not have school tomorrow, so he'll have a long weekend to decompress before jumping back into the fray on Monday.

I have a meeting on Tuesday with the special needs teaching team to get A all set up for kindergarten next year. At this point, the special education board feels confident that he will do just fine in a typical, mainstream classroom for kindergarten -- even though he does not talk very much and still has some fine motor skills difficulties. Intellectually, he has stunned the instructors here at how much he can do. A will be expected to complete all the work a "normal" kindergartener would -- AND he will have a special ed teacher coming in for part of the day to work on some special areas, like handwriting, where there are known difficulties.

Won't know more until after my visit on Tuesday. All I know is, we're getting in the zone.

Speaking of "in the zone" -- I'm not entirely sure how this escaped my attention, but Dr Pepper is the state drink of Texas. Why, do you ask? Because it was created in Waco, and the original plant in Dublin still makes their Dr Pepper with cane sugar instead of corn syrup, and puts it in glass bottles.

May I just say this: I have tasted Dr Pepper in glass bottles before, but apparently it's the "newer" recipe using the corn syrup and never the original recipe. Until now. Oh, my 23 flavored goodness!! *swoon* There is even a museum supposed to be in Waco somewhere. I'm feeling the urge for a road trip soon...I can call it a historical excursion, right?

Did I mention that Dr Pepper is my one true vice? I can't get enough of it -- although I do limit myself to one (or less) a day. I even recently switched to Diet to combat the aforementioned vice's effects on my hip circumference -- but that's just between friends. Shhhhhh! (I figure anything that lets me get my "fix" without contributing to my nether regions deserves a sporting chance. But I'll also say there ain't nothin' like the real thing.)

Ah, Mecca! Texas is looking a whole lot nicer to me right now -- even if we did hit 91 degrees today and there are wildfires blazing in various areas of the state as I type this.

The New Normal

2009-04-08T14:02:00.000-07:00

We're getting settled in -- slowly.

We haven't quite got all our duckies in a row, but this week we're rapidly approaching the new normal:

Alarm goes off just before 6 a.m. to get a very groggy (and clumsy in that just-awakened sort of way) mommy up so she can go in and watch her oldest go through the same process in his bedroom. Check.

Early morning potty time, in which A has consistently stayed dry through the night and actually peed in the toilet. Check. (And there was great rejoicing in the land. New house + new routine = use the toilet? Apparently so! Yay!)

Get son to put his own clothes on, while Mom directs verbally and tries to keep both her eyes open at the same time. Check. (The self-dressing is also a fairly recent event -- but mom has to tie the shoes).

Wait for bus to screech to a halt in front of the house, load up A, and then watch it rip around the corner to pick up another classmate. Check. Seriously, I know it only goes 30 mph, but when it's dark and all the more sensible folks are not out and driving yet, it looks like she's trying to qualify for NASCAR.

Call husband, who is still in the D.C. area doing some training with his new job. Chat for about 5 - 10 minutes before he has to get to work. Check.

Trip over bed footboard, think some really bad things while landing on the bed, and then drift off to sleep for 15-20 minutes or so before Miss K comes toddling in. Check.

Contemplate actually making coffee, or saving time and just opening up a Dr. Pepper -- and choose the latter. Check.

Eat breakfast, and start the daily routine: dishes, laundry, and keeping K out of the mud in the backyard. Check.

Hear the ambulance sirens at least once an hour, flying towards the hospital that lies about 2 miles west of here. Check.

Hear the neighbor's dog howling along with the sirens every time they shatter the otherwise serene day. Check.

Hear my dog howling along with the other dog howling at the sirens in a midafternoon singfest. Check. (Actually, that's only happened once).

Get son off of Mario Andretti's school bus. Check.

Play outside/watch movies/read books until dinner time. Check.

Eat dinner and rig a belt to a chair to keep K in it the duration of the meal. Check.

Clean up the aftermath and let kids run outside like hooligans, in whatever state of dress they're in by that point. Check.

Bathtime for kiddies, then a video chat with daddy on the computer. Check.

A going quietly to bed at their actual bedtime like he always does, and mommy trying to convince Miss K to do the same -- for the next three hours. Check.

Mommy getting cranky and ransacking the pantry to find that bag of M&Ms she saw up there somewhere earlier in the day. Check.

Mommy drifting off to sleep sometime after midnight. Check.

Rinse, repeat. And you have to throw in something completely bizarre each day, like driving home from your local Walmart with a jungle in your car -- ferns, palms, Easter lilies for your local church on Sunday; or opening up your front door to greet your pastor -- when you forgot you were wearing a headband featuring ladybugs on giant springy antennas, courtesy of your 3-yr-old. (Thanks, Ruth!)

Keeps things from getting too boring around here.

Let's just pray that we make it all the way through the third week here in Texas without another trip to the emergency room. We're 2 for 2 right now.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

2009-04-07T14:10:00.000-07:00

Well ~ it's been over two years since I started this blogging journey, and I have never played with my basic template for it. I liked the black, simple, minimal layout; I still do. I find it very visually appealing. I like the contrast of the lighter colors with the dark. And, hey! It's black! It goes with everything, right? It's very clean without being completely stark or sterile, as I found the white version of the layout to be. (For my tastes, at least.)

I have come to the conclusion that I am not a white/cream color palatte kind of person. White on white on white, even with slight tonal and textural differences, would drive me nuts. That color palatte can lend itself to a clean professional designer look, and I know people that love decorating in that scheme, and their houses look fabulous. But it's not for me. Which means as long as we're living in our current very white-walled abode here in Texas (we're renting) there will probably be a daily heavy sigh as my gaze sweeps across the living room. Or any of the bedrooms, kitchen, or the dining room. Perhaps more than one sigh. I should probably set a daily limit.

I do love me some rich and/or vivid colors ~ I did a happy dance when we bought our home in Maryland, because I could finally escape the generic "apartment white" paint scheme I'd lived with all my life, even into adulthood (the exception being an old house with scary wallpaper in my early post-collegiate years). I painted my entry hallway and wall going up the staircase "fire engine red" in our Maryland home, if you recall* ~ but.

But I think a red or lime green background for the ol' blog may be just too much. Wasn't there a study done indicating that red was one of the hardest colors to see (in written format)? I think it related to whiteboard marker usage, if I recall correctly.

But maybe it's just my aging eyes, but it seems so much more difficult to read lighter print on a dark background than it is the "typical" way of dark print on a lighter background. Having your eyeballs assaulted by a backlit neon green screen while you are trying to decipher the text is also really not nice, and I really do want to be nice to all you people who are kind enough to stop in to see my latest musings/ramblings.

Either way ~ new state, new house, new look to the blog. We're all about transitions here. And preventing eyestrain.

It will probably change again in the next few days while I play around some more...I can't believe I haven't really messed with my blog set-up before now. I can't leave anything alone for very long. It has to be rearranged, altered somehow ~ whether "it" is furniture or recipes. Or artwork. I even go back and edit my blog entries after I post them -- and I never post them without some critical considering of the content. Most of the changes are due to errors, whether perceived or actual.

Did I mention that I am a card-carrying perfectionist, and even though my brain logically realizes that I'll never attain the truly perfect, I feel compelled to try anyway? So I expect I'll get something I'm (mostly) happy with layout-wise soon...and then I'll change it again after a while. Right now I'm playing with earthy colors on here, so we'll see where it goes.
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*when I made the decision to go with that bold red for the hallway/stairway/upstairs landing, my husband was skeptical. Or scared. Or both. Perhaps it is because I do have a habit of changing things up every so often, and red paint is very difficult to paint over (even with Kilz). Or perhaps his misgivings were because when we opened up the can, the paint looked more fuchsia than red in its liquid form. No worries, he loved it when it was finished and dry.

And Last Week...

2009-04-06T08:29:00.000-07:00

Wow! What an eventful week, give or take a couple of days! We jumped in with everything we had and are just trying to keep up.

FIRST, the furniture arrived Friday morning the 27th. Yay! Real live beds! Real live chairs and a table to eat on! Real live dishes! True to the Mover's Code of Really Abysmal Packing (CRAP, for short), none of the boxes' labels really accurately describe the contents -- so it's like Christmas morning every time I open a box. I never know what I'll find, other than a guarantee of copious amounts of paper. (One box, marked simply as "handbags", contained 2 purses; some toys from K's room; part of an upright oscillating fan; a few VHS tapes; a stuffed frog pillow; a couple of baskets; a dog toy; and a small, pink, flip-top garbage can -- mine from my office.) I worked like a mad woman to get the kitchen at least unpacked (but not completely put away) Friday night.

Adding to the mix, Z's dad finished his week-long training in San Antonio and also arrived last Friday evening, to visit with his wife and the rest of us. I love having family come visit, so it was happy chaos with A and K scrambling to see who could wedge themselves deeper into his lap, and shrieking with laughter. I also had to figure out how, in unfamiliar territory and in the dark, to get to the local Ryan's restaurant, which was separated from the road I knew by a large moat. I figured it out, but not without a few wrong turns and narrowly missing a Cadillac.

Dad and Mom (Z's) drove all the way to the airport to pick up Z on Saturday morning, 1) so that he and mom could have some "alone" time together to talk and catch up after being separated for a week, and 2) so Z's parents could actually visit with Z somewhat on the 3+ hour return trip. Z's dad had to leave for conference in Las Vegas on Sunday afternoon, so it was visit with Z then or never.

While they were gone, I kicked into "High Nesting Mode" (it shares some symptoms with mad cow disease) and got the living room, kids' rooms, and the bathrooms unpacked on Saturday morning before Z arrived home. I think my military pedigree, first as a "brat" and secondly as a wife, has served me well. This is a day to remember, for sure. I'm calling this memorable event the "Unpacking Melee of March '09". I could take a day each year at the end of March and celebrate it in memoriam by throwing paper, tape, and cardboard everywhere and dumping the entire contents of the house into the living room, but I think that my memory and the accompanying involuntary twitches will serve just fine.

Z got back to our house around 3 in the afternoon, we went to set up the chairs and such for the next morning's church at 7 p.m. (we are currently meeting in an elementary school until we can get our own building), and got home after 9 p.m. -- and then Z and I had to run to Wallyworld to scrounge a cable for the preacher's new mike. The one we had was too short.

Got home, slept, got up and went to church, left Mom and Dad at church with the kids and zipped immediately following service to drive the 3 hours back to the airport to drop Z off, then drove home (which took over 4 hours thanks to construction and idiots who tried to drive up the emergency lane to cut in front of the already slow-moving traffic merging into one lane), went to a church business meeting since Z wasn't there, and got home around 8 p.m. Z was actually on Texas ground for 26 hours before he had to fly back to D.C., and most of that time was either in the car, sleeping, or at church.

The next day I continued the "let's enroll in school" circus for A. The first school I had gone to on Thursday the 26th (the one we are zoned for) is actually an accelerated learning school that is bilingual, pre-k through fifth. Oddly, the second language is French; I figured it would be Spanish in these parts. The office receptionist was a little snooty and coolly asked where my son was, because he had to start on the day he was registered. I'd left A at home with Z's mom to get the paperwork portion finished, because A does not do well in strange places -- especially when he gets bored. Boredom just encourages playing with his God given toys, if you catch my drift, and that's not exactly the best first impression his new school needs.

When I explained that my son has some special needs and that I would go home and get him after the paperwork portion was completed, she got a distasteful look on her face and directed me to the special needs coordinator for the district, who had just happened to walk into the office at that very moment. Mrs. S was very nice and tactfully suggested that A attend another elementary school very close by that had the resources he would need (occupational and speech therapies). But she couldn't be there until Monday the following week, so I was to await her phone call on March 29th and meet her over there to finish enrolling A in the district. (The paperwork I received at I. Elementary is the same stuff that M. Elementary needed, so I had that portion finished already).

So I waited on Monday morning....and waited....and, no phone call. I finally called the school, and they explained that she had to take care of an emergency at another school but they had all of A's information. I headed up to the second school, which is about 3 minutes away, and was pleasantly surprised and felt pretty sure that this would actually be a much better fit for A. For starters, there's no school uniform required -- he can wear whatever he wants to. And the receptionists were very nice and very helpful. His teacher is awesome and totally used to accomodating special needs kids. She actually took time to come down and meet me in the office, took me down the hall to show me the classroom, and listened to what I was telling her about A.

Shazaam! A was registered, and could start.

Well, not so fast....it would seem that Texas has an additional vaccination that is required to be in school, one that Maryland does not require: Hepatitis A. A couldn't start school until he had his first shot in the series.

Being brand spankin' new, without a family doctor, and no longer able to use the military clinics, we had to go downtown to the health department. Which only does immunizations on Tuesday mornings, thank you very much. So, early on Tuesday I drag A with me to the local health department so he can get his shot. Z's mom was still with us, so I left K with her. Thank goodness!

I have never seen so many large graphic photographs of STDs in my life. All just boldly hanging there on the walls and displayed on little easels throughout the health department's waiting area. I was just waiting for A to realize that Hey! he's got one of those penis things too -- and then wonder where his red and black spots were. Yikes. It is actually a blessing that A doesn't talk much and that K wasn't there...I'm not sure how I would have handled his little sister loudly and repeatedly asking what each picture was.

I have also never seen so many scared-looking teenaged girls, pregnant teenage girls, or teenage girls with babies gathered in one place, either. It was actually pretty sad.

But -- we eventually got the shot (an hour and a half after arriving), and after a screaming fit (A's, not mine) made it to school for A to start on Tuesday morning. He has school full day here. He has to be at school at 7:00 a.m., when the bus arrives, and leaves at 2:45. For pre-school. Granted, breakfast is at 7 a.m., and school doesn't start until 7:25, but I'm not going to let him ride the bus and then just sit there and wait while all the other kids are eating. Plus, it really does simplify things from our end at home: wake him up, change his clothes, and put him on the bus at 6:30 -- they'll take care of breakfast and lunch. Today (Monday, April 6th) is his first day on the bus, so we'll see how it goes; I've been taking him to and from school last Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

BUT. Here's where things got interesting:

The school nurse called me at 11 a.m. on Thursday because A was screaming in pain. He would calm down, and then start up again and double over at the waist. I stayed with him at school until about noon, and then took him home. His lower abdomen was distended and very hard, and tender to the touch at this point, so we wound up in the emergency room (trip numero dos) and stayed there until well after 8 p.m. The doctors kept hemming and hawing over whether they were going to admit A or not, and finally decided not to -- but he had to come in the next day for more tests and examinations. A sedative, a cat scan (after the sedative), and three doses of morphine later, it was finally determined that the problem was not his appendix (Thank God) but he actually had a severe monstrous blockage of his lower intestine.

Think constipation, but on a much larger scale. A's digestive system, for whatever reason, has always been a bit slow, and he's had some difficulties toileting at times (which has made potty training doubly difficult). We don't know if this is a feature of his autism and subsequent digestive issues, or if that's just the way he would be even without the autism. A had been providing us with small B.M.s every day, but nothing overly much since just before we moved (just over two weeks ago). A was put on an antibiotic for an ear infection at that time, and that's what the doctors think started the whole process (those antibiotics can stop you up like nobody's business). That, combined with the move and sitting for three days straight in the car, the stress of having his entire routine changed (yup, stress can "gitcha" too), and then eating a primarily fast food diet for a couple of weeks all added up to one large problem. And A, because of his communication challenges, had no way to tell us he was not feeling well or uncomfortable until it got bad enough for him to scream and cry.

To prevent having to do surgery (because the obstruction was so severe) the doctors were actually giving A adult doses of laxatives, both orally and in the other end to try to move things along. We had a "blessed event" about an hour after we got home, but nothing at the hospital, and nothing else after.

Friday, A was still screaming occasionally with pain, and the doctors gave us yet another prescription for another type of laxative, along with a myriad of rear end treatments and some pain meds. (I purchased some vinyl gloves on my own, just because of what we're dealing with here. I can always use them to cook broccoli if I don't use the whole box dealing with A. Oh, yeah, I'm allergic to broccoli by the way, can't even touch it without breaking out in hives. I suppose that would have been a weird statement without that knowledge).

We left straight from the doctor's office to take Z's mom to where the airport is. She had to be at the airport at 4:45 a.m. Saturday, and we didn't want to leave our house at 1:30 a.m. to make the trek over there, so we stayed the night Friday at a hotel near the airport and took her over the next morning. Meanwhile, A was still dealing with his issues, so that was fun. I had the singularly nasty experience of giving my son a suppository, which I pray won't ever be necessary again, and even that didn't do a thing! It took until Sunday after church to get everything else "taken care of", but I think we're finally sufficiently recovered. A has been acting his typical self since about 2:00 yesterday afternoon.

A rode the bus this morning for the first time, so I'll see him again at 3 or so this afternoon -- provided I don't get yet another phone call from the school requesting my presence. So -- today I'm catching up on housework and other things. I neglected to get to the dining room and my bedroom in the Unpacking Melee of March '09, so I look forward to getting out of the Picasso stage very soon. (OH, you know. When you move, everything in the house is a study in "cubism". Is it a chair? Is it a table? It's both! It must all be from his "brown" period, though...)

Belt Buckle Top Ten

2009-04-06T05:57:00.000-07:00

I am a list maker; I can generally make sense of or organize things after I get it all laid out. Lists are made for everything...shopping, daily tasks, goals. If there ever comes a time when there is nothing to write and type on or with, I'm going to be in bad shape. You might even say I'd be listless. (Yeah, I know -- but there's no one here to throw something at me so the lame jokes are presented in relative safety. I blame sleep deprivation, which I will explain in another post.)

There is something here in Texas that I haven't quite been able to wrap my brain around just yet, though, so I'm making a list to try to make sense of it: People here wear belt buckles the size of their heads. Why? Who knows. I'm sure there is a list already in existence out there making the internet rounds (via multi-forwarded e-mail format), but I haven't seen it yet -- so here's my take on the issue:

TOP TEN REASONS TEXANS WEAR ENORMOUS BELT BUCKLES

10. State law? OK, probably not -- although I do think it might be a state law for every family to own a large pickup truck. I do know that if you want to "fit in" and look like a native, you can't go wrong with a hub-cap-sized buckle at your waist. Show your state pride! Wear a belt buckle the size of your state! (My apologies to Rhode Island).

9. Bling Bling. Men in New Yawk wear gold necklaces. Men in Washington, D.C. wear tie tacks. Men (and some women) in Texas wear large, shiny belt buckles. It's the ultimate fashion must for that "put together" Texan look, closely followed by cowboy hats and boots. (Spurs are optional for dressy occasions.)

8. Fastener. Used to fasten the belt and hold up one's pants. What? You were expecting something else?

7. Name Tag. If you ever forget your name or how to spell it, just look down at your belt buckle...I've seen several that have the name of the owner on it. I suppose it's a good theft deterrent, too: no one is likely to steal your belt if your name is on it.

6. Advertising. Nothing says "Come breed with us!" like a huge belt buckle the size of a dinner plate emblazoned with an anatomically correct bull and the name of the ranch where the stud resides (along with "breeders" carefully spelled out under the picture). A picture sometimes says more than words, right? This one says, "We're good to go!"

5. Romantic Gesture/Symbol of Love. Nothin' says lovin' like "John and Amy" or "Mom" on your waistband, along with a picture of longhorn cattle. I suppose it is less permanent than a tattoo, in case you need to change it.

4. Safety. If you're out doing some hard-core cattle wrangling and then realize that you're lost, you can use your shiny belt buckle as a device to signal for help, using the sun. You can also use it as a weapon if you run out of ammo; just whip your belt off and beat the snot out of your foe, whether it's a feral hog or a mugger.

3. Exercise aid. Given the size of the buckles, it comes as no surprise that they have got some weight to them. Keep wearing it and you're guaranteed to lose some weight...and possibly bow your legs while you're at it, depending on the size you're wearing. Ever wonder why some cowboys swagger?

2. Trophy. Hockey has the Stanley Cup, which has the names of all the winning team members inscribed on it, and is displayed at the home arena. (GO RED WINGS by the way!). Rodeo has a belt buckle with the name of the winner inscribed on it, but the (slightly) smaller size makes it more portable and demonstrates the strength of the wearer. See "exercise aid" above.

And the number one reason Texans wear belt buckles:

1. Cover up. I have observed that a good many Texan men love to wear very (very) tight jeans. The large belt buckle provides them a way to hide their, ah, "panhandle".

Notice:

2009-03-25T20:12:00.000-07:00

Hey, just a friendly notification that I don't use my kids' names on here, and I don't advertise exactly where I live either.

After I'd had my blog up for a while, I learned on the news about another mom who had a special needs child that had something unspeakable happen: a child predator read her blog, figured out where she lived, and knew exactly what her kid's name was, how old she was, and what her disabilities were -- I don't remember the details (I've probably blocked them out) but I immediately went into my blog, all the way back to the first post, and changed all names to initial only. This sounds like one of those eternally circulating urban legend e-mails, but this one was unfortunately very true.

Seeing as how A doesn't really talk or communicate well, and seeing as how he is a beautiful kid (as is his sister), and there are a lot of weirdos out there, I acted on the better part of safety.

Call me paranoid, whatever.

But yeah, I don't use my family's names here. I had to delete a recent comment because I couldn't just edit the one word (sorry Mel!) and figured I'd put up a post explaining why. I'm not being a complete wench, just a cautious momma.

Seize the Day

2009-03-24T12:31:00.000-07:00

Well, tradition holds: no long-distance move is ever complete without a late night trip to the local emergency room, within a week after arriving at our new destination. As an added bonus, Z is currently training halfway across the country and is not home. This time, however, it wasn't me with some rare life-threatening condition (which is what has happened in the past); Miss K is a trooper and took one for the team.

It's funny; I was actually waiting for something to happen and watching for it, and fate* did not let me down.

It would seem that there was some overly exuberant jumping on Mommy and Daddy's air mattress, and K didn't land quite right. Actually, she belly flopped. Hard. And landed on her face before the rest of her body connected to the bed. I was in the room and picked her up immediately, she was screaming and grabbing her neck. Then, one of the worst things a mom can see happened: she stopped screaming, arched her back, and then her eyes rolled up in the back of her head and she had clenched her jaw and was out cold. It lasted less than a minute, but it was not pleasant for either of the adults witnessing this.

Z's mother is staying with us for a couple of weeks, so she stayed at the house with A while I flew to the hospital with K. Flew, as in, I still have out of state tags so I kept one eye on my rearview mirror while driving as quickly as I safely could, but not exactly in keeping with the local speed limit. While we were in the waiting room, K regained her color and started acting perfectly normal. As in, flirting with the cute boys and a toothless old man with a cane, and giving hugs to a 10-yr-old girl waiting with her mother. The old man was very surprised, and said, "She's not scared of much, is she." A statement rather than a question.

Results: K is just fine.

She is perfectly normal on every test they could run, although her pupils are mildly dilated. They also did a CT scan on her that -- bless the techs -- K screamed and fought the entire procedure. She had to be wrapped up like a burrito and held in place because she just would not hold still -- and K still managed to worm her right arm out and start hitting the woman holding her head steady. To say that K was not happy would be a huge, huge understatement. I'm thinking of buying a bunch of earplugs for the techs as a "thank you", just in case they ever get another screamer in there. My ears were ringing after the ordeal was over, so I know theirs had to be as well.

The doctor did ask about her prior history and was very interested when I said the only hospitalization she'd ever had was for a seizure incident right after she turned one. Based on the description, it sounds like she may have had another mini seizure. The doc hastened to say that it is not at all uncommon in small children to have a reaction like that after a trauma event -- the brain and nerves don't know how to handle the strong stimuli and just kind of freeze up, or pause for a few seconds. And landing on her head and neck the way she did, it probably popped those nerves in there pretty hard so there was a tremendous amount of pain going on.

We're watching her. We were discharged with instructions for a concussion and are supposed to note if her pupils change size, she gets a fever, or starts vomiting profusely.

Only my daughter would get a concussion and possibly have a seizure from landing wrong on an air mattress. *sigh*

We got home after midnight, and I brought her in to sleep with me. She had nightmares (probably from the CT scan) every 30-45 minutes....and then my husband called me at 6:24 a.m., just after K had dropped off again from her latest bad dream. I am sooooo not a morning person. I think I need the mug that states "Instant Human: Just Add Coffee". It takes me a good hour after I first "wake up" to really be awake.

This morning was definitely a coffee morning. Only thing is, Z always makes the coffee and I have no clue how to do it. Combine that with the sleep deprivation from last night, and it makes for a sad situation. I read on the package that you put in one-and-a-half to two tablespoons of coffee per 6 oz cup. I only wanted one cup, so I dutifully put one-and-a-half tablespoons of grounds into the filter basket. I did remember to put a filter in there. Then I filled the pot up to the "6 cup" mark, dumped the water in, and turned it on.

That was the nastiest brew I have ingested in a long time.

Yes, I put in enough grounds for one cup....but put in water for 6 cups. Still, I was definitely awake after taking one sip of that stuff, so it still served its purpose I suppose.

K is acting completely herself today, no indication that she's in any pain anywhere. So we're good. I have a Muppet movie on in the living room -- finally. I had to do a little "percussive maintenance"* on the DVD player to get it to work. It's one of those cheap-o $15 dealies that is several years old, so it's wearing out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Fate is one of those things that is not respectful of a person's social status or age; it gets around to affecting everyone at some point. I've also noticed that "fate" is "fat" with an "e" tacked on to the end of it.

*percussive maintenance is when you beat the snot out of the offending appliance or machine with your hand, shoe, or whatever else is available. I have found that computers respond pretty well to this, despite the delicate nature of their internal electronics.

The Land of the Sonics

2009-03-20T08:06:00.000-07:00

We're gradually getting our bearings here. No one -- and I mean, no one --apparently has a map of this town, and half the roads aren't on the GPS because they're too new, so every trek is truly explorative in nature.

We did find a fabulous duck pond yesterday, complete with ducks, geese, lots of turtles, and huge goldfish or koi. I don't know the difference between large goldfish or koi but I've been assured that there is one. Um, okay. Scattered around the pond are picnic tables and trees, so we took our lunch out there. Sonic! Yay! Z and I both love being in the land of the Sonics again. The closest one to us in Maryland was over 4 hours away, and neither of us could justify that kind of drive just for a cherry limeade. Although they are quite tasty. : )

For those of you who have not had the pleasure, Sonic is a drive-in restaurant along the lines of the original A&W's. They have good fountain drinks and shakes, and serve a variety of food. You pull into a parking place, put your order in over the intercom, and a carhop brings you your food. In some places, the carhops are actually on rollerskates. (More power to 'em, I'd be likely to dump the cherry limeades all over myself and the customers if I ever tried the skating bit. Shoot, I sometimes spilled things just walking when I had my waitressing job in a cafe, but luckily never on anyone but myself.)

I like the wraps and salads at Sonic, but they also have plenty of meat to satisfy the carnivore in (most of) you, including burgers and "coneys" -- hot dogs that are a foot long. They also serve chili cheese (tater) tots, aka "coronary in a basket" -- and of course my husband ordered those to munch on yesterday. I (being above such things as that) spurned the tots, fries, and burgers and took the high road by ordering a wrap... and a strawberry milkshake -- complete with huge chunks of strawberries that got stuck in the straw several times. Yum. The fat cells in my butt rejoiced, for I was adding to their numbers...

On our meanderings yesterday we also found the planetarium, a proliferation of Chinese restaurants, several shopping centers, and an absolutely gorgeous overlook. In the area we are currently living in, it's relatively flat with few trees and a lot of dead grass. There are some flowers blooming, enough to make my sinuses give me a "Hawaiian good luck sign", but not much else. For those of you that don't know what the Hawaiian good luck sign is, Google is a wonderful thing.

A few miles from our house lies "hill country". There is a new residential development that overlooks the valley and an enormous lake that Z swears was calling to him to go fishing. These homes are not mere houses; they are more like estates, the type of homes you see on TV that are in Beverly Hills, CA. One of those homes that would easily go for $2 million plus back in Maryland, especially in the more tony neighborhoods surrounding our nation's capital. They cost -- wait for it -- $175K to $250K here.

!!!!!!!!!!!!

Definitely threw both Z and I for a loop....the price we paid for our brown fixer-upper cinderblock home in Maryland, built in 1960, was the same price some of the brand new custom built lower-priced homes with the view here -- and it was appraised at $240K when we bought it. Now that's insane. Everything costs less here -- groceries, clothing, whatever. The tax is higher, when you combine the state, county, and city but things are still cheaper here overall than they were back home. I mean, in Maryland.

Boy, that's going to take some adjustment to quit saying that.

Transition

2009-03-19T07:34:00.000-07:00

Whew!

Well, we're here in the great state of Texas. Our mantra for about the last week in Maryland and during the 1500+ mile drive down here was pretty much: Eat. Sleep. Texas (the goal).

We survived the yard sale and actually sold or gave away most everything but the couch...which didn't weigh that much, honestly, so it wasn't such a big deal to load onto the truck. We were trying to keep our weight down because we were paying movers to move us this time, and they charge you based on weight. Z's back and my hip just can't handle the loading and unloading process -- although we could have packed it all up ourselves.

We kept all the bedroom furniture, just for some continuity for the kids, especially A. We did sell the Thomas the Train toddler bed because Miss K turns 3 on Sunday and it's time for a "big girl" bed. Oh, she could still fit in the toddler bed; she'd probably still fit in it three years from now, she's so small. But the hassle of trying to move that thing combined with her birthday, we just decided to ditch the cumbersome plastic ungirly bed and get her something that will last her a bit longer. Like, through high school.

So in the meantime we're "camping out" on air mattresses and a love seat the previous owners left in the house we're renting here in Texas. I'm hoping the air mattresses hold up until the furniture gets here, because my darling K loves to bounce and jump on the "bouncy beds!".

Everything has come together beautifully! We survived the drive down here, during which Mother Nature threw nearly everything in her arsenal at us: snow, sleet, freezing rain, regular unfrozen rain, and some hail that skirted just north of us that we didn't have to drive through (yay). At least there were no tornados or hurricanes. I suppose we could say that the state of Texas hailed us on the way in....or maybe it was just warning us of the storms to come as it heats up.

I had to drive the Dodge with the kids, and Z drove his newly fixed old Honda down. The whole trip. The kids were actually pretty super about the whole thing, though the trek could be summed up with that old poem:

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
And when she was good,
She was very, very good...
And when she was bad, she was horrid!

A is so well behaved. He had one fit on the second day, about 2 hours before we stopped, but that was it. His temperamental energetic sister, on the other hand, had tantrums about, oh, every 2 hours -- the entire trip -- because she was bored and couldn't run around 28 hours at a time like she generally does. God Bless whoever invented those car DVD players. I strapped those suckers to the headrests and started a movie if the howling got really bad. Technology, sanity savers, whatever. I love 'em.

We were "pounded" by the church when we arrived here. For those unfamiliar with the term, that does not mean we got a beat-down for a welcome. "Welcome to Texas! Let me introduce you to my sweet left hook!" Rather, it means various people supplied our pantry with a pound of sugar, a pound of flour, that sort of thing, and stocked us up with toilet paper and paper towels too. Everyone is very nice, which is a relief. There is a lady here that is a cross between Tricia Hill in TN and April Brady in MD, so she is going to be a lot of fun.

Kids are adjusting. K already has 2 new best friends at church and has enjoyed running around the building, pastor's yard, and local restaurants with them. Yes, they ran around the back sitting area of a mom-and-pop Italian restaurant on Sunday, much to the chagrin of 3 sets of parents. Fabulous food, by the way.

A has not adjusted as well. Any change in his "normal" routine can cause issues, and we just changed everything. His school, church, home, therapies -- everything. We have no real furniture in the new house, so he can't even see something he recognizes other than his immediate family members. A had a couple of meltdowns on Sunday -- and by "meltdown", I mean crying, howling, and kicking and hitting whoever was next to him. Curiously, he has stopped spitting on people -- which, of course, is great.

We have noticed a HUGE increase in A's stimming -- flapping his hands, pacing and hopping, and even some spinning in circles again. He hasn't done that for a very, very long time -- almost 2 years -- so this made Z and I sit up and take notice. A has also had to go off by himself a lot, both at the business meeting Sunday evening and at Bible study last night. He just needed to get away from the crowd of unfamiliar people, I guess, and observe for a while where it was a little quieter.

Well, I have to go and get my keys from the pastor's wife. Karl and Karen took us around town today showing us various things, and apparently I lost my keys in their van. Thank God, because if the keys were anywhere else I'd have no clue how to get back to all the places we went today.

Good Old Fashioned Pancakes

2009-02-28T10:54:00.000-08:00

Growing up, my house had a tradition of making pancakes every Saturday morning. This has not happened for my family, largely due to my husband's odd work schedule -- we never knew which days he'd be off in a week, so we just kind of made them whenever.

Z had today off, so I made some pancakes this morning. We are at the "clean out the freezer, have really weird meal combinations" phase, so it was a nice (normal) break to use up some of the blueberries in the pancakes this morning. I also made a nice blueberry compote to go with it, yum!

I have a confession to make: as much as I cook from scratch, I was raised as a Bisquick girl. My mother and grandmother used it, so I did too...until money got tight and it was too expensive to buy. The other brands just don't taste as good to me, so I started hunting for a good "from scratch" pancake recipe. I found several that were....okay...they turned out really thin and rubbery, though. My cooking bible that I use as a reference for just about everything, The Joy of Cooking, also didn't supply quite what I was looking for. I'll make a recipe as directed the first time, and then make adjustments as needed if I make it again. (I am an artist after all, I can't just duplicate something -- I have to make it mine) -- but this had me stymied.

I didn't ask for much: I wanted fluff, I wanted a particular texture, and I didn't want a bad baking soda taste. I finally found one that my husband and I both like on allrecipes.com, that beats the Bisquick ones hand down. Even if I have Bisquick in the house, I'll still use this recipe. I even make it exactly like it says, I don't change a thing -- although I will occasionally add a smidge of vanilla.

My kids inhale these every time I make them, and since the toddler/preschool set have some of the most discriminating, picky palates out there, I consider these to be a hit. Num num. Now if I could just find a good scratch biscuit recipe....I do still use the Bisquick for those.

Morning Cough-y

2009-02-26T06:09:00.000-08:00

All of the flu symptoms have gone, but ONE: the annoying, loud, and body-shaking cough that, despite covering my mouth with my arm, guarantees me a wide berth from general bystanders. On the one hand, this pretty much insures my own seat on the subway or bus with room to stretch out, but on the other hand I have to tolerate dirty looks. At least it's just occasional at this point, though, so YAY!

*hack* *hack* *wheeze*

I think I'm going to lose a lung, or possibly my spleen. There's good money for those, right?

Thank God all the other stuff has abated though, I was going mad from my joints hurting -- especially climbing up and down the stairs. My 87-yr-old grandmother has some pretty bad arthritis, so this has given me some insight into what she deals with. Not fun, I'm lucky mine was just temporary.

With all the general poopy feeling in the house, though, we are seriously behind in our moving preparations. Even though we still felt yucky, I had to do "blitzkrieg cleaning" on Sunday and Monday, because we had potential renters coming to look at the house Monday evening. After a week of three of us in a malaise, the house could have possibly passed as a biohazard lab: Kleenex's overflowing the wastebaskets onto the floors, dishes piled up and out of the sink, Mount Saint Laundry in front of the washer...I think I saw a pair of my son's socks try to move across the floor on their own. A is only five, but that kid has some serious foot odor issues, has since he was a baby -- even in sandals.

Actually, it wasn't too bad, there was just stuff everywhere because I didn't have the energy to pick up toys or make my daughter do it. Clutter, clutter, added to all the stuff we'd started to pull out and go through to prepare for the move. Three piles on each floor: keep, yard sale, and throw out or freecycle.

People have offered to help, but the sorting phase is something that we really have to do. And we have opted to have a moving company come in and pack us up. We were originally planning to do this ourselves, but with our recent delays and Z's bad back, we figured it was worth it to pay for someone else to do the heavy lifting and driving the truck 1500 miles. So they come on March 9 and 10 to pack us and load the truck. There's really only one thing I can say that sums up this whole experience:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

There may be something to that "primal scream therapy"... : )

Z has moved our yard sale from this Saturday to next Saturday. And they say that women change their minds often. Heh. Hope it all sells, and if it doesn't, that freecyclers come quickly because we're running out of time, the movers come two days later.

*sigh*

*cough*

One Flu Over

2009-02-18T06:03:00.000-08:00

One flu over (mostly)....two to go.

Great googaly moogalies! I'm not sure exactly what strain of flu is "going around", but it has knocked 3 of my family members on their butts. The only one unaffected (and we're praying, uninfected) is my daughter. So far, so good. This is not the stomach virus that a lot of people mistakenly call the "flu" -- this is the real old-fashioned influenza deal, complete with sore eyelids, fever and chills, etc. Nasty stuff, that.

I had a sore throat last Weds into Thursday, so when my husband started running a fever about 11:00 Thursday night I felt really bad -- I thought I'd given him something. Alas, it would seem that he did not have whatever I'd had and I had it backwards -- I started with the fever Saturday night into early Sunday morning, and my son started during the day on Sunday. At least my guilt over sharing something is gone. But if any of you start to get it, here's what you can expect:

Our fevers have all lasted 3 days, each. Z's ended on Sunday, mine and A's finally broke on Tuesday (in a blessed, but literally drenching episode). The fevers were high, too -- A's reached 104.5 and 104.7 at different times, so it was a challenge trying to bring his fever down when mine was right around 104 myself for a couple of days. I can honestly say I don't really remember a whole lot, other than being really lethargic and hurting and trying to keep moving up and down the stairs without falling down the stairs to get damp cloths to wipe him down (the only bathroom is on the first floor). The only one of us that threw up was A, but I suspect that was because of his very high fever and the temperature differential of the liquid we were trying to get him to ingest. He only did it once.

We have all had very sore throats, probably from drainage, horrible headaches, and excessive drool. Weird, but all of us have had a little extra spit over the last few days. Z is still dealing with the headache, achy joints, and a rather nasty cough -- but I watch his progress each day, because I know that that is where I'll be two days from now. I'm still in the lightheaded, achy joint (even toes and fingers! Good grief!), pounding headache, coughing phase, as is A. But we're getting better! I'm able to get by until I start coughing, and then my head feels like it's going to explode, and my chest muscles hurt from so much coughing over the last few days.

A hasn't even cared that his routine has been completely discarded for the better part of a week now -- he's felt like doing nothing but laying on the couch. He didn't even care that I finally turned off children's programming out of desperation and watched infomercials, just for something different. Yesterday A started to play with his sister a little bit, after his fever was gone, and this morning he is behaving fairly normal -- but you can still tell he's sore. Every time he tries to flap his hands to stim, he has to stop and gets this puzzled look on his face while he rubs his wrists and fingers.

One great source of frustration is the lack of communication between A and the rest of us. He still has a tendency to repeat the last word or words of whatever you just said, rather than volunteering anything. Z and I have tried multiple times to try to get A to tell us if his head hurts, or whatever -- to no avail. The only way I know what he's feeling right now is because I'm going through it myself. You can tell he's miserable by looking at him, but not why. This has caused us some frustration in the past -- especially with ear infections -- because he never tells us if something hurts, and we have no idea unless he starts acting differently that anything is amiss. *sigh* One of these days, we're hoping we'll cross that speech hurdle...

It would appear that once again, the flu shot manufacturers missed the mark in a big way, because this year's shot had absolutely no effect on keeping any of us from getting it, nor did it really reduce the length of time or the symptoms of the flu virus we have been fighting off (as the companies that make the flu shots love to advertise). The same thing happened last year, but luckily our family was spared. Other people in our area were not so lucky. Z has to get one every year, he has no choice, because he's required to by his job.

Bless Z's heart, he is still in the service for two more weeks, and Uncle Sam doesn't care how you feel. If you're not dead, you're at work. And, in the military, if you're sick, you go to sick call. Unless it's a holiday weekend, and the commander has issued Friday as an extra day off, so the clinic is closed -- yup -- from Thursday at close of business the week prior until the following Tuesday. Without that slip, you're out of luck, and the flu does not qualify as "urgent care" so he couldn't go that route either. And since Z didn't start getting sick until late Thursday night, he was one of those "out of luck" guys who just had to suck it up and deal.

So he's been to work last Friday (with a fever of 102.7), yesterday (Tuesday) and today. Sunday and Monday he wasn't scheduled to work, so that was nice. He was scheduled to work on Saturday and since he had a fever hovering around the 103 mark they let him stay home (his new NCOIC actually has a brain -- a seriously debatable fact about the one that just left. Don't get me started).

I'm so glad he's done with the random idiocy that occurs uniquely in the military setting. I have had many, many years of experience with it (I grew up with it), and I'm really fed up with it. We are proud to have served, and are proud of those that still are and will choose to do so in the future. But there really is an appalling amount of stupid junk our soldiers have to put up with -- mostly because "we've always done it that way". Just because you've always done something a certain way doesn't mean that it's not incredibly stupid. I don't advocate changing something just to change something, but if there are obvious issues, and solutions are available to better the situation -- wouldn't it make sense to make the improvements rather than digging in your heels and refusing to implement anything new "on principle"? That just smacks of ignorance and way too much pride getting in the way. Similar to a man in the Great Depression, who refused to let anyone give food to his starving family. Because he was too proud. And then the baby died of starvation. Stupid. But it happens.

A Little Extra Protein

2009-02-14T08:36:00.000-08:00

I am not overtly frou-frou girly about much. Oh, I have my moments; I paint my toenails in the summer, and have recently started enjoying some different types of jewelry in addition to wearing my wedding rings (which is generally my only adornment). But I don't wear make-up most of the time, my usual "uniform" is either jeans and a t-shirt, or jeans and a sweatshirt, hair in a ponytail, and Birkenstocks. I catch snakes and lizards, am not scared of mice, and used to enjoy studying martial arts prior to a nasty car accident that has rendered my right hip largely immobile beyond normal walking angles.

But there is one thing....I am inexplicably freaked out by spiders and bugs. It is a true phobia -- most especially of spiders and, wait for it -- grasshoppers. Yes, grasshoppers. Completely unfounded, and ridiculous, really, but there you have it. I am terrified of them. I have thrown up when one landed on me. I know in my head that this makes no sense whatsoever, but I have never been able to even let a ladybug or firefly land on me.

Ironic, since I love gardening.

I know that bugs and spiders play a valuable role in just about everything on the planet -- not only are they part of the food chain for fish, birds, etc., but they also help break down rotting vegetation, aid in the spread of seeds and pollination itself, and some are "good" predators that keep the bad ones off of your flowers and produce. I just can't stand the little crawly things. I can look at them, but if they ever land on me, God help them -- and anyone's eardrums in the near vicinity. It is not a conscious thing, but I apparently emit a shriek loud enough and high enough in pitch to start all the neighborhood dogs up in a barking frenzy.

So, imagine my delight in discovering a little surprise in my breakfast yesterday. My husband made oatmeal and dumped some frozen blueberries into it...but didn't check over the berries or rinse them before dumping them into the oatmeal. Things were going well with the breakfast until I went crunch on something. "Hmmm," I thought, "those blueberry seeds are harder than usual...and --long? What the--?" and spit out a piece of shell, complete with leg. The rest of the bug that was left came out quickly.

I don't know if I'll be able to eat oatmeal for a while now.... I know there are many cultures worldwide that consider certain bugs to be something of a delicacy, and who eat them with great relish and don't generally die from ingesting them. However, the culture I was raised in is not one of the aforementioned ones, and this combined with my phobias just about did me in yesterday.

Let this be a lesson to always, always rinse and pick over any produce before ingesting it. Eschk!

Are You Ready For This?

2009-02-08T14:46:00.000-08:00

Are You Ready For This?

We're moving to Texas in March.

Surprised? We sure are.

With Z getting out of the Army, he has been applying for anything and everything he can -- both in his field, and literally anything else, including at a furniture store and a factory. There just ain't anything local. Nada. Zip. All those jobs that were "guaranteed" just one year ago when he started looking have vanished thanks to the state of the economy, despite his "brilliant" resume by industry standards.

Z has been working odd hours, 24-hour shifts, etc. for the last six years and has very firmly decided that he absolutely will not work anywhere that won't give him Sundays off. He has been frustrated with his schedule not allowing him to be more active in our current church, and was really looking forward to the next chapter where we could spend a lot more time doing various projects and activities where needed.

Money is certainly not everything, we realize that even as young as we are. In fact, he did turn down an $80K/yr job in Atlanta. It required a lot of international travel to places one really does not need to be right now, and when he would be home it would be a 24-hr schedule that rotated throughout the week. No, thanks. Not only would it continue to mess up our family life, but would still prevent being active in a church.

But -- the doors have been opening in Texas, which was not anywhere in our thoughts or aspirations.

Texas? Really????

The only things I know about Texas are: it's a big state, it could legally secede from the union (and is the only state with this right), it gets really hot in the summer, it has a couple of large cities, and it's pretty much scrubby brush once you get past Dallas/Ft Worth area. Oh, and they have cows, one type of which is the mascot for a rather well-known university. Well, and I know a couple of people that live there/used to live there. But it has been made more and more abundantly clear, in too many odd ways that can be listed here, that this is where we're being led to.

Z has two positions available, and a possible third and fourth to choose from once we get down there. The first job he has: we are helping to start a church plant geared towards the needs of some of our war veterans who are returning from abroad -- and their families who have been left behind during the deployment. There really isn't anything in the area to minister to these people, which is astounding given the sheer volume of our troops that are in and out of this location routinely. The divorce rate and suicide rate has been astronomically increasing among our military members and is currently at its highest level, ever. This is in large part because of the stressors related to our service members' missions, and inadequate resources for counseling this sort of situation either before they leave or when they return. The old standby just isn't cutting it any more -- war time, like it or not, has to have a different response than the one given in a time of peace -- although the ultimate instruction manual that really helps people (the Bible) remains the same, of course. Of all places that should want to help, it should be the church, right?

Z will get a part-time paycheck from the church until it is established -- and is guaranteed to be able to be more active at church since it's his job! God hears your prayers, truly, although He has shown once again that He answers them in ways you don't expect sometimes. To supplement the income, Z has a final interview for a engineering position with a particular company on Tuesday -- in the words of the manager, "because they have to get that formality out of the way". We'll know more in a week or two once we get the formal letter from the company.

So, Z has landed at least one position in Texas, and we are leaving our house and home at the beginning of March. We're heading out, not completely sure what we'll find when we get there, but know that somehow everything will be taken care of. It's the most terrifying thing, with a weird calm assurance woven into it.

It is truly bittersweet. OUR plans were to stay here, and enjoy where we are currently at. We bought a house, we have made some very dear friends here that we'd love to grow old with, have made investments in local pastimes, shops, the elementary school for A... Ultimately, though, as the now-famous quote intimates, "It's not about YOU." We want to do what God wants more than we want to stay here, as nice as it is here.

I am going to miss my mountains, though. We are going to be in the eastern half of Texas, which has a distinct lack of mountains.

But, I suppose one up-side is that they have Sonic drive-ins there. The closest one to Z and I right now is about 4 hours away, and we have made passing comments throughout the last 6 years that we really miss them. Me for the Cherry Limeades, and Z for the chili cheese tots (also known as coronary in a cardboard tray).

I'll post more info as I get it. I've had no less than 10 people ask me this week if I will keep blogging. Yes, I'm going to continue blogging after we move, although there will be a hiatus while the computer is unhooked and on the truck. I don't own a notebook computer, and don't imagine my CPU would get WiFi inside a moving van. : )

Happiness for A Buck

2009-01-23T06:37:00.001-08:00

I keep hearing people say that a dollar doesn't go as far as it used to. While this may be true, one dollar has given immense pleasure to my little girl.

I found a pink dress-up skirt in the dollar bin at Target -- I snagged it. It had Miss K's name all over it: two different pinks, sparklies, and enough material to be "froofroo" girly.

Sure enough, the next morning when I gave it to her, she LOVED it. K promptly dubbed it her "ballerina skirt" and has worn it pretty much non-stop now for the last two weeks. And I do mean non-stop. We wear it to the bus stop to drop off and pick up big brother...much to the amusement of the other mothers and the drivers on the road that pass us. We wear it to the store....we wear it to sleep in...the only thing we can't do it take a bath in it or wear it to church, but K would do it in a heartbeat if we'd let her.

She is also getting plenty of exercise, because she is dancing through the house. She solemnly informed her daddy the other day, "I don't know what it is....but I have just got...to...dance!" And started jumping and twirling around, smiling so big I thought her cheeks were going to pop off.

Here she is, with the $1 skirt, over her jammies:

Pensive:

Dancing for joy after a busy morning of rearranging all the movies in the entertainment center:

And, cheesing it:

Refocus

2009-01-16T10:00:00.000-08:00

A lot of my posts lately have chronicled the craziness that is the H-- household, and its various stresses. Some triumphs, some continued challenges. There is a distinct lack of acknowledgement of the huge amounts of blessings that present themselves in the midst of the chaos, though, so I thought I'd take some time today to list a few:

The sun is out today. It may be 4 degrees, with a windchill of -12, but the sun is shining for the first time in weeks. We have had clouds with or without precipitation since just after Christmas, so an actual sunny day is fabulous!

We have a vehicle that still works and gets us whereever we need to be.

I have a wonderful husband who works hard and deals with a lot of junk at work to provide for his family. He is also a good Christian man who has his responsibilities and priorities in order and acts in his family's best interests, even if it means some sacrifice on his part. This in and of itself is probably the biggest blessing I have been given.

I have two great kids -- both of which present their own challenges to the job of parenthood -- but both of which really are good kids. My son is very sweet, and my daughter is too, when she's not being mischievous. They make me laugh several times a day at something they say or do.

I have a great dog, with blue eyes who is nice and big and fluffy. He has the absolute softest ears, and I love to rub them. It's a great partnership, because Mischa loves for me to rub his ears too.

We have a fairly snug house that keeps the elements outside and us comfortable on the inside.

I have a bathroom that works, inside the house. I know people that live out in the country that still use an outhouse.

I have a piano, and have been enjoying writing more music. I have five more songs that are in various stages of completion, and it's always a joy to tinker around and discover new possibilities.

Dr. Pepper. God Bless whoever invented the stuff! That is my one vice, I have a can nearly every day if it's available. And since my husband likes it too, it generally is in the house.

My picture window in the living room -- it's like an ever-changing art display, with its own frame. I can see the mountains and watch the seasons change on them. They start fall and winter just before we do, and you can see the colors changing gradually down the hill before our trees start changing. Then it reverses in spring and summer, and while we're enjoying full-fledged spring the new leaves are just starting to creep back up the mountains. Fascinating!

We live in a small community -- which brings with it a nice, old-fashioned style Fourth of July celebration and a very low crime rate. Yet we're within 10 minutes of any amenities we would want, in a larger town of about 70,000+.

We have a fantastic church family, which have been (and still are) a support base for us mentally, emotionally, and at times fiscally and physically when the need has arisen.

I have the ability to pick up a $3 bunch of flowers at the grocery store when we have a little extra. That seems like such a little thing....but how amazing is it that we can get fresh flowers when it's 4 degrees outside with snow on the ground? I'm glad we live in modern times and in the country that I do, to have this ability.

Speaking of, I am also blessed to live in the U S of A. Despite all its current problems, it is still one of the best places to live out there. I have enjoyed living in other countries, too, but I'm glad this is my home.

There are other things, of course. Every day brings its own special highlights and joys, woven in the middle of the normal chaos. But these are just a few.

Morning Surprise!

2009-01-15T09:38:00.000-08:00

We have had quite the morning of surprises today.

First, it snowed enough that all the schools were closed. Snow Day! When I was out early this morning, I noticed that the car tires had left interesting tracks over our rocky driveway. This looks like a floor from a childhood home in Florida; tile with bits of other stuff thrown in, minus the ridges of course.

Unfortunately for my son, he is not going to be able to enjoy it because he started having a stomach bug in the wee hours of the morning....which I didn't realize until he came into my room, upset, and climbed into my bed under the covers with me. I sleepily reached out to give him a hug and snuggle with him and woke up in a hurry. Yuck. Gotta love mothers; no one else would touch throw-up, poo poo panties, or places where the dog has gotten sick.

Speaking of, our dog has a vet visit today. He was also sick overnight, and it doesn't look really good. We are praying that it's just a reaction to some medication he was put on recently, but we'll find out.

Miss K is loving it; every "sick day" or "snow day" we have movie time in the morning, and she gets to sit on the couch with her (dry) Cheerios and munch while we watch TV. It's a special treat, and keeps her from harrassing her brother too much when he's not feeling well.

I Got One!

2009-01-12T09:48:00.000-08:00

A couple of posts ago I lamented that my camera batteries had died, so I didn't get any pictures of the iced trees. I didn't even bother to check the camera, so imagine my surprise today when I turned it on and it said I had a picture in the archives.

Apparently my camera had just enough juice in it the other day to snag this shot before it protested and shut itself off...it's not great, but it's something! You can enlarge it by clicking on the picture; I like how the woods look behind our house, minus the unfortunate sun spot.

A Plug for Polly

2009-01-12T08:49:00.000-08:00

Z and I are very fond of Polly Jones' artwork. Polly was a member of a church we attended some years ago, and we purchased a piece of her artwork shortly after Z and I got married. My family has since moved to Maryland, and she and her husband (who is also an outstanding artist) have moved to TX -- but she has a site on Etsy.com where she puts her fabulous pieces up for sale.

Please note that I am not an art critic, neither do I have a good working knowledge of the art world's lingo. This is just something that I like and wanted to share it with the rest of you, in my own words.

Polly specializes in contemporary still life paintings. She uses a variety of media, techniques, and subjects -- but all of her pieces are unique and fantastic. I like her extravagant use of vibrant colors. I also personally really enjoy her works that employ water and how it refracts and alters the appearance of ordinary objects -- and she seems to like to use water in a lot of her projects. Some of her works are subtly 3-Dimensional, adding visual punch to already beautiful pieces.

Here is the first piece that Z and I bought from her, a while ago (the tan around the edges is from the wall, not the painting):

And this is the second piece that we will acquire in March (it's already paid for):

I have had her site posted on one of my sidebars for some time now. If you haven't already done so, I encourage you to check out her Etsy store here: PollyPainting

The Branch Ranch

2009-01-09T06:23:00.000-08:00

I'm contemplating a new profession....tree branch farmer. It would seem that I'm a natural, because my yard is absolutely covered in large and small branches this morning.

Of course, the ice storm that came through over the last couple of days probably had more to do with the proliferation of woody stems scattered across my lawn, than anything I did. My camera has dead batteries, else I would have gotten some beautiful shots of the crystalline trees and grass before Mr. Soleil melted it all away. My dog is thrilled, you could almost see the thoughts bouncing around in his brain as he tore around the dog pen. "All these things to chew on and throw about? They fell from the sky? Yayyyy!"

The ice wasn't too bad, the roads weren't too slick, but it was enough to build a coating of ice on everything -- and it was thick enough that our maples lost a lot of big and little branches. We were awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of things hitting the roof, and at 2 in the morning when you're not fully awake yet the noise seemed like something was trying to claw through the ceiling. Blessedly, Miss K slept through it all. She is very loud, as most 2-yr-olds are, when she freaks out. As it was, she saw white all over the ground when she got up and wanted to go play in the "snow", and was most disgruntled when we told her it was ice, and she couldn't go make snow angels in it. So she stuck out her bottom lip, jammed her hat on her head and milled around the house for a while in her mittens and her green frog wellies, hoping daddy and mommy would change their minds. We persuaded her to stay indoors with the Tinkerbell movie, and then all was right with the world. (We even got the hat and mittens off of her, but the boots stayed on).

As a result of the weather, A had no school for the last two days. Normally any change in his routine would send him into a negative behavior pattern, but since we had just come off of Christmas Break he wasn't fully into the school routine again. He was getting antsy, though, and was definitely ready to go back to pre-K on Thursday. Somehow, doing the same activities at home just don't quite hit the mark.

We still went to his therapy appointments on those days, so at least he had some continuity. A is still working on fine motor skills, and we're focusing on putting pressure on writing utensils. A has gotten fork usage down pretty well, and has the basic motions to write, he just can't put enough pressure down on the pencil or crayon to make it very visible. He does much better with markers -- they don't require as much pressure, but we are discontinuing the use of those until we are getting consistent pressure with the other writing instruments. Much to his frustration. He threw a small fit for his occupational therapist on Tuesday when they were working with pencils, because he wanted the markers and she told him, "No."

But, in a terrific little section of Wednesday, he did read the first half of Dr. Seuss's "Fox in Socks" to me! By himself! We had a little trouble with the word "Knox", but we got it figured out. This is a great activity to encourage his speech development, so we're running with it. He has come so far from the animal grunts we were getting just a couple of years ago.

I also got him to spell words using the letter magnets on the fridge, I'd give him a word and make him find the letters to spell it, like "jump" or "top". We must have done this for 30 minutes before he got tired of it, so yay! Good for him! It is thrilling to see his intelligence shining through, to a point that others notice. He really is a smart little guy.

I was hoping that with all the time off for the holidays we might venture a little closer to victory in the Toilet Bowl arena, but it just isn't there yet. He did go a few times, though, and voluntarily went by himself one time, so we're still making some progress at least. The average age for potty training autistic kids is between 5 and 6, so we're right on target I suppose....A turned 5 in November. We are nearly there with Miss K, though, we go back and forth. One day she'll be dry all day, and then the next she has accident after accident....she still doesn't understand why she has to go in the potty when her big brother doesn't. *sigh* Soon. If I say that enough times, one day it has to be true, right?

Well, Crap

2009-01-07T06:50:00.001-08:00

We had a whiz-bang start to the New Year! Our septic tank backed up into our house! While my husband was away, working his last all-night shift! Isn't that exciting?

It was exciting to call a friend to come into my stinky house to watch my kids and make sure they didn't eat or drink anything they weren't supposed to while I went outside. Holidays are all about family and friends, right?

It was exciting for me to go out in the back yard, in the dark, and try to dig up where the blasted tank was, to check the level per the directions of the septic guy -- only to discover after an hour of digging that the tank was located on the other side of the gate from where the directions on the deed seemed to indicate.

It was exciting to dig around for another hour in the backyard on the other side of the gate! The neighbor's Pomeranian was excited, too, judging from all the yapping coming from their yard. I'm pretty sure that if my neighbors had seen me out there muttering and throwing mud and rocks around they would have thought I was off my cracker and was burying a body or something. But isn't that a great New Year's resolution -- to get more exercise and make the neighbors think you're crazy? Cheap home security. So after I found what I needed, I called the septic guy back and relayed the pertinent information.

It was exciting for the septic guy and the RotoRooter guy, both of which got extra pay, to come out and fix the problem on a weekend so we didn't have nastiness coming up out of the tub drain or the sinks anymore, and so we could actually use the toilet. And that nasty sulfur smell that we've always had? Turns out it was the byproduct gas in the tank making its way into the house. We just thought it was the well water, which is what two long-time residents had told us.

Our septic tank was so full, that it was trying to ooze out the top hatch when the septic guy came. Let's all say it together: "Ewwwwwwww!" It was pumped out in August of last year, and is a 1,000 gallon tank, so we shouldn't have had any problems for at least another year, maybe two. But full it was, so we had to have that remedied. Then he noticed that when we flushed, there was only a very tiny trickle coming out of the house. Because the septic tank was so full, it covered the main line from the house....and stuff backed up and caused a clog. Enter the RotoRooter guy, stage right. He zipped the snake up in there, broke through some mineral deposits, and presto chango we're back in business so we can do our business.

Or, are we? The septic guy came back on Tuesday to check out the tank and see if the outlet into the yard was blocked somehow (he couldn't see it last week because the temperature differential was too great and his mirror kept fogging up). He looked for 15 minutes trying to find the outlet and the baffle, and couldn't see any pipes leading out, which is strange. He did see a ribbed hose lying in the bottom, though, like what he uses to schlepp all the, well, you know, out. And, our tank is halfway full again. That's 500 gallons of water and other materials, in a matter of 3 days. I must have goggled at him like he had onions for eyeballs, because he took the lid off and showed me. Sure enough, it's halfway back up again.

Diagnosis: we have a blockage leading to our drain field. Which ain't cheap to fix. So Z and I are tied for the time being, hoping that mystically and magically everything will start working again but knowing that we have to do something about it -- soon. We can call the RotoRooter guy out again once we have the funds to do so, but he has to have someplace to RotoRoot, and we don't know what to tell him. Or her, as the case may be. We were told to go ahead and dig the whole area behind the house up, because that will save us some money and time -- they won't have to try to locate it and do it themselves. Where are Snow White's dwarves when you need them? I could use seven strong men with shovels and pick-axes about now.

Then. Then -- after looking around in our half-full tank for a while, the septic guy noticed our new well pump site, which was put in several years before we bought the house. He scratched his head, turned and looked at me, and said, "Um, ma'am, where exactly is your drain field located?" I have no idea, my husband was here with the house inspector. The septic guy just kind of shook his head, and told me that normally you wouldn't put a well pump in within 100 feet of a drain field, just in case of leakage, and did we have our water tested? That we had, and everything tests normally. We have one of those ultraviolet light purifier things, which zaps everything. But I have to admit I've been looking a little askance at the tap water ever since. Hasn't made us sick or anything, so it's probably fine, but....well, crap!

Confessions of a Bench Warmer

2008-12-17T06:02:00.000-08:00

My husband and I used to have an 1893 Schubert upright cabinet grand piano, which we were given for free. It was gorgeous, nice wood carvings and overlays. It didn't keep in tune very well, but you could still play it without wincing overly much. At some point in its existence before it made its way to us, though, someone had dropped the sucker and busted the feet off the front. Inexplicably, no one had ever replaced them, so the keys and woodwork on the front were just sort of...hanging...off the piano.

Over time and subsequent moves before we got it, gravity caused the front to drop even further, and this started to push out the sides of the piano. Once in our possession, Z and I were interested in restoring it, so we contacted several people about doing just that. We were advised by a man who does business refinishing and restoring old pianos not to even invest in the thing, unless it had some sort of sentimental family value. It would cost far too much to bring it back to its former glory, and we could buy a new piano for less than it would take to fix everything wrong with this one. We appreciated his candor, and enjoyed the piano "as-was" for several years.

The thing was monstrously heavy; it was made of solid thick slabs of oak, and weighed somewhere between 650 and 1000 pounds, we never did find out for sure. It took six full grown men with skids and wheels to move the piano into the house; the day it suddenly gave a little more and my infant daughter was sitting right under the keyboard was the day that my husband and I, with my bum hip, moved it out to the porch by ourselves. We didn't want it to squash our kids. That was the death knell for the instrument -- one side had nearly completely separated by that point.

Being the industrious wench that I am, I set to it with screwdrivers -- on my back porch, in January, in Maryland -- and harvested some parts before it was dragged to the elephant graveyard. Bear in mind that this piano was built in the days before Phillips head screws, and over 100 years of aging had cemented those flathead screws in place. My drill did not work, the torque was breaking off the screws in the wood if I set it high enough to actually move the old screws. I had to do it all by hand so I could feel the breaking point. I actually broke a couple of screwdrivers!

We sold the ivory and ebony keys on E-Bay, and kept the wood from the top and front of the cabinet for a future project. I wanted to build a bench out of it, I just thought that would be really neat. Two years passed....

And, spurred by the prospect of 7 extra people in our house for over a week this year, decided we needed some extra seating. So it got built on Thanksgiving day, prior to our family's arrival two days later on Saturday. Here's the finished project:

It fits absolutely perfectly as a window seat -- no cutting required! We did have to do some adjustments for the sides, though, because of the existing windowsill and a non-working electric baseboard heater that runs along the wall. The top is hinged, so we can store toys, blankets, whatever in the narrow space between the wall and the front of the bench. The back half of the bench is over the windowsill, and screwed down using the existing screwholes in the top of the piano.

The kids absolutely LOVE it -- they actually fight over who gets to sit in the windowseat, although in truth they can both fit in there at the same time just fine. A loves to climb up with a blanket, and just lay there and look at the cars going by, or the cows across the street.

I'm not a big floral-y person normally, but this fabric actually works with the walls, curtains, and other furniture in the living room -- and the red hallway that connects to the living room. It suits the look of the old wood, too.

But here's where the "confession" comes into play: I am a horrid seamstress. It takes me hours to do the simplest tasks, sewing is just not one of my talents -- with a machine or by hand. Knowing that family was arriving the next day, by the time I bought the foam and fabric -- I had less than a day. And this would probably take me at least a week to complete properly, allowing time to swear (internally) and rip out seams as necessary. (Since the bench was built on Thanksgiving, I bought the cushion materials on Black Friday. Yikes. I actually crossed myself before leaving the house and heading to JoAnn Fabrics. Having worked retail this time of year, I usually try to avoid shopping the two days after Thanksgiving at all costs, I just do not enjoy being shoved, elbowed, etc.)

So here's what I came up with:

I wrapped the foam up like a present and safety-pinned the bottom all the way down, and the ends, and then put that side down against the wood. It worked out just fine, and there were no bad words involved at all! And no one ever suspected. : )

Festive Home

2008-12-16T16:13:00.000-08:00

This year, we're still learning our new house. And we have also learned about the apparent wind problems that knocked over my pot of poinsettias (fake) and ripped the wreath off the front door, depositing it rather rudely on the frozen flowerbed. So no outdoor shots, for now. I may post something later, but with my hectic schedule I'd hedge my bets on "no" rather than "yes".

We are going with simple this year. For a variety of reasons, one of which is that the season tends to get so hectic I like to come home to a little serenity.

We love going for a drive to look at Christmas decorations most years. Inflatable lawn decorations and enough lights on your roof to signal the astronauts are all very nice, and we do enjoy looking at them -- right across the street, actually -- but we're not personally going that route this year. If the kids make noise in subsequent years, I'll probably get out there, freeze my buns off, and mutter angrily at the frozen ground while I'm fighting the ever-present wind, trying desparately to stake something down -- but this is not that year.

The fireplace, with (edited) stockings -- names changed to protect the innocent and all that:

I love just piling some ornaments into a festive container, letting them fall as they may:

Tree, with dog. Don't you just love our "office" ceiling?

And without dog (or ambient lights):

My glass reindeer I acquired somewhere along the line. I never know where to put him. This year he's by the front door:

Doesn't every toilet need a reindeer to stand watch while you do your business?

More Christmas balls, on the counter. We have a tropical fish shower curtain (for the kids, who are into "Finding Nemo" and fish in general), and it's mostly blues and greens with some very vibrant-colored fish in the mix. Next year I think I'll look for some orange and blue ornaments to add, just because.

Santa's watching from the medicine cabinet to make sure you really wash your hands:

And finally, the kitchen, crowded countertop and all. I figured since the pasta container was empty anyway, it would be a perfect place for, yup, more ornaments. And the kids can't reach these:

And lastly, but not leastly, my kitchen windowsill was looking a bit bland, so I shoved some florist's tingting in a pot. It works. Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas!

Today We...

2008-12-16T14:18:00.000-08:00

Today we got some measurable snow, although it's still not much.

K was soooo excited! She had been watching the snow since about 9 this morning, and was walking around the house wearing her stocking hat and her mittens. She would sit in our big picture window and talk about it, saying how pretty it was, and that it was falling from the sky outside her window, yada yada. Finally, she looks at me, exasperated, and says, "Mommy, I want to touch it!"

Unfortunately, the snow didn't start to stick until after we took A up to the bus stop at 11. We went out to play a couple of hours later, after it had time to pile up for a little bit -- and boy, was she happy! It started to come down as freezing rain shortly after we ventured outdoors (even though it was 30 degrees), so we hightailed it back inside. Daddy taught Miss K how to make snowballs. It didn't take her long to get the hang of it!

December? Already?

2008-12-13T11:10:00.000-08:00

OHM'GOSH is it really December 13th? Already?

My youngest brother is getting married today. Across the country, in California. They are going to have the big ceremony in June, but decided to go ahead and get married now for a myriad of reasons (and no, she's not pregnant). His fiancee has no health insurance, and this way she can be covered. Apparently she had a sinus infection last month and her doctor's bills were nearly $400 by the time they ran all the tests and she got her medications.

So we will be listening by cell phone to the ceremony that's on the west coast, here on the East Coast. And we plan to be out there in June for the big to-do.

We have been absolutely slammed since Z's surgery, with guests in the house, holiday things with friends, church activities and projects, and life in general.

Of course, the activities and general pandemonium are nowhere close to being finished, our last guests that are staying with us arrive in a week and will leave just after the New Year (with another one arriving and leaving in the middle). Every single day we have had someone at the house, sometimes two different sets of people -- one in the morning and one in the evening. And they aren't always planned for ~ one of my other projects, painting the deer, bunnies, and stars in the church nursery has been delayed for a couple of weeks now because every time I start to head up there, someone else shows up at the house! But at least the bear, lamb, and duck pond are finished. Z's sister came up to help and she did the duck pond. It is absolutely fantastic, and all the babies want to try to pet the duckies on the wall.

Today is the first "breathing day" I've had since the beginning of November -- and it's only because my husband is out playing music with another guy this afternoon at a concert. I don't have a car, so I'm not going anywhere, and so far no one has knocked on our door. I probably shouldn't jinx myself, eh?

Don't get me wrong; I love having people over -- and somehow the house has managed to stay pretty straight even with all the unexpected guests, which really is a small miracle for me because I'm nowhere close to attaining my domestic goddess status -- but today's little break is also nice. We had some of Z's family come up and stay with us -- 7 extra people, for 8 days. There were 5 kids total, ages 5,4,3,2, and 1, so noise was a huge factor in the week. It was pure chaos, but we loved every minute of having mothers and sisters and cousins and dads all mixed in our little house. Luckily, we survived with only two chairs and a table that broke, and an air mattress with a slow leak. The picture window, aquariums, and glass front to the fireplace miraculously survived intact.

Let's see; what has happened since, well October, really? A is doing very well. He is in a "normal" pre-school class that has 21 kids in it. A still has difficulties in the areas of communication and fine motor skills. But academically, A is ahead of all the other kids! He can read, knows his letters, numbers, colors, shapes, what the weather is, etc. The biggest problem we have is that he doesn't always want to sit down and do what the other kids are doing. We just have to figure out if it's because of boredom, or because he's sitting down for too long at a time and needs to get up and move around. It is a delight to see the teacher realize our son isn't an idiot, he's actually a pretty smart guy -- he just has a hard time expressing himself.

A is also doing very well with all the upheaval in the house. He took some time off by himself when all of Z's family came up, for a couple of days, but by the end of the week was OK with it and actually trying to engage the other kids to play with him! Z had the brilliant idea of putting up the Christmas tree the day his family left, to take advantage of the already altered routine in the house. It worked! Last year when we put up the tree, A was in a funk for over a week because we moved a desk, thus changing his set routine and "normal" surroundings. This year, since everything was out of whack anyway, he seemed to just take it in stride.

Likewise with all of the friends stopping in unexpectedly -- A does still occasionally need some time off to himself, in the quiet, but he's getting used to it. Excessive noise still bothers him, but Z tried taking A to the mall with one of his cousins and Z's dad while they were up here. A did fine, he loved the huge train they had set up around the holiday decorations, and didn't seem to freak over all the people. Granted, it was the middle of the day on a weekday, so there weren't so many people about anyway, but this is still progress!

Having so many people his size (and K's size) in the house was also beneficial in the potty-training arena. K stayed dry most of yesterday, with only one accident, so we're getting there! Yay! And A has actually gone in the bathroom, taken off his dirty pants, and put on clean ones. By himself.

I'll have to post some pictures of the house soon. When I have a moment....

The Gander

2008-11-18T06:53:00.001-08:00

I recently found out I have some Jewish family, way (way) back in the branches of my family tree on both my maternal grandparents' sides; perhaps that explains the family tendency to use everything as a "teaching/moral lesson", not unlike my friend's 100% Jewish grandmother does. It's genetic! That, and it might explain my grandfather's nose, and my thriftiness...although my husband prefers the term "cheapskate", and has insisted since we've known each other that I must be part-Jewish because I'm just too practical as far as gift-giving goes (socks, anyone?) and tend to pinch pennies. Incidentally, before anyone cries "foul!" or "anti-Semite", it is said in jest and not intended as an insult in any way ~ my husband is proud that I can feed my family of 4 for under $200 a month, including training pants for the as-yet-unpotty-trained offspring. He is actually rather amused at this recent turn of events, saying, "I told you so!" It is kind of interesting, from a genealogical standpoint, but it's not going to change my liking for bacon and grilled pork chops.

You know that old saying, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander?" OK, like I said, my relatives enjoy using didactic phrases, but this is one that I grew up with. The phrase usually delivers some sort of pointed message (of course), but in this instance the saying works equally well:

My husband recently decided to join in on the surgical fun (hence the three week lapse in posting).

A back history: He is very young (late 20's) but due to the rigors of being in the service has been living with 5 slipped disks and 3 ruptured ones in his back for a while now, and has some rather unusual issues that his doctors have never seen in someone so young. He has the back of a 70-yr-old man. They're not doing surgery right now because that will actually cause more problems for him rather than solve anything. Due to his degeneration, he has already been told that once he starts having back surgery, he will have to have more procedures done every 5 to 7 years thereafter for the rest of his life to keep ahead of the problem. Not exactly music to anyone's ears, to hear that bit of news.

The current procedure for his problem involves removing the ruptured disks and fusing the spine, but there is a wonderful new possibility that is undergoing some testing and showing fabulous results. Basically, they put in prosthetic disks in place of the ones that have blown, and the patients are supposed to be in even better condition than they were before they had back problems -- and they don't have the problems that would warrant continued future surgical interventions. His doctors are holding out hope that Z can get this new surgery instead of the current standard, but it has to get through the testing phase before insurance will cover it.

So, in the meantime, Z is trying to do things as "normally" as possible, even if it causes him some pain. His thing is, he's going to pick up his 2-yr-old daughter, and tickle our son, and take out the garbage -- pain or no pain. He does have some rather powerful narcotics so he can at least sleep at night. BUT, because his back is messed up, he's been using other muscles and overcompensating for his lack of strength in his back. What he initially thought was a pulled muscle from lifting our 50-lb dog into the bathtub (I know, right?) turned out to be an inguinal hernia.

Researching online, the illustrations look like it hurts, but they're a bit discreet and very mild. Z's looked nothing like the online pictures -- it was much larger and had painfully made its way into places it really shouldn't (inguinal hernias are in the groin area ~ I leave you to your imagination). The doctors could instantly tell what the problem was when we walked in, before they ran some tests.

We bounced in and out of the hospital starting Sunday, November 2 with Z. His hernia grew larger and faster than most the surgeon had ever seen between Sunday and Tuesday, and it was becoming life-threatening. Most hernias aren't in this category, but with this particular kind it can pinch off the intestine and cause a nasty infection and death within a day in some cases ~ and Z's was on the brink of doing just that. So Z was rushed into surgery on Thursday in the local hospital, after dickering with the regulations and red tape on the military side to try and get it done Mon., Tues., and Weds. We were having issues because Z was taken to the local emergency room and evaluated by three different civilian doctors, but he hadn't been evaluated by a military doctor yet. And the military clinic was booked solid for two weeks, could he come in then? Thank God someone in our insurance office had a brain and referred him on the spot Weds. afternoon, once it reached her desk.

Because of the extent of the problem, the surgeon could not perform the laproscopic surgery that is commonplace nowadays, but had to do the old-fashioned open-em-up with one big incision kind of deal ~ 5 inches. So I joke with Z ~ he now has half of a "C-section", but without the benefit of losing 10+ pounds at once. : ) He also has a mesh screen in place, but I don't know what it's made out of. If it's metal, then we are going to have some fun going to the airport!

Here's the thing most people don't realize. The normal way things go where we are, with the military, is a microcosm of socialized medicine: make an appointment to be evaluated (10 minutes) at one of their sites. If they decide you need something, you make another appointment in their system for any tests, x-rays, etc ~ usually within 2 weeks of the initial consult -- but sometimes longer. THEN, after the results of whatever come back, they put in a request and you have to wait a month for a slot at the official hospital -- in our case, near our nation's capital (two hours away). If there are no slots available one month out from the request, THEN you can see a civilian doctor.

We've dealt with this before, Z had a tumor removed from his arm one MAY that was discovered in the previous FEBRUARY ~ and it was starting to turn bad by the time they got around to removing it. Sadly, while there are a few good military doctors out there, there seems to be a much larger group who just don't care. They don't have to! Most are just there, eking out their existence until their time in service is up and they can get out to make big bucks. They can't get fired, after all, and their pay is a set amount ~ it doesn't matter how many people they see or how good a job they do. And of course, we've all heard the horror stories about our Walter Reed system and injured soldiers here in the last year or so. Lovely, isn't it? If that's the "best health care in the world", then we're all in trouble.

But, at least the insurance covers most things, so that is a blessing. I know that some people have no coverage whatsoever. I think that's what disturbs me the most about some of the politician's suggestions for a national health care system. A lot of people are really gung-ho about this universal health care idea, but I don't think they understand all of the implications, and that the costs will be more than monetary. There's a reason people from England and Canada (who have national health systems in place) flock to our country for health care!

OK....and that's my soapbox for this month. I seem to have a monthly quota of at least one. : )

Two Steps Forward...

2008-10-29T08:35:00.000-07:00

Two steps forward, one step back; that's the potty training shuffle! Yeah! I feel pretty strongly that "jazz hands" would finish off the dance nicely.

Further news from the Toilet Bowl playoffs:

Winning game for the home team (Mom): both kids did "number two" in the potty on the same day, and the youngest added some beautiful "number one" plays, staying dry most of the day.

Winning games for the other team (A and K): neither did anything in the potty for three consecutive days after the fabulousness listed above.

It's been a while, but I have to say, again, that the recording of the potty training process is probably not typical blogging material, but it is a challenge we are facing with A's autism. So I duly record some of the triumphs and setbacks we encounter along the journey, if for nothing else than to give someone else the reassurance that another family has been through/is going through the same thing, and to give a small glimpse into our personal struggles, and hopes, and fears for those who have no experience with special needs whatsoever. Including other members of our immediate family, this is a first for both my and Z's sides.

I have tried to maintain a sense of humor about it, but admit that as time passes...and passes...frustration creeps in much more easily now than it used to at the onset of the process. A will be 5 in a couple of weeks, and it is gross to have to clean the rear end of someone who passes excrement with the full-bodied, ah, aroma of a bigger kid/adult. We are praying that he "gets it" one day (preferably sooner than later!), but we also know that some kids never do, and there are adults that have their toiletry needs taken care of by another individual. And we are willing to deal with that, too, if it comes to that.

But for now, we are still going to keep trying to instill proper toilet etiquette, we still hope for a fully potty-trained A. I'm sure there is a point beyond which continuing the toilet training would be folly, when it is apparent that it's just not going to happen (again, realizing there are adults that still need help), but we are not to that point and pray we don't reach it.

Aside from the daily "to pee, or not to pee?" battle, it would appear that old man winter has engaged in its own playoffs with its preceding season, and kicked fall's colorful butt for a couple of days. We've had rain/snow and freezing rain mix, combined with 30 mph winds (with gusts up to 44 mph) yesterday and lows in the 20's. Let's say it all together, folks: Brrrr! Fall is supposed to rally, though: we are supposed to get back up into the upper 50's, and dare I say even 60 degrees one day next week, all starting on Friday. (So today and tomorrow will still be a bit unseasonable). We live on a hilltop that receives a direct wind out of the mountains from the north and west, so we are a bit more unseasonable than people further east on the plateau. This being our first fall in this house, we are learning about our new micro climate that we live in, which is always different than the weatherman prophesies (given, he's pretty accurate as weathermen go for the in town folks, considering the terribly fickle nature of the weather in the first place).

I enjoy gradual cooling down, my body just can't handle the up and down of normal fall/spring weather, let alone when it goes more berserk than usual for a couple of days. I get sick for about a week every fall and spring, whether I do nothing or mainline copious amounts of sinus medications and extra vitamin C, and it would appear that my children are following in mommy's footsteps. They've both been sniffly and miserable for the last week and a half. First A, then Miss K. Poor dears!

The Toilet Bowl

2008-10-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

Throughout life, there is instilled in (most of) us a challenge to be the best that one can. Abject perfectionists need not apply, I'm referring to each person's innate pride on a job well done, on whatever terms they think that is. (Not to be confused with haughty, puffed-up pride, which benefits no one). It feels good to do something right. Admittedly, for some the personal bar of "excellence" is set rather low in comparison to mainstream society ~ but, then again, that is not necessarily a bad thing depending on exactly what the situation is.

*soapbox* If "excellence" for one means never applying one's self and apathy to consistently cranking out a crappy job, then that's not an area to low-ball in. Part of (only part of) the driving factor in this economic problem in the U.S. is a percentage of the workforce is demanding larger paychecks, but they don't actually do the work that would warrant the salary. This idea that "the big guys" can afford it pervades nearly every large company on some level (sometimes quite close to the top), and when people take pens, merchandise, printer paper, etc., and don't do their work they're getting paid to do ~ yeah it seems like small potatoes but it adds up. And if the work isn't getting done correctly, whatever services or products the company provides likewise are going to decline in quality or sometimes literally in amount. This inevitably leads to lay-offs so the company can try to stay afloat. During which the same people who are robbing the company, both of quality work and literally in materials, are the first people who will complain about it. *end soapbox* Now, on the flip side, if "excellence" means the dismissal of religious ideas in favor of whatever the current scientific paradigm is, then count me in with the "slacker", low-baller crowd.

This quest for excellence can be on a personal level, whether it involves churchwork, classwork, artwork, jobwork, or housework. It can come in the form of sporting events, in which teams or individuals vie to get a place in the ultimate reward for a great season: the championship event. The best of the best are supposed to compete head to head to determine, once and for all (for that year, anyway) who is truly the champion.

I have decided that the epic ongoing battle of the potty-trainees vs. the potty-trained falls in this category somewhere ~ it is, after all, an internationally recognized, time-honored event ~ and therefore must have a name fitting of its place alongside other famous, often grueling events such as "The World Cup", or "The Presidential Election". Therefore I present you with the latest installment of what is coming to simply be known as: The Toilet Bowl.

In today's skirmish:

The potty-trained, "home" team: Mom!

And, the opposing potty-trainee team: A and K! Represented in today's play-offs by A.

This morning's colossal matchup was destined to test the patience of both teams. The home team had studied up on the various plays commonly made by the potty-trainees, and Mom's eagle eye had caught the unique posturing and grunting generally associated with what is commonly known as "number two". The first play was ugly: A absolutely refused to even sit on the toilet until he was physically picked up and put there by the home team. Out of defiance, he stood up and peed all over the floor. There was some controversy over the call; the refs threw yellow flags, but the home team was most definitely seeing red.

Thus began a long and sordid battle, but, hey, aren't they all in this exhausting series? Following the urination foul, A lowered his eyebrows and glared up at the home team in a move favored by the potty-trainees. In a rare show of pique, the home team arched one eyebrow, pinched her lips together, and put the recalcitrant rear end back on the toilet ~ in all honesty, perhaps with a little more force than was really necessary, although A did fight the play by Mom. Much moaning, crying, and strange howls interspersed with still more grunts and posturing soon emanated from the opposing team ~ but the home team recognized the tactic and refused to give into A's desire to get down off of the toilet with the obviously impending discharge. Today's game saw several more rear-end replacement maneuvers by the home team.

In the end, it was a draw: nothing went into the toilet, but A sat on it for twenty minutes until he had to go catch the bus for school ~ and Mom is sporting a couple of minor injuries. Potty training is indeed a full-contact sport.... Stay tuned; we might be in for a "double-header" if sister K decides to tag-team today.

Two out of Three

2008-10-16T11:07:00.000-07:00

So ~ A can read, at least at a beginner's level. Which, since he's not even 5 yet, I'd say he's doing pretty good.

And now, he can (sort of) write.

His OT has been working with him aggressively on this achievement, and on Tuesday he voluntarily wrote his "A" followed by an identifiable next letter, and something very close to the third one ~ but then he either lost interest, or his hand was tired so he totally flaked on the rest of his name. He can tell you how to spell it verbally, though, first and last.

So ~ woo hoo! We're getting there! Reading and writing...arithmetic is going to have to wait a bit, though. Two out of three ain't bad.

Yesterday I took advantage of the nice weather and worked outside for about 6 hours, planting and transplanting new things, and ripping the grass out of part of the front yard to extend my flower garden for next year. I didn't finish removing the sod just yet, my innards are still just a wee bit tender after having surgery a month ago ~ but the fact that I was out there is testament to the fact that I'm feeling much, much better.

K helped me while A was at school ~ she had to help me dig the holes for the mums, iris, peonies, black-eyed susans, and hostas, and put dirt back into the holes over whatever needed covering, and watering the plants in their new homes. At least, she helped me until one of those big, fuzzy, brown and black caterpillars caught her attention. She then proceeded to play with it for an hour ~ much to the caterpillar's chagrin, I'm sure. It stayed rolled up in a ball for most of the "playtime", but to her credit she was (mostly) gentle with it. All of a sudden, I realized that she was up and heading towards me, and I asked her where the caterpillar was, and she told me it was "in caterpillar's house". It took me a minute to get what she was saying. You see, we have a gravel/rock driveway, and apparently K thought Mr. (Ms?) Caterpillar needed a nice cozy home, so she built it one. I tried, but couldn't figure out exactly where it was so I could free the sucker. I'm hoping it was able to get out...

When A returned from school, Miss K went down for a much, much needed nap and A stayed outside with me. He had absolutely no interest in what I was doing, and much preferred to sit in the sandbox in the dog pen, and then go inside and watch a movie instead. Nature boy, he isn't, I guess, unless it pertains to fishing. And then, it's only with Daddy, so I suspect it's more "Daddy oriented" than an actual love of fishing.

Hello, Fall!

2008-10-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

Here's one of the trees in our backyard. Yes, that's our garage/barn in the background ~ metal roof and all. We's country now, didn't you know?

After enjoying the last few days of our Indian Summer and upper 70's and low 80's, our weather is supposed to drop off starting this evening following some rain. We're supposed to be right at the freezing mark overnight, with highs in the upper 50's and possibly 61 one day in the next week. I figured I'd better get a couple of shots before the rain made all the leaves fall!

It's too bad you can't see these trees in person. My wimpy camera (it's one of the first digital cameras made) just can't capture the vibrancy of the colors out there, in every red, orange, yellow, and brown hue and shade possible ~ plus it's overcast today, in preparation for the coming showers. I must admit a personal fondness of the oranges and reds, as evidenced by the shots I took!

As I type this, I am looking out the back window at the lazy downward drifting of hundreds of leaves along the treeline. It looks like a moving rainbow, like some sort of surreal ballet set to strains of music that one can almost, but not quite, hear. Every time a gentle breeze comes up, still more leaves succumb to gravity, and it is literally a shower of leaves ~ almost as a portent of the imminent rain.

Every morning in the fall, fog covers part or all of the mountains that lie across the street (and about 3 miles away). I thought it looked especially interesting this morning against the now leafless branches of my neighbor's tree stretching to meet the gray sky. It looks like fall! Views like this promise future days of crisp nights, apple cider, sweaters (finally!), and snuggling in front of the fireplace.

Time Warp

2008-10-09T10:41:00.000-07:00

I am having difficulty keeping current at the moment. I lost a couple of weeks in September, so to my brain it feels like it should only be the end of September, not nearly a third of the way through October. Time certainly flies, whether you're having fun or not!

I get a jolt every time I walk outside and see the leaves starting to change on the maples in my yard. I get a jolt when I walk through my back yard that hasn't been mowed in over a month now and the grass is up to my knees in some places. I got a jolt on Tuesday when it was 37 degrees in the morning (with a windchill of 34) before the sun came up. It's taking me some time to re-adjust, in little ways. Definitely not something I ever considered, this feels completely random.

A is doing well in school (a whole month of "green lights" for September!), and has proven to us that he can actually read. He read the first part of "The Cat In The Hat" to me, and part of "One Fish Two Fish, Red Fish Blue Fish". He also read the back of a library book to me that we'd checked out earlier in the day. Some things may be recognition, but he was also doing phonics work with his OT and spelled out "hat", "pat", "mat", and the like. (His fabulous OT has a game where you have to use bi-lateral motion to take letters from one side using a magnet on a stick and line them up to form words ~ and she pulled it out after I told her we thought he could read. Yup, he sure can!). Super exciting stuff!

A is also trying to say more things, and ask for more things. The only difficulties we have sometimes with his increased verbiage is that he'll get stuck on a phrase if our answer is "No." It's part typical kid -- repeated begging for something, hoping mom or dad will give in -- and part echololic tendency that his brain still locks into sometimes. After he gets stuck like that, then for a while ANYTHING we say he just repeats the last word or words until he can snap out of it.

Miss K is overly dramatic, exuberant, and active. Good grief! For whatever reason, her new emotion to practice is "crying". She'll walk in, with her bottom lip stuck out, and then (very exaggeratedly) collapse on the bed, couch, chair, whatever and bury her face in her hands while sounding like she's crying. When you ask her what's wrong, she picks up her head and very solemnly replies, "I'm upset. I'm crying." And then she'll bury her face again and start making sobbing sounds again. When you ask her why, you never know what her answer will be. Yesterday, she said, "I need some food to eat right now." Like she just hadn't had a snack an hour beforehand, but whatever. When she decides she's done, she just turns it off, beams happily and skips off to play. Can I get an eye roll, please?

Num Yummy!

2008-10-01T10:35:00.000-07:00

With the proliferation of tomatoes we've been given, I have been looking for some new ways to use them, other than making spaghetti sauce, making stuffed tomatoes, or using them for bruschetta, salads or on homemade pizza. Here's a winner!

Sweet Tomato Pie ~ uses a store-bought pie crust, a whole head of garlic, fresh basil, and Havarti cheese. Num num!

I'm still pulling tomatoes off every 2 or 3 days, 5 or 6 at a time. And there's plenty left to ripen. We're supposed to get up into the 70's again during the days towards the end of the week and starting off the next week, so we'll have plenty of time to ripen up even more.

I also found my first tomato horn worm of the year this morning, my plants have been remarkably free of pests the whole season. I have only lost two tomatoes to something eating them, and I think one was due to the groundhog that resides under the deck. Mr. (fat! enormous!) Caterpillar has gone to that great plant in the sky, and if he has any relatives lurking they are about to receive the brunt of my latent mercenary skills too. I have been well trained in the "way of the shoe". : )