Tales From the Waiting Room (and other stories)

Will the Real Susan E. Please Take a Nap?

Before we get around to that, though, let me address some of the comments that some of my precious & few readers left for me:

Jen (Knitters, Knitters), Brett has been duly notified and educated about what a "porn-stasch" is. 

Yes, Pam (dear sister), I drooled all over Brett, literally--and now the world shall know why. We drove to his college campus at the end of the summer (1978), so he could start moving in (just a 2-hour drive, as my parents were still being old-fashioned and wouldn't allow me to go on a sleep-over with my boyfriend).  Unfortunately the night before I waitressed the evening shift, which lasts until 2 a.m., (typically when the male customers are such cut-ups for hitting on the female wait staff and leaving hilarious 2-cent tips), so I fell asleep on the drive down. I slumped over and landed on Brett's shoulder. He decided not to disturb my peaceful slumber, being the nice guy he is. I woke up and mopped up his saliva-soaked arm, sleepily apologizing that I didn't know I had that much spit. That seemed to amuse him.  

 I know "engaged" isn't a verb, but I panicked in the moment and wanted to sound intelligent. Brett's strong suit is math so he didn't catch it. Thanks, Cousin Luke the Grammar Nazi, (posting as "Fred"), for pointing it out though. I know it would have been impossible for you to read it and not comment, so I shall comfort you by patting your hand and saying "Their, they're, there."

..........

A couple of years ago, I obtained a gmail address. Yes, it was time to stop paying $28 per month to our internet service provider that we hadn't used for over a year (we moved) just to have their domain name on my email address. It was more of a procastination issue, really, with the added bonus of not ever having to explain again that it was "earthlink" and not "earthling."  I probably would have kept it if it really *was* earthling.  It would imply an intriguing intergalactic choice. 

However, my name was already taken. I'd be willing to make book that my maiden name would have still been available.  While it's common knowledge that I married for love, despite what those who whipped out their abacus's thought when our first-born arrived 10.5 months after the wedding, I also figured that at least my last name would never again be misspelled. 

That was a horrible error in judgement on my part. 

Nonetheless, as I signed up for gmail, I couldn't just have my name since it was already taken. Google gave me several suggestions. I wanted it to remain as simple as possible so added the number 1. Taken. Kept going up the number scale. Taken, taken, taken. Finally determined that the number 14 after my name was available. Whee! Hey, that's also how many rogues progeny we have. Serendipity, thy number is 14.

As we age, we tend to have less room in our brains for the minutae of life, such as algebra and remembering your mother's maiden name so you can access your bank account. Sure enough, I'd forget from time to time that my new email address had a number after my name, so would occasionally sign up for web accounts with just my gmail address with no number. Turns out the lady  with that email address actually existed, and for some reason didn't want to pay for my gourmet coffee. WhatEVER! So the company called me and I explained the error, then emailed Susan the First to apologize, and all was put right. She was quite nice and understanding.

Turns out other people have the same problem remembering that my email address has a number on it, and I'll get the occasional forwarding from Susan the First, saying "I think this was meant for you." And she was always right. Thankfully they were mostly emails from machine embroidery and gourmet coffee sites, and thankfully not from all those former lovers I've taken. 

A few months ago, she forwarded an email she figured was for me. It was from a dentist's office several states away, reminding Susan Easley of her upcoming appointment and complimenting me on my wise choice in in dentists. 

I thanked Susan the First for thinking of me and not wanting me to miss out on my dental appointment, and explained that the message was not for me either, but no doubt for one of the Susans 1-13.  I suggested that I call the dentist's office, schedule the appointment, then split the insurance payment while giving my address as to where the check would be sent. She said she liked how I thought. I suspect this is not the end of our erstwhile relationship and it's only a matter of time until I get another forward from her, updating me on something I should already have known. 

**********

We had guests recently, missionaries who serve in Bolivia. I mention this only because it was during their visit that I discovered Ceiling Cat. Several weeks ago, for Easter, I'd printed out several sheets of DIY Ceiling Cat and gave them to the children. Over the following weeks, I'd found the sheets in various places, usually crumpled up or colored on, and threw them out one by one. Imagine my shock when I was in our dining room, chatting with the mom of the family when something on the ceiling caught my eye. 

 

After my initial gasp and subsequent chest pains, I remembered I'd printed out Ceiling Cat. Thank you Judson, who continues to find amusing ways to shock his aging mother. After regaining the gift of speech, I asked Judson how he was able to keep it a secret for so long. He said that it didn't matter how long it took, it was worth it to see my initial reaction. 

I made this the other day. It's on the floor baseboard directly under Ceiling Cat. We'll see how long it takes Judson to notice.

Therapeutic horseback riding lessons have started up again. We've enjoyed ourselves and the children who participate have learned quite a lot. Each lesson for each child is tailored to their special need, and the volunteers and workers are quite amazing. Gideon, diagnosed with autism two months before he turned 3 years old (because he hadn't spoken a single word, not even "mama"), has now spoken consistently to his side-walker for the first time. Justen is so good with him and I've never seen anyone who can make Gideon laugh like he does. Justen imitates what Gideon does and makes him feel as if no one has ever understood him before.  Perhaps that's true. Here, Justen imitates Gideon's "noodle body" and tells him to straighten up and ride proud.  

And here he is, trotting properly on Dakota, minutes later. 

Good work, Gideon! Justen is ever-encouraging. A good match, to be sure. 

Isaiah helps break in Chance. They worked well together, and Isaiah's vision issues seemed not to matter to such a wonderful horse and instructor. Thank you, Elizabeth & Mary Jill!

He does quite well with his sidewalker and his horse, Boomer. 

By this week's lesson, he was allowed to trot off-lead. Great job!

Mercy Grace foot-reins her horse, Hope, and all is well. How could it not be, with the names Mercy Grace & Hope? She's graduated to riding on her own, and does well with all the commands to Hope. 

Susannah practices turning, and was able to ride off-lead during several trotting sessions--a huge improvement over last fall. Here, she's practicing turning on T.C. (Too Cool).

 

Abigail is off-lead more than anyone else. Hard to get a good picture of her, she likes speed. 

The rest of our summer has gone rather swimmingly so far, too.

  Have a great pre-weekend, everyone! Good wishes to all. 

 

It All Began with a Rodent

 

Today is our 32nd Anniversary.

As relationships go, ours was non-eventful at the beginning. Mainly because, at the age of 14, I found the male of the species repulsive. Brett, being several years older than I, remembers to this day what I was wearing. I only remember giggling about his afro after he'd gone back to working on his car in one my best friend's driveway. It may surprise many of you to know this, but Brett enjoys working on cars. In those days, it was out of sheer necessity. The reason our paths crossed at all is because (follow the maze), my friend had a much older brother who was married. His wife had a younger brother, who was Brett's best friend. My friend's dad never minded when any of his children's friends or acquaintances showed up and on many occasions helped them with their junkers vehicles. 

I also raised hamsters at that time, and sold them to neighborhood children, unless they got loose and lived in our walls (the hamsters, not the neighbor children). This happened more than one might think. I often wonder if, when people think they live in haunted houses they really just live with wall hamsters. Because they're nocturnal. 

Fast forward a couple of years. My friend's older brother's wife's younger brother was having a party. We stopped by to pay our birthday respects. I had not given Brett another thought in those intervening years, as I had a boyfriend (I did grow out of my male repulsion syndrome). I'd heard through the grapevine that he was engaged but that was about it. 

At the party was a girl we'll call Ginger, because that's her name. This was the girl Brett was engaged to. Ginger was an extremely friendly young lady, and the guys were delighted to have her sit on their laps and show her affection. I had wondered if perhaps they had broken off their nuptial plans, but was informed this was not the case, simply that Brett was away at college. I took his friend off to the side (away from the music, which wasn't really possible, but at least when you went on the front porch and closed the door it wasn't deafening). I asked him how he was going to tell Brett about his generous fiancee. 

Turns out he wasn't. I thought that a bit cruel, as they planned to marry in about six months and I may have been old-fashioned even at 16, but thought that it might be a piece of information he would find handy before ordering the cake and putting down payment on the tux rental.

As for my hamsters, I still had quite a business. I would usually keep any baby that had unusual markings or color, so I could improve on the brand. I kept one female who was quite pretty, but as she matured I found she had a nasty temperament. The one hamster that I could never train or tame. I named her Ginger. It was perhaps my way of finding a bit of equity for a guy I'd only met once but felt sorry for. 

Providentially, a few months later I was invited to a pool party at my friend's older brother's wife's younger brother's gang. School had just gotten out for the summer and I only had one year of high school left. I looked forward to swimming again, one of my favorite things. In a Land of 10,000 Lakes I'd seen my share of water. My parents took us fishing and swimming since before I can remember (I think). 

Brett was at the pool party, home from college. After about an hour, he worked up the courage to ask me if I was doing anything Friday night. I said I supposed that I was doing SOMETHING, since I didn't often do nothing, even if it was staying home and watching Hee Haw with my dad. Daunted, he swam away. Before he left he took a more direct approach and asked me out on a date. I said that I'd heard he was engaged. He said "Oh, we're just sort of engaged." I said "Engaged is a verb. You either are or you aren't. I don't go out with people who are otherwise committed, even if -sort of-." 

He said "Can I call you tomorrow?" I said he could. Directly from the pool party he went to his fiancee's house and broke it off officially. Then he called to ask me out. I said I had a boyfriend (which was true). He said he didn't mind. 

I asked him to call me the next day. That afternoon, I broke up with my boyfriend. I don't remember if it was semi-mutual or not. I do know that I hurt his feelings because he knew why I was breaking up with him. If I never said I was sorry, Michael, I'll say it now. To this day he's a great guy even though he's a liberal and probably a registered democrat. Based on the fact that I'm slightly to the right of Ronald Reagan, politically-speaking, it wouldn't have ended well anyway. 

So Brett and I went out. He had unfortunately sold his car for a motorcycle the day before, because the gas prices were getting higher (remember when we stood in fuel lines for hours because there was a democrat in the White House?) 

I couldn't believe that my dorky parents wouldn't let me go out with this guy JUST BECAUSE he drove a motorcycle! I was almost 17, for heaven's sake! My mother informed me that I also wasn't allowed to go out with him because he was a "college boy" and I was still in high school. Oh, I had her on that one, he'd dropped out of college. Take that, mom! Oddly, she wasn't persuaded with that argument either. I then mentioned he was a pastor's son and a look of alarm crossed her face the likes of which I'd never seen before. I thought that would be a selling point. 

It took forEVER to talk my parents into dating him (3 days). They met him, my dad didn't smile, plus he  towered over him (my family is Dutch and few of them are under 7 feet tall), and they agreed to let me date him. But not on a motorcycle. So we went out in my parents' Omega.

For my 17th birthday the next week, Brett bought me a car so we could date and not have to take my parents' car, which was often in use. My parents thought this was too extravagant of a gift and wouldn't allow me to accept it. So he gave me a diamond necklace instead. 

At that point my parents just kind of gave up and prayed for the best. We dated throughout my senior year, which is good otherwise I'd still be in high school trying to pass Algebra. Brett would spend hours every night explaining what he thought were simple concepts, over and over. The same concepts. I'd finally "get it" and like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, I would surprise myself and easily complete the rest of my homework. Then I'd wake up the next morning and sleep had erased the Algebra portion of my brain. It must have been true love because he would patiently teach me all over again that evening.

Shortly after my graduation, we informed my parents that we'd like to get married. That October. They reminded us of how tolerant they had been and asked us to please wait until next year.  

So we checked the church's calendar, turns out they were open for a January 26 wedding (we figured we'd give people time to recover from holiday travel).

 

My parents said "We meant a YEAR, not just the calendar year." But I had them on a technicality. 

It's gone well so far. We've changed a lot, added a few children and even more livestock. 

 

Of course, it was very cold that day: 

Even for Minnesota.

 

Have a great weekend, everyone! 

Along for the Ride

For those reading on Facebook notes, it's easier to read on my "real" blog: http://talesfromthewaitingroom.typepad.com/

Not sure why Facebook wants each post all to itself, but one learns to accept things in life. 

While on a family shopping trip the other day we came across this. I thought "Finally, my turn!" 

Brett was uncooperative.

Bathroom break before leaving the store. Abigail and Mercy were offended. 

 Some new babies here on the farm:

Little Girl Donklet, March 12, here she is about 2 hours old. As yet un-named. Do not judge me. 

New Kids on the Block:

We bottle-feed them so we can milk the mommies and make cheese. We also sell the milk, but we end up using a lot of it ourselves. 

With a discussion about "When the weather warms up enough, these babies will be old enough to go back up to the barn."  Gideon asked what we would keep in our garage then?  

I'm stumped. 

Everyone's going through a trial of one sort of another, suffice it to say we are as well. I'd like to say, perhaps more than our share, but that's not really true. It just seems like it at times. 

So I will show you some things around the home that make me smile. Not in any particular date order:

Our dear friends Cathy and Minda Cox came to visit us to hear a motivational speaker with cerebral palsy. It was an encouraging evening and David Ring has a unique story that is fascinating to hear. Minda was adopted as a young child, from India. 

Our son Noah was able to attend as well. Noah has arthrogryposis and came from Russia at the age of 6.

After hearing David Ring speak, Noah said he liked hearing that the only thing holding you back from your goals is yourself. 

The last snow day where the schools were closed. That does not seem to affect the children's ability to find the joy in each flake. This is their form of snow-skiing. More like water-skiing, except without the water. Well I suppose it is a form of water. Frozen water skiing. 

A mug I found and though it amused me, knew it had to go to my dad for his birthday. Josh made the cookies.  I was lucky enough to rescue two of them to wrap up before they disappeared. 

Also; a mug my dear sister gave me, knowing that I love anything that is grammatically incorrect, yet set in stone--as opposed to my children's schoolwork, which must be erased and corrected forthwith.

Coffee The?  The simplicity contrasted with the audacity of this mug makes me smile at least once a day. The spoon handily slips into a hole in the handle. Really, why can't we grasp this concept here in the states? Though I take my coffee scalding hot and black as the ace of spades, I still like the concept of having a spoon at the ready.

I'm not sure why. Perhaps I like the idea of being able to change my mind if I wake up one day and want to try sweetener in my coffee. I've heard things like that can happen if you have a head injury. I'd like to be prepared, is all.

Walks with our homeschool group, on the rare (for now) nice day. There is something soothing about a walk with children and dogs around a lake that brings peace to one's soul. 

The new season start-up of NTRC's lessons. Susannah can't participate again until after her appointment with the orthopedic surgeon (scoliosis issues plus a couple other questions that need answers, but we hope to have her join in again, come August). Left to right: Gideon, Isaiah, Abigail, Mercy.

Josh's team (Believers) winning 3rd place in Regional Bible Quiz. Onward and Upward to Nationals, at the end of April! Josh is on the bottom right. It's extremely competitive.

The celebration dinner. It had been a very long day. I don't know if it's more exhausting to watch the quizzers or to be one. The opinions differ, based on if one was a quizzer or an observer. 

I've missed posting about two birthdays, so let's bring on the cakes. Susannah turned 12.

Why shouldn't our furred friends enjoy the festivities as well? Dundee loves a good slice of pepperoni.

Gideon had an un-birthday on February 28.

Yeah, un-birthday. Because he was born on February 29, so we make do on the off years. It doesn't seem to bother him.

And the seemingly-insignificant thing when it is compared to other things? That thing that happens--the thing that others find hard to understand so you just don't say anything because it seems petty in light of not only the world's suffering but the needs we have and see all around us every day. The thing that makes us feel silly because we feel we're taking it out of proportion. 

This last picture taken of my cat, Powder. Powder, who slept all day, preferably on or near something warm. Flu season was Powder's favorite, because he could then curl up on the current feverish person and soothe them with his presence. He was an Everyone's Cat.

Most every morning when we woke Isaiah, Powder would be sleeping next to him on his top bunk. Isaiah, at times, can feel left out. He's not one of the big boys, nor is he the baby of the family. His congenital cataracts have caused or exacerbated learning disabilities, including his ability to read. After surgery and corrective lenses and patching for years, Isaiah's eyes are fine now, but he still works hard at catching up to read. Did Powder know that Isaiah needed a special friend? 

Powder came to us in an unusual way. He was in a litter of one of our barn cats and the vet thought the pure white kitten might be albino, so said he should never be outside and we could sell him for a lot if we wanted to. Powder oranged up a bit on his tips (thus earning him the nickname "Rusty"), so turned out not to be a true albino but by then had worked himself into our home and lives and he would never, could never, be a barn cat. 

One morning in January, we let Powder outside as usual. The next day Powder was not in Isaiah's bed. Or the next. 

Powder never came back. We can only assume it was a coyote. We searched the highways, we placed ads. Powder was microchipped so if anyone had found him, he could have been traced right to us. We know he won't be back. 

Then my friend Jen of Knitters-Knitters daughter Agatha had to go and make a drawing of Powder and send it to me. It was immediately framed and placed in a prominent location. Thank you again, Agatha. 

 

Have a good weekend, all. 

Our Chickens Have come Home to Roost

And apparently that is all they're doing.

When one thinks of chickens, the word "industrious" doesn't automatically spring to the front lobe of the brain. But is it too much to ask that when we faithfully pour chicken feed into their feeding bin and make sure they have plenty of water, and most of them are females--that we get some eggs in return? Have I mentioned the heat lamps and light timers so that they think it's still summer? Since there are no chicken labor laws (yet) limiting their production, this has always worked in the past. 

So the other day I actually had to bu..purcha... Words cannot describe my pain as only a picture can.

 

Soon our newer chicks should be old enough to start laying, so we shall not be put in this position again. Only then will shame be erased and self-worth restored.

Nate, who is in charge of the chickens, got in an unspecified accident while doing chores the other day. After making a couple of inquiries, I suddenly remembered that trying to obtain accurate stories about injuries from boys who were horsing around makes me reach for the Advil. So instead, I decided to photo-document it as any self-respecting blogger would. Since this fortuitously happened on a Thursday morning, which is when Abigail's physical therapist comes to the house (she's also an RN), I figured we'd butterfly it and ask her opinion. 

Plus one's doggie to comfort one in time of distress doesn't hurt. Our nurse friend Jeanne pronounced the butterfly bandage well-done, and no stitches necessary. Then Nate and I discussed what was really important: What story to tell girls in the future when they asked about the scar. My suggestions ranged from shark attack to tiger brawl. Nate said "What if I just explain that I was horsing around with my brothers and got a piece of metal to the face?"

Apparently, my son never wants to date. 

But back to the weather. I got this update yesterday because I subscribed to text updates from the local station. That's right, I'm a happenin' 21st century mom. 

"Persons traveling early this morning should be prepared for icy road conditions. Black ice is nearly impossible to see. Avoid sudden turns and hard braking, and maintain a safe distance between other vehicles. In case of an accident, pull far off the roadway if possible and remain in your vehicle."

Some people never listen. 

We found this guy when we were on our way home, nearly to our driveway. By that time, the guy's buddy had been summoned and was waiting at the bottom of our drive to take him home. Mind you, when I drive the 15-passenger Eggplant, I need a certain amount of traction to make it up our icy driveway when coming in from the highway. But the buddy was parked at the end of our drive. When I slowed and motioned that I had to get in, he kept making waving motions and shouting "We're okay! He just has to get some medication for his children out of the truck."  I said "I live here, and need to get in my driveway." He finally said sorry and backed up, but by then I had a line of motorists behind me that were Not Happy at being stopped on a highway. It was a process, but I finally got backed up enough to get the traction needed to get up our award-winning driveway. 

As I later relegated the tale to our children, 15-year-old Josh said "Hah! Yeah right, had to get 'medication for his children' out before the authorities arrived." 

I hadn't thought about it like that. He's probably right, it might have indeed been -medication-, but probably not something he'd want anyone else to get dibs on. 

But enough about family problems and weather-related incidences. What really matters is that, apparently, the show Two and a Half Men has been canceled. As many times as I could say that I'd seen it coming due to the mildly-put substance abuse by the show's main character, I had hoped that those involved would continue to work around him. Apparently, this came to its inevitable end. A friend of mine--Olive's Pearls (who remains humble despite being a part of BlogHer)-- and I have been on death watch for Charlie Sheen for a few weeks now. Here was our exchange today:

Jen: "That horrific scream you just heard was Jon Cryer and Conchata acknowledging their unemployment. Hey, in an unprecedented turnabout, perhaps they should replace Sheen with Michael J. Fox. I'm pretty sure Fox could play drunk."

Me: "They could re-name it 'Spin City.'

Jen: "It's just so freakin' sad. Such a good show, and such talent all around. It hadn't even jumped the shark yet, and he has to blow it all to pieces. Carlitos, you have let me down!"

Me:  "It's not over until Conchata sings."

Jen: (about her 11 year old daughter): "It involved a long and carefully edited explanation of what Charlie Sheen's been up to, a description of the wacky truisms of Yogi Berra and a few very basic facts about opera, but it was worth it to Agatha share in the LOL." 

Me: "I am now burdened with the task of trying to make the phrase 'wacky truisms of Yogi Berra' work seamlessly into a conversation."

Jen: "We're too erudite and renaissance for own good."

-----

Since Jen's IQ is slightly (okay, a lot) more than mine, I had to stop there. Just know that I mourn the loss of this show. It got me through some difficult times in my life. As they say, "Laughter is the best medicine that won't get you taken to court after your pickup ends up in the ditch."

Safe travels, everyone. 

 

Tired Out

No more snow accumulation for us today, just bitter cold. I then uttered those famous words to Brett that always precede some sort of incident, making it impossible to complete what it is I wanted to complete that day. It appears I Shall Never Learn.

"The livestock and children are fed. Everyone's doing schoolwork and I'm going to finish grading and mailing in these tests so I can finally get on with the rest of my life. If you could staple and stuff that would be a big help." 

Brett: My car is ready at the dealership. Can we pick it up first? 

Me: Sure, let's get that out of the way, no time like the present, etc. Besides, then on the way home you can stop at the grocery store for a few items the children will die without, such as pizza and juice, and we can finish up the tests while they're eating lunch.

Brett: Thanks. I'd really like to get my car back. 

Me: Just glad they figured out what was wrong with it!

----

Although Brett is an ASE certified mechanic in all areas, his computer at the shop still didn't know what was wrong with his car, and he knew it Was Time to Take it In to the dealership. This is very difficult for him to admit. It had been acting up for a few months though, so the breakdown was inevitable (both for him and the car). 

Got to the dealership, paid the damages, and drove out. Four blocks later, I noticed the car was making a funny noise. Funny "strange", not funny "ha-ha". I slowed way down. Then it started to shimmy. Then shake. Then shimmy and shake. Then the right front tire rolled off and I ground to a halt. Good thing Brett was driving directly behind me. Later, he said it was surreal, seeing that tire just roll right off. I turned off the car, clicked on the 4-ways while saying a bad word, and got in the car he was driving. Here's the damaged vehicle.

Doesn't look too bad from that angle, eh?  How about this one?

Ouch.

Did not take long for The Law to stop by. Being about -20 windchill here, there's not a lot of crime going on right now so he was on the scene pretty quick. He first questioned Brett, outside the vehicle. "Step outside, please." Yessir.

Then they came back to the vehicle I was in. They were totally turned the other way as the cop was talking with Brett and I oh-so-cleverly held my innocuous iPhone up to snap a pic, making it look like I was merely texting someone. But he noticed. This guy's good and deserves a raise. 

Then he came over to the window and asked who had been driving the damaged vehicle. I said I had. He asked, "Did you stop at Subway a few minutes ago?" 

Um, no. But now that you mention it, it sounds delicious.

But all I said to him was "No." I must have looked suitably innocent as he seemed to believe me--and because I don't joke with The Law. Probably a throwback to my high school days. 

Another Officer of the Law stopped by to have a look-see. She briefly looked at the non-existent tire area, then looked at the tire on the side of the road while trying to warm up her frostbitten cheeks.

Did I mention it was cold here today?

The tow guy stops to have a look-see also. 

From the Rear Window: yet another discussion at the police car.

Searching the road for lug nuts.

Found two!

More discussion, and now a little action. The tow truck has arrived.

 

Brett goes up to listen to the discussion. It appears they have never seen a tire come off a car before. This makes Brett nervous. But instead, apparently there was a tinkling-match between tow companies. First guy on the scene wanted to help us, then another guy showed up. A brief argument ensued over who got to tow this car four blocks back to the dealership.

Finally, the errant tire, which Brett had picked up off the side of the road, is retrieved from the trunk.

At that point I thought, "Isn't it a good thing that someone at the dealership didn't hide a body in there? 'Cause then I think that would necessitate further questioning by the policeman, and no doubt I'd have to go downtown and Give a Statement. And from watching too much Law & Order SVU, if I knew if asked for a lawyer I would be assumed guilty, especially if Olivia was questioning me. If it was Ice-T he would merely stand there with arms folded and a smug look on his face and quote statistics about female murderers and how I'll be treated in prison. If Elliot questioned me, I might be slammed up against the wall if I didn't confess, depending on What Kind of Day he'd already had and if his wife was still filing for divorce.

Yet if I didn't ask for counsel, they'd coerce me into saying something stupid and incriminating and I'd spend the rest of my life in prison, with some burly woman making me her sex slave.

Thankfully, the trunk was empty except for a spare and a jack. Brett says I think too much sometimes.

Then, the Putting Back On of The Tire. Later, when Brett had to pay the guy, it occurred to him that he should have put it back on himself. Ah well. 

 Baby gets loaded up on the tow truck.

"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is when tow company guys work together in unity." (paraphrased from Psalm 133:1, with apologies to King David)

Bye baby! Be well. Note the skid mark on the road left by the part of a car when the tire rolls off.

 

Then the policeman appeared at my window and asked me to sign something. I then asked him why he wanted to know why I'd been at Subway. He smiled and said, "Because a few minutes before I saw your car broken down, I'd gotten a call from Subway (which is across the street from the dealership) that someone had tagged their building, causing damage, but then just drove away. When I was on my way to Subway I saw you." 

Sometimes, there really is such a thing as a coincidence. But I had kinda been wondering why he took such a good long look at the Pontiac. 

On the way home, it suddenly occurred to Brett that while he was trying to assess the vehicle at his shop at home, before having taken it to the dealership, he had removed that tire to find out what needed to be repaired. And had only hand-screwed the lug nuts back on, forgetting to go back and tighten them with a lug wrench. So it was not the dealership's fault at all.

So, more repairs to pay for. And I retain the rights to remind him of this in a playful manner from time to time, such as when he complains about not being able to do something because the children/livestock/me prevent him from doing something he wants--I'll say things like "It's a bummer when the wheels of life fall off the chariot when you least expect it."

Oh yes, there's more where that came from.  

Be warm.

 

"They got some Saki, and Sashimi...

and some clean sheets, Oh, kimono, oh, kimono!"

A prize for the first person who posts which t.v. show featured these lyrics on a semi-regular basis PLUS the name of the song. Prize is a $25 GC to Omaha Steaks. Don't worry, you don't have to live in Omaha--they have great mail-order (ask me how I know) and the vegans among us (are there any?) may take heart, there are also plenty of veggie side dishes to order. Although how you can bear to listen to a carrot scream is beyond my ken. 

I prefer to think of this as promoting blog traffic instead of how indelicately *someone* in my household suggested it sounded like I was whoring out my blog. Sweet, innocent blog, I would never do that to you.

The reason for the Japanese theme is that recently, we went to a New Year's Eve celebration with some friends. You'd know this if you read my blog. Yes, that was recent, because we don't get out much. Not because we don't want to, but because Getting Out takes a Lot of Effort. And there's always so much to do around here, not all of it chores (ignore what my children might say about this). 

At this party, there was a guy making homemade sushi. Who does that?  Well, apparently we do now. Brett ordered a Sushi-making kit, assembled from several purchases on Amazon. 

Since I prefer to educate people in what seems to be a playful manner yet if you spend any time thinking about it (and I'm not suggesting you should), it connotes snobbishness. I learned that you can't call something "sushi" just because of the ingredients or how it looks. If you prefer, learn more here. It's quite possible that when you think you're eating sushi, you're really eating chirashizushi or narezushi.

How embarrassing for you.

The final kit of Brett's sushi making items arrived this morning. Apparently, he then had No Choice but to take all of the children except Susannah to the store. The reason for that is, Susannah is finishing up one of those poster tri-fold projects for school. Parents are "encouraged" to help. So that is what my day was spent doing, and I almost certainly do *not* resent it in the least. 

Back to the sushi. Here's Isaiah cutting up a bell pepper. Yes that's a stuffed camel in the background. The explanation would only frustrate you so I shan't divulge.

Josh works on the carrots. I had to put on earmuffs.

Mercy helps with the peppers too. Just because you're missing a couple of limbs doesn't mean you shouldn't use sharp objects and risk losing more, I always say. 

Abigail agrees.

Susannah wanted to try the wasabi--on a spoon, plain. I tried to caution her but she was quite sure she could handle it.

Then Gideon was coerced by his brothers to try it also. They convinced him it was "really good." Gideon ended up in tears and could only be comforted by a kinder egg. These are illegal in the U.S. and since we are good, law-abiding citizens, we order them from Canada. 

These eggs are chocolate on the outside, with a cute toy on the inside. You never know what type of toy you will get. Today, Gideon got a bunch of puzzle pieces which needed to be assembled. His horse-loving sisters were quite envious.

But back to the sushi. 

Nate took care of chopping up the avocado...

Judson handles the cukes quite well.

Now for the series of the Finishing of the Sushi:

The final product. It didn't last long.

Oh and the school project? Here's what we have so far. Susannah was assigned the country of Saudi Arabia. Each student received a different country. What's fun is, we did go on vacation to the United Arab Emirates a little over a year ago and that is next door to Saudi Arabia. So, we have a lot of things that we can use for the project. While in the UAE, I simply could not pass up the Barbie in a burqa. Who could? Her sign reads "Welcome to Saudi Arabia!" in both English and Arabic.

A lot still needs to be done but we'll get there. With the upcoming weather report, I'm guessing there won't be any school for at least the first two days of this week anyway, giving us more time to work on the project. They take snow days seriously here. I rec'd this via text from the National Weather Center:

"Issued at: 3:22 PM CST 1/29/11, expires at: 2:00 AM CST 1/30/11

Winter storm watch in effect from late Sunday night through late Tuesday night, 
The NWS in Kansas city/pleasant hill has issued a winter storm watch for freezing drizzle, heavy snow and blowing snow, which is in effect from late Sunday night through late tuesday night. 
Location, eastern Kansas and western Missouri, including the cities of st. Joseph, Kansas city, butler, clinton, and warrensburg. 
Timing, light freezing drizzle or freezing rain will be possible early Monday morning through Monday night. Widespread snow will move into the area late Monday night and continue through Tuesday night. Snowfall will end by Wednesday morning. 
Snow and ice accumulations, a light glaze of ice up to a tenth of an inch will be possible on Monday and Monday night. Snow accumulations between 6 and 10 inches may be possible through Wednesday morning. 
Impacts, this long duration storm will arrive in multiple waves. Light freezing drizzle or freezing rain will lead to icy conditions on primary and secondary roads as early as the Monday morning commute. Once snow arrives Monday night, roads will rapidly become snow covered and travel will be difficult to extremely dangerous on Tuesday. 
Other impacts, strong winds between 20 and 30 mph Tuesday afternoon will create significant blowing and drifting snow along with highly reduced visibilities into Tuesday night. Additionally, falling temperatures will also be likely Tuesday night producing wind chill temperatures well below zero by Wednesday morning. 
Precautionary/preparedness actions, 
A winter storm watch means there is a potential for significant snow, sleet, or ice accumulations that may impact travel. Continue to monitor the latest forecasts during this still developing winter storm. 
Conditions can deteriorate rapidly in winter weather situations. Slow down and allow extra time when traveling. Practice your winter safety rules, keep a flashlight, food and water in your car in case of emergency."

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I prefer to "practice my winter safety rules" by simply staying indoors. But that's just me. 

On a seemingly unrelated note, I have received the highest of compliments. Yes, even better than the Driveway Award. My blog has been complimented on Olive's Pearls. 

Have a great weekend, all!

A New Low

Oh sure, there are times I can fit in to polite society. But just when you think you've gotten all the kids out of diapers, here we go again. As often happens, the baby got diaper rash, necessitating medicated soap in her bath. And she didn't even want to play with the duckies.

Gideon saw the residue left in the tub and exclaimed that he was "never taking a bath in there again." As if the tub doesn't require a good scrubbing after he and his brother come in from taking turns burying each other in mud.

Nice socks, Gidster. Got another pair just like it in your drawer?

After a bath and a fresh diaper, what baby doesn't need a good bottle?

I think other people my age get out more often. 

 

Residential Flatwork

Yeah I know. The Golden Globe Awards just gained national, if not international attention and acclaim. But Hollywood is fickle, and fame is fleeting. What matters most in this sad old world of ours  is that our driveway has won its first award. This is actually the first driveway we've ever had that has won an award. To be completely honest, I didn't realize this was a possibility. 

I asked our driveway what it thought about the honor. It was too verklempt to speak for quite some time, but I finally got him to say a few words, which he wanted to convey to you here, since the permanence of his residency ironically makes road travel impossible.

"I'd like to first of all thank The Concrete Promotional Group, a heretofore relatively unknown organization, without whom this honor would not have been possible. Second, the Easleys themselves, who have provided me with a strong foundation since my youth. They poured their heart and money into my very existence, and made sure I was never spoiled by my fame, yet used daily for the purpose for which I was made. The solid groundwork upon which I was laid is a testimony to their commitment--nay, their sincere dedication--that driveways everywhere should be treated with respect, whether they be a few feet long or half a mile, such as I am. But I am not here to brag, because I cannot take credit (and neither would the company that formed me) because all that I am brings me to the events of today, and has further cemented my belief that justice truly does exist in this world, and if you just lay there every day and let people walk all over you, you too may be the recipient of this award. But I wouldn't seal my pores."

He said it all, really. I remain humbled and we will try not allow this to go to our heads. I'm not saying it will be easy. The award sets next to my high school arm-wrestling championship trophy and the children's Grand Prix awards. The Golden Spoon awards (spray painted wooden spoons) stand triumphantly behind them, earned by the children for creating delicious desserts. 

Let's get back to what was really important about today though. The snow started to melt and was at that perfect temperature for making snow folk. Also, it was Martin Luther King Jr. day, and homeschoolers know that there's never really such a thing as a day off. So the snow-folk were allowed after morning chores were done. 

Abigail and Mercy were annoyed at Isaiah's decision to put arms on the snowperson.

Susannah soon tired of rolling snow, and wanted to know if this looked like a realistic enough head to put on a snow-woman. Sure Susannah, it looks totally normal. Especially on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. At least the snowwoman should have been dyed black. We could have named her Rosa. 

Josh wasn't content with a mere snowman. So here is his snow throne. The children took turns being a royal something-or-other.

Finally Josh got a chance to relax on his throne.

Judson finished his featureless snowperson.

Nate used a little more artwork in his creation.

After a brief date with hot chocolate....

It was then time for school. Who better to learn about today, than the holiday bearing the name of who was being celebrated?

 ]

It took a couple hours, but they all finished their sheets, and a Q&A afterward. Good thing they (mostly) paid attention to their lessons! They were then released to play for the rest of their....holiday.

Apparently there may be another "snow day" tomorrow, as freezing ice is predicted for tonight. It matters not that much to us, but it somehow all seems more festive when the world decrees that it is too dangerous to venture out. 

Good thing I went to the grocery store today. 

 

Quarantined

Except we were allowed free to go to the dr. yesterday. We thought we'd beaten this...this "thing" that's had us in its clutches on and off for a couple of weeks, but yesterday morning when several of them woke up with fevers and sounding like a seal begging for its sardine, I realized it was Time. Time to call and talk the dr's office into fitting us all in. 

After a back and forth on the phone with the receptionist speaking with various nurses to see if they could fit in 8 children, and in between me making phonecalls to cancel Abigail's physical therapy session and all of their piano/voice lessons, we got it all straightened out. Believe it or not, Brett was actually able to accompany me to the dr, but we did drive separately because his flight left out and the dr's office is kind of by the airport. So that was a big help, because they were able to split up the children in different rooms and they like to have a parent in each room. Turns out we needed three rooms but they were all next to each other. 

The waiting room had toys. Toys for young children. But since everyone wasn't well, it's about all their brains could handle anyway. Nate and Jud played teacher. Abigail felt too sick to even join in. 

There was a man in the waiting room who kept wanting to give the children a toy that he'd found out in the parking lot (we saw it on the way in). Politeness didn't work, and when he actually came and sat right next to them and asked them to show him how to play the game, Brett told him to go back and sit where he had been before or he'd have to get security to help him leave. 

This kind of thing happens frequently and I'll never get used to it. Now that our non-ambulatory children have grown up we tend to be a little less noticeable so it doesn't happen nearly as often as it used to. The children take it in stride, but it never ceases to freak me out. We've had some odd stuff happen. Remind me to tell you the story about the woman in the Hobby Lobby parking lot who clawed at my window and screamed at me because I wouldn't let her buy things for my children. She followed me out from the checkout line, yelling the whole time about how she was just trying to be nice, then tried to grab the door as we were piling in and I was yelling to the kids "LOCK THE DOORS!  NOW!"  Oh, Amy would remember, she had just gotten her permit and was the driver so the woman was trying to get the driver's door open. 

Well, I guess I just did tell you the story. 

But, I digress.  

We spent the better part of 3 hours total, which included lots of breathing treatments for the children to test their lung capacity. I'm guessing.

Abigail wore her sweater with the long arms (it's her favorite). Although when she was younger I'd always alter her clothes to prevent "sleeve flop" (I imagine things like getting her sleeve caught in a car door and the car driving away, or some other misfortune that only mothers imagine), now that she's older I let her choose if she wants her sleeves altered. Usually she does not. This can result in amusing incidents, such as after the nurse took her temperature (102.8) the nurse said "Now I have to take your blood pressure." Abigail pushed up one of her pant legs. The nurse said "Are you chilled?" Abbi said no. The nurse said "Can you just take one of your arms out of your sweater so I can take your blood pressure?" 

Abigail:  I don't have any.

Nurse (not really comprehending): I just need you to take one of your arms out for just a couple minutes.

Abigail: Can you just take it on my leg?

Nurse: We take blood pressures on arms.

Abigail: I don't have any.

Nurse: (looking at me) She doesn't?

Me: (having let the conversation go on this far for two reasons:  #1-- Abigail needs to learn to speak up for herself which she doesn't like to do but needs to. #2-- I find it amusing) No, she doesn't have any, she just needs the smaller pressure cuff and you can take it on her leg. 

Finally, all was said, done. Gideon needed breathing treatments at home twice a day, and since I'm still not feeling the greatest (yes, I'm that dull, and knew I'd never remember all the steps), and the nurse was trying to explain the machine and how to put the medicine in So I took a video of her demonstration with my iPhone. Handy things!  

 

Should I say, "Thank goodness for insurance"?  I think I will.

 And you can see how pleased Gideon is to do his treatments. At least he's cooperative.

Our goats don't vacation just because we're sick, and we had another kid born. We're keeping her in the house until it warms up a bit outside. Gideon feels much better this morning, so wanted to feed her. 

Yes, that's a diaper she's wearing. I've cleaned up enough animal (and human) excrement in my day. She's very sweet and makes a nice house pet for awhile. 

 

And Isaiah wanted to see "if it was still cold out" today. It is.

Stay warm, everyone!

Crabby Legs

Sure, we had a great Christmas and New Year's and I may post more about that later.

But then I got really sick the other day. Then a few other members of the family got really sick. Two  nights ago I was so sick, I ate rotten crab legs. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Sunday evening, despite not feeling the greatest, we went out on a planned activity with the children anyway. When we got home I was so hungry I couldn't think of anything except the crab legs that I'd bought 3 days ago, with the express intent on eating them on New Year's Eve while watching "It's a Wonderful Life." (those two things go together, don't they?)

Then we got invited out on New Year's Eve--our whole family--which almost never happens (see: number of children) and we decided to go to the place where there were lots of homemade treats (including sushi!) and bored board games. Brett discovered Boggle for the first time. It's now on its way here from Amazon.com. 

Thankfully there was a Pictionary game going on as well, which is one of few games I have the patience to handle for longer than 5 minutes. I have come to terms with this about myself--this.. not liking to play most board games. I have decided that I'm still a good-enough mom, even though I don't play Crazy 8's or Go Fish card games with my children. Instead, I give them a daily vitamin and figure that when they're old and healthy, they can decide which games they want to play, and mock me after I'm dead about what a lousy mother I was. "She could have just fed us healthy, homegrown vegetables and meat instead of the vitamin, and still played games. It wasn't an either/or situation there." 

But our gardens never make it past the July drought anyway, and the children sob when we try to butcher our meat goats. "I love her! She's always so nice when I go out to the barn!" Instead, we purchase half a beef twice a year and also shoot deer (two this year! Go Josh and Brett!). My explanation that the cow also at one time had a face and parents, doesn't seem to hold water with the children. So the "hay-burners" live their lives out in pleasure in our fine pastures. 

So, last night when we got back from our activity with the kiddos, I was at that time quite feverish and had no brain activity left. Really, I think if I'd been hooked up to an EEG, it would have flat-lined. See, for a couple of days we'd been trying to figure out what the heck that awful smell was, coming from the refrigerator. Sometimes Brett would open the fridge, dig around a bit, and say something like "It seems like a rotten meat sort of smell" and then we'd discuss what meat was in the fridge. Of course it wasn't the children's bologna, that takes at least a year to rot thanks to current processing methods (Oh, hence the vitamins). Then--eureka!--I found an old bag of chives. Tossed those, sealed up the trash bag, and tossed it in the garbage cart to be taken out later this week. Confidently I strode over to the fridge and opened it up again. 

No change. 

It didn't occur to me that it could be the crab legs, because I'd *just bought them* 3 days ago. I went to my computer, too weary to carry on, and slumped over while reading boring political sites. Then Brett--not feeling too well himself--declared that he found the offending food, and it was the crab legs. 

"BOTH bags?" I said. Both? Really?  Maybe just one. Because now that he said "crab legs" they immediately sounded like something I must have very soon. 

He said that one bag was bad so he threw it out but the other seemed...okay.  So despite not feeling the greatest himself, he cooked up the crab legs, melted some butter, and served it to me. Immediately I knew they, too, were rotten. By this time Brett was so stuffed up he couldn't smell anything so "it seemed fine to him."  Good enough. In retrospect, it was a huge mistake, because on top of the flu I now had food poisoning. Not bad really but enough to make me curious about my sanity. 

So on a good note, we'll leave you with a few photos of our wonderful holiday season, which really was wonderful, and all I'd hoped it would be. 

But then, my standards are low.

And, what would a holiday scenario be without baby livestock? I ask you.

Have a beautiful New Year, all!