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. 

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! 

 

A Rude Awakening

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http://talesfromthewaitingroom.typepad.com/

Since daddy's out of town, the appliances are once again operating on the same wave-length. While there is usually a sort of détente between appliances and vehicles, these barriers come down to unite against a common enemy when they sense Brett has left the hemisphere.    

Shortly after he jetted off, I was nervous with anticipation. I should make book on this, except there are too many variables. Less than 24 hours later I was rewarded with the brakes going out on the Suburban, while I was driving 5 children to horseback riding lessons. I knew enough to take it slow and pump the brake pedal all the way home, and by the time I turned into the driveway I had to stand up on the brake pedal to get the vehicle to stop. But we made it. Parked the suburban, turned my attention to the heir apparent for the next 9 days--the 15 passenger Eggplant. The next morning, Josh noticed a pool of water under the front of it. Sure, the water pump had recently gone out, but Brett had fixed it before he left. Perhaps this was residual.  I decided to ignore it if and until any future issues presented themselves. So far, so good. 

I looked forward to sleeping in for a little while Saturday morning--not for too long, but just a little while. Christina was taking the 5 older children to Bible Quiz, which lasted until it was time to go to the Fall Fest at church last night. So we just met them all there. However, the best laid plans and all, as they say.

"To sleep, perchance to be awakened." 

Sometime shortly after 5 a.m. an unfamiliar alarm went off. Not *my* alarm, because even with a cobweb of sleep enveloping me, I know how to turn that off. "Malfunctioning smoke alarm" was my next thought. I'm not sure why my first thought is always that the smoke alarms are malfunctioning when they go off, and that there isn't really a fire. I'm either an optimist or a fool. Feel free to vote in the comments section. 

The sound was cricket-like elusive. I unplugged every appliance in the bathroom, and then started going through drawers. Progress! A drawer I opened made the sound unbearably louder. Brett's travel drawer. Ahh, he was with me even when gone. I opted not to get lost in the romance of it, but instead tore through the drawer, opening business class travel kit after business class travel kit. The children love these so we don't throw them out. They contain cute little toothpaste tubes and various tiny sundries that make going to camp or a night at a friend's more fun. 

Finally! I had the culprit in my hand. It appeared to be a large black button with no discernible means of turning it off, and it was apparently at the end of its useful battery-life. However, it was not going to peacefully shuffle off this mortal coil, nor go quietly into that dark night. I stomped on it. Pieces flew. Each piece mocked me, making a continually louder noise as I exposed the insides. Another instrument of destruction is what was needed here. Ah...my old nemesis, the bathroom scale. 

It exploded and silenced the device once and for all. I knew that scale would be good for something, someday. I left the carnage on the floor, noting that I still had another 2.5 hours to sleep, so back to a warm, comfortable bed it was. Instead of sleep, however, the unbidded thought popped into my head: "I don't read to the children often enough. I should start another series, like we used to do. I used to be a better mother."  That got me thinking about different literature, and a saying from Charlotte Brontë came to mind:  "A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow."  

Grabbed my laptop to see if I could lull myself to sleep by reading political websites. Finally decided to forget it, and got up. There's a certain peacefulness that exists when I am up and no one else is. I don't experience it often enough, thankfully.

Time, then, for photos of the destroyed alarm. Some good shall rise out of the ashes of insomnia.

After the photo, I threw away the offending pieces in three different trash cans, lest the parts find each other and reassemble back into a working alarm. I'm not an evolutionist, but I do think that in this instance the laws of physics would be suspended, order would arise from disorder, and Roboclock would once again be a functional unit if left to its own devices in a single trash can. 

Speaking of Bible Quiz (weren't we?), we received our buzzer pads this week. At the competition, it's all about who jumps first. Like a game show. So they sit on the pads and the machine determines who jumps first. We were thrilled to get our practice units, and the kids wanted to try them out.

We had a guest this past week, a son of friends of ours. He's on the far left. He's also Josh, so I was relegated to middle names or last names all week. I noticed it made Guest Josh nervous to have me yell out his full name (which includes two middle names). So we went with first and last names. We were sorry to see him leave yesterday, he was an entertaining guest. The boys enjoyed having help with the chores. 

Last night was the Fall Fest. Josh manned one of the games.

Gideon loved picking out prizes.

As did Isaiah.

Susannah helped me a lot at my booth, and then was released to go play for awhile. Her favorite game was the basketball hoop thing. She tried hard and finally got one in. 

Christina found a baby to hold.

On the way out, they all had to do the bouncy castle one more time.

They ended up using the extra "fall back" hour last night coming down off their sugar high. 

Today we have friends coming over for lunch after church, and we're going to practice photography, using our children as the guinea pigs. One of the ladies got some new lights and is anxious to try them out. We'll do so in the makeshift studio I have in the basement.

It appears I have to postpone my breakdown once again. It was all scheduled for the summer of 2025, but I think I'll still be busy. 

Tarantulas 'N Roses

As promised, here are the tarantula photos. One morning in Haiti a couple weeks ago, Brett woke up and saw that Josh had a tarantula crawling on his back. Josh was just starting to wake up too, and Brett said in a low, stern voice: "Do not move." 

Josh knows his dad well enough to obey a direct order like that. We do have other children that, upon hearing something like that, would flail around saying "What is it? GET IT OFF ME!"

So the spider was gently brushed off without incident. One of the first things Josh said upon once again receiving the gift of speech, was "You know mom's going to want to know why you didn't get a picture of the spider while it was still on me." 

He was right, that was the first question I asked upon hearing the tale. Brett said he thought the more prudent action was to remove the venomous spider from his son first. I pointed out that tarantulas don't have enough poison to kill a strapping young lad, though it would be painful (as was the 28 hours of labor giving birth to Josh, I might toss in for speculation). And since Josh is allergic to stinging insects (YES, I know, spiders are arachnids, not insects) Brett also said that he might be allergic to the spider as well. I pointed out that they did bring Josh's epi-pen with them. 

But I forgave all, because indeed they did get photos. And upon further reflection, I did see their point. Probably best not to purposely tempt fate and get bitten by a poisonous spider, especially since it's doubtful the local witch doctor accepts Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Kansas City. 

And not to minimize the situation further, but my older sister Pam had a pet tarantula for years. Hers was at least twice the size of this one and much fuzzier, and would have consumed it immediately, merely out of embarrassment for the species. 

Here's the group on the last day. Everyone survived.

They got a lot of work done there, mostly mechanical, on the well-drilling rig. Some welding also. 

The week brought them home, but then had daddy leaving on business. My emotions run thusly:

Ah, but he was so thoughtful, and a lovely bouquet arrived the day after he left. Aren't they lovely?

He's so nice. I really think this marriage thing is going to work out for us. Just so happens, when he returns this week it'll be his birthday the next day, so I've ordered various types of gourmet animal flesh and muscle, and sea insects for appetizers. True, I'll have to heat it up, as it will arrive with a huge pack of dry ice. We'll throw that in the pool for the children's amusement. They never tire of that. 

Bible Quiz started up again. Always a good time for me, though a bit stressful for the participants. We had a great start yesterday--the teens did well. This is Mercy's first year and she was nervous but recited a whole quote (has to be word-for-word or it doesn't count, yes they are merciless ; ) )

The whole team.

Christina (front left) is too old to be a quizzer so she is their coach. It involves paperwork, which she loves. 

Oh, but I mustn't forget another of the weeks' highlights! We received a chickment on Friday morning. Apparently they are rather loud (as we all would be, traveling in a box for two days without food or drink) and when the post office receives them they're a peeping nightmare. So the call sounds something like this:  PLEASE. COME. PICK. UP. YOUR. LIVESTOCK. ARRIVAL. NOW. Livestock indeed!  More like sweet little bundles of fluffiness!

♫ Anticipation ♫ 

Awwwww!

 Ahhhh...finally some food and water!

 

 We ordered all pullets (females) because, for you non-farm folk, those are the ones that lay eggs. Also with a minimum order of 25, we get a free rare-breed chick (of unknown gender). So we always check that box, because they usually look funky, or have furry feet when they mature, or something that makes chore-time even more fun than it already is. He's (she's?) the one in the first photo that's separated out. Nate did that as soon as he opened the box, because he likes to guess which breed it is. This time, we don't know. We'll have to wait until he grows up. He's kind of blueish.

It gets old rather quickly having the chicks in the house, so they are now up at the coop, huddled under a heat lamp, in their very own "chick" room as they are too small to be with the big hens and roosters who would promptly peck them to death for no apparent reason. I've come to realize that chickens are not clever creatures. Are there such things as wild chickens?  I wonder how they survive.

Have a beautiful day. It's sunny here and just chilly enough to want to wear a sweater. Perfect.  

 

Come on Baby, Light my Fire

We came home after an exhausting (fun though!) week of teaching VBS. There was quite a lightning storm while we were there and since Brett just drives the bus kids before and after, he came home during the storm to put away all the dogs and make sure all windows were closed. He texted me while he was here and said lightning struck on our property. But all seemed okay when he came back for the 2nd bus route. When we were coming in our driveway, several children noticed a strange glow in the woods. There was much speculation by them as to what it was (and me realizing they read too many fantasy books), so we stopped to have a look. Way up high--25 feet to be almost exact, lightning had struck one of our trees and it was spitting sparks everywhere. By this time the rain had stopped, but not the wind, so every gust brought up new flames. 

It's at times like these that mine and Brett's personalities are reduced to their essence.

Me:  I'll go get my zoom lens while you go call the fire department.

Brett: It hasn't come to that. I can put this out.

Me: Really? How so? (flames shooting higher into the sky, sparks everywhere on the underbrush).

Brett: I haven't figured that part out yet.

Me: Dear, the nice firemen won't think you're a wuss for calling them. They have actual equipment that can put this out in a few minutes and it's their job. I don't think we have a 300 yard long hose. Or do you want to shimmy up the tree with a big sand bucket while sparks rain down on you?

Brett: (realizing with annoyance that I might perhaps be right): FINE. But I have to go up to the house and find the number for the fire department.

Me: I think it's just 911, right?

Brett: (it was dark out, but I heard his eyes roll at me):  That's only for emergencies.

Me: (watching while the wind whips flames higher into the air, seeing sparks landing on more trees that have been made tinder-dry by the recent 500-week heat wave): I think this constitutes as one. 

Grudgingly, he went to the house to make the Phone Call of Shame. And yes, dialed 911, as he admitted to me later. 

In the meantime, I was texting Christina all about it, who was out with friends. Our conversation, though a bit different, was more entertaining.

Me: We have a tree on fire. I finally talked dad into calling the fire department. Don't worry though, I'm taking pictures.

Tina: What in the world??!! Send me a pic on my phone! Which tree is it?

Me: I never did get around to naming the trees but let's start now. I'll call him Bernie. 

Tina: ROFL! I just meant, it's not like the big one out front is it?

Me: Nah, it's one in the woods. Just don't want it to burn down all our woods and make its way to the house. I'm funny that way.

---------------

Soon, we heard sirens in the distance. I made Brett go back and collect all the children so they could have a Learning Experience. Why, this was more exciting than the meteor shower I made them all watch and learn about last night. 

The fire dept. had a difficult time finding our place, since it's relatively new and not on all the GPS stuff yet. But they did arrive in plenty of time. 

 

Sorry for the poor quality photo, but wanted to catch the action more than set up my tripod. In retrospect, had I known about the fire, I would have been completely prepared. Anyway, here they are, putting out the fire with actual equipment. 

The final conference, was the fire out? Could they leave now?  Brett's in the blue shirt, deciding if and how he should apologize for calling the fire department out for an actual blaze that could have destroyed our entire property. 

 

Brett will no doubt not sleep tonight, since he won't take the word of the fire department that the blaze has been extinguished, and will be checking every hour on the hour to be sure that the fire hasn't started up again. 
 

As for me? I'm headed to bed and will stay there. G'night everyone.

Shock and Awesome

Several people (okay, two) have pointed out that when they click over to my blog from Facebook, there are no videos and some punctuation is missing (I'm flattered that they don't assume it's my error).  I don't think FB will allow video links, so if you're reading this from FB, you can go directly to my blog--which in all honesty you should have bookmarked in the first place--

Tales From the Waiting Room (and other stories)

Then you'll be able to see the video I posted from Sunday (where Josh speaks). 

Oh, and this fab video of Mercy milking a goat. Susannah has a turn also. 

Here's the direct link if the vid doesn't play: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ts0nDRUrAwc

If you recall, last week several of our appliances committed hari-kari because they sensed Brett was out of town on business. Bless him, in the few hours he had home, he fixed every single issue. However, he's gone again, and the house found out. 

Here's our pool, which I've tried everything available (and then went to buy more stuff) to shock into submission, yet the algae remains. For some reason, the girls want to play in the sprinkler this week :P  It'll take Brett being here again to frighten it into it's usual crystal-clear state. 

 

Sad looking, isn't it?  

Oh, and let's not forget the quail-watering system. I love my quail and the eggs are especially cute when cooked in a darling quail-egg pan:

 

For size comparison, on the left is a quail egg from a beginner, the next one is the beginner's egg size the next week and then the normal size quail egg--compared to a regular sized chicken egg. 
 

So I want my quail to be comfortable, but their watering system kept breaking. Thankfully though, Brett loves hearing my melodious voice anytime, especially when he's holding up a sheet of drywall in Oklahoma and I'm saying "TELL ME ONCE AND FOR ALL HOW TO FIX THIS OR I'LL DO MY OWN KEVORKIAN-ESQ FIX!"

So he walked me through it but it still didn't work. He said I needed wire clippers, which were were "in his shop." The Shop is a large and scary place to me, and his descriptions of where things are never fit what I can find in real life. So I hung up on him, mad at myself immediately for knowing that I'd have to apologize for hanging up on him. In my defense, he should have presciently realized that I'd be needing wire-clippers this week and put them on my desk with a large post-it marked "SUSAN, USE THESE WHEN THE QUAIL WATERING SYSTEM GOES OUT."  Maybe next time he'll learn. 

Lest you think I always complain, here's some things I'm thankful for:

My friend Michelle, who gave me nearly-rotten bananas, so I could make more blueberry-banana bread. I still had a few bananas left over (I'd mashed and frozen them to use them later) so the girls I and bit the proverbial bullet, octupuled the recipe, and went for it. Here's a few of the loaves. We didn't have quite enough at the end for another loaf so Mercy suggested muffins. Then declared that since she thought of it, she should be able to eat those. Fair enough. Seems like there's plenty of bread for the rest of us. 

   

Thank you, Michelle. Maybe I'll share some with you....

Oh and the pretty plaid blue dress that Susannah's worn in the past few photos? Yeah, it tore badly (and not on a seam of course) when she misstepped when climbing over the chicken coop (we do have a ladder but she slipped). She was upset, as the dress was brand new. It was so badly torn on the bottom half, it never would have looked good even with a decent stitching job. Time for an altering lesson. 

First cut the bottom of the dress off. Iron up the bottom of what is now a shirt, to make a hem. Then start to sew--with supervision.

Not bad at all! In fact, quite cute! And now, extra fabric to use for dolly blankets to match.

 
  
 I'd be remiss not to mention my Happy Property, now that our wonderful Hay Guy has visited. The grass has to get really high for him to be able to properly "hay" it, so it looks not-so-nice until he gets here. 

Have a great day, everyone!

The Nominees are...And the award goes to the Dark Horse winner...

Sling Blade :  As I attempted to go through airport security on my way to New York the other day, I watched in dismay as my Mary Kay "Skin Firming and Glowing" lotion was unceremoniously dumped into the trash by security personnel, the stated reason being "too many ounces of liquid." 

When I was settled on board and was rummaging through my purse looking for a pen, I noticed this baby:

My first thought was, "I should give this to the flight attendant." My second thought was, "Or not." 

Then it became clear to me: The world was in much greater danger of me being dull and flabby than me with a weapon, but there you are. 

While I was in NY I mailed it back to our home. Yah, wasn't going to try that again. Still, I couldn't figure out how it got into my purse. Upon a flurry of text messages with DH, he confessed that when we took all the kids to the Civil War Re-enenactment last weekend, he had tucked it into my purse when I wasn't looking, as it was getting too heavy in his pocket. He'd meant to remove it later...

North by Northwest: When I got to the airport, I noticed that although my ticket still said "Northwest," the signs all said "Delta." Upon further research (i.e., chatting with the gate attendant), I found that by September, Northwest will be completely assimilated by Delta Airlines. As an old-movie buff, I know in my heart that "North by Delta" simply does not have the same ring to it, and I sincerely pray that no remake will ever show its ugly face. Give my regards to A. Hitchcock. 

Blade Runner:  DH has replaced all of the warm, glowing, welcoming lights in our household with strange blue-ish lights that apparently save a great deal of money on electricity bills. I now feel as though I reside on the set of Blade Runner. If you haven't seen it, you're either not related to me, or too young. And I mean that sincerely. 

Shrek: Oh yeah, we have donkeys. Most recently, our Easter Donkey that Isaiah named Thumper, because of her ears. 

And the anticipated award goes to...Me, apparently!

I was humbled, pleased and shocked to receive a blog award from the esteemed Jodie of Organised Chaos.  She spells in Australian and uses up a lot of s's and extra u's.

Thank you, Jodie! This is now my second blog award, bizarre especially because I only update every two weeks! Or sometimes four!  

Here's the schtick: The award acknowledges the value every blogger shows in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literacy and personal values everyday. The rules are simple enough! They are: 1. Accept the award, post it in your blog together with the name of person who granted the award and a link to their blog. 2. Pass the award to 15 other blogs that are worthy of this acknowledgment. Contact them to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Well, I'm not sure I even *read* 15 other blogs. But here's the ones I check up with, on a semi-regular basis. In alphabetical order so as not to create a bandwidth pushing and shoving match and bringing the inter-tubes to its knees:

Cara at C'est la Vie (ours anyway) a charming, handwritten blog about life in France with her darling family.

Jen at Knitters-Knitters who can spin a yarn like nobody's business. And has the cutest Spaniel in the Universe. 

Linda at My So-Called Life who has always been so encouraging to me, and a true inspiration. 

Christina at The Randomness of Life, my very own daughter who is creative and energetic and thoughtful and COOKS DINNER SEVERAL NIGHTS A WEEK!!

Jim at Retro Snark who I do not know personally but love how he digs up the past so he can bury it again™ 

Kim at Ruined Art who also happens to be my darling sister-in-law! I still can't figure out why she calls her blog that, because it's anything but ruined!  Beautifully creative, is more like it. I covet her chalkware. 

Tracy at Tracy Ann Digital Art, my design team leader who has the patience of a saint with all of us on her wacky team. 

Jeff at Washed by the Word our church's amazing youth pastor and music director, who puts up with my teenagers with a great deal of patience and grace. Thank you, Jeff!

Amber at Welcome to Grouchland who photographs like none other, yet keeps ignoring me when I ask her to simply fly over to this continent and take a few pictures of my children. Is that too much to ask? :)

Thanks to all of you, for existing to entertain me :)