The caliper for the brakes came in Tuesday. Our dear friend, Larry, arranged to meet James here yesterday to help him put it in. It's been a long week, juggling rides and tweaking schedules, but everyone pitched in and it worked. And what fortune, to have good friends!
We pulled in and noticed that his face looked distinctly like he had bad news ... We got out to greet him, and ...
What's that smell? Is that gasoline? Where's it ... Ohhh.
Oh, my.
So, the downside is that the pressurized fuel line is leaking. But it's not the tank - the tank is fine. That's good.
The downside is that while we can learn to repair it, there's more cost, plus a heck of a learning curve, especially in February, with no garage to work in. The upside is that Z's not here, so we don't have to spend the next week squatting in the road, in the cold and the wet, handing him tools. (He can fix anything, and if he can, then he feels he ought. The rest of us are pretty supportive, but we'll cry, "Uncle!" long before he will.)
And the new tire is flat. But hey, at least we don't need to use it!
The downside is that the Volvo is worth significantly less now that it's not functional. The upside is that perhaps there's someone who really needs parts to make their own Volvo safe, and now those parts will be available.
The upside is that James is not alone in a hostile environment, and he has support and help to get where he needs to be.
He doesn't have to walk ten miles each way to get to school or work.
He has a wonderful roommate who is supportive and kind, and offered to carpool whenever their schedules allow.
We didn't discover both the brake failure and the gas leak out on the road ... At the same time! (That makes me queasy just thinking about it.)
He has a bike -- one he can fix, tweak, and fiddle with. He knows how to repair it, maintain it, and generally keep himself mobile with it. He has a helmet. And a bike lock.
He is safe.
I am thankful.
And while I am a little overwhelmed at how on the very edge of disaster we seem to be living these days, I can't help but be a little relieved because the edge is not the crevice. It's not free fall. It's not the end. It's just a very cautious walk with a pretty spectacular view, and although I cannot wait to be firmly back away from the edge, I can't help but be thankful for everything that's going right. God really is in the details -- in the relationships and encouragement, in the kindnesses and the caring gestures. That's it, right there.
It really is all in how you look at it.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Thursday, February 1
Sunday, January 28
Go For It
Jacob wants to attend a summer program for dance. If you're serious about your dance, this appears to be someone non-negotiable. Okay. We can do that.
Turns out, audition season starts right-the-immediate-hell-after-New-Years. Or, more importantly, hot on the heels of Nutcracker season. So that's like surviving a typhoon only to head straight into tornado country. It's probably not that bad once you already know the rhythm, but if you're new, it's exhausting, confusing, a little stressful, and rather expensive.
Learning about this process is like trying to get a straight answer out of Lindsay Bluth. I don't know how they know these things, or where they learned about them. Other people do seem to know where they want to go; we only know that there are places to go. We've researched and read, we've checked FAQs and found ballet blogs and websites. It's all still clear as mud.
"Where does Jacob want to go?"
"Somewhere that'll take him ... You know, I'm glad you asked. Which programs are good?"
"It depends on the child."
"Uh ... It's Jacob. You've met him. Where would you recommend?"
"It depends on what he wants."
"Okay, he would love to find X,Y,Z."
"It really depends on the program."
"Okay, we'd like A, B, C."
"It'll really depend on the instructor."
Huh? I've put in nearly 100 hours researching this, and I am no closer to having a clue what I'm doing now than I was in December.
Also, I realize it's terribly gauche to talk about money, but I'll be honest, if I had a spare $4K-$9K lying around, we'd be doing something Very Different at the moment than working every spare minute, driving on bald tires. So, in my world, that's a thing. And it's a thing that really must be discussed before commitments can be made. (We found several places that will allow students to apply for scholarships after they've auditioned, been accepted, committed to attending the program, and paid a $500 non-refundable deposit. Clearly, those are not schools that would be a good fit for us. So, I guess I have learned at least something so far.)
He's only been dancing for a year, so he's not highly competitive. We get that. However, you don't get any better if you don't push yourself and try. At least, that seems to be his approach. Bless him. So, there were two auditions this weekend in Atlanta. But I worked all day Saturday, Z is in New Mexico, and the Volvo is still on lockdown because it can't be trusted not to kill people. That leaves one vehicle, which really needed to be with John, at home, in case the Littles blew something up or jumped off the roof, or ... I don't know. I mean, they're actually the least likely to ever do anything dangerous, but I'd rather they have guidance and a ride to the ER on hand and never need it than for them to need it and not have it. So. There we were. A willing and eager student and no way to get to Atlanta.
I ran through the moms-of-boys at the school, and nobody I had contact information for was going. (Which, really, ought to have been a clue that this was going to be a gnarly couple of auditions, but have I mentioned we're new here?) So I started poking the few moms-of-girls I have contact info for. A dear, sweet friend offered him a place to stay in Atlanta and a ride to auditions (or we could have even Ubered), so he only needed to get TO Atlanta. Again, nobody was going.
Then I found one. She and her daughter were leaving that day, right after lunch. Could he make it in time?
Yes, yes he could. (NOW we're in familiar territory! If I know how to make something happen, I can make it happen in record time. That's one of my gifts. Thank you, Lord!) We made a mad dash around town to get his photos printed, snag fresh t-shirts, and switch out a pair of tights. (I'd bought him a replacement pair last week, thinking I was so on the ball -- but no, Body Wrappers tights are sized VERY differently than Capezio. So differently. That was awkward.) Pointe Dancewear, in Madison, however, is the most magnificent place to get dance gear. I am very thankful for them.
Home to pack, and they were off.
He did it. I don't know how he did. I plied him with questions (like I do) and he refused to talk about it until he's eaten and slept (like he does). All he was willing to say was, "Turns out those are the two hardest programs out there." Oh. Oops. I'll probably hear more this week.
Regardless of what the schools thought of him, though, he now has two auditions under his belt. He's not completely new at this. He knows a little better what to expect. He knows what he can do. He knows what they want. He has some better ideas, now, and that's so good.
So now we know a little more than we did before. See? We're learning!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Turns out, audition season starts right-the-immediate-hell-after-New-Years. Or, more importantly, hot on the heels of Nutcracker season. So that's like surviving a typhoon only to head straight into tornado country. It's probably not that bad once you already know the rhythm, but if you're new, it's exhausting, confusing, a little stressful, and rather expensive.
Learning about this process is like trying to get a straight answer out of Lindsay Bluth. I don't know how they know these things, or where they learned about them. Other people do seem to know where they want to go; we only know that there are places to go. We've researched and read, we've checked FAQs and found ballet blogs and websites. It's all still clear as mud.
"Where does Jacob want to go?"
"Somewhere that'll take him ... You know, I'm glad you asked. Which programs are good?"
"It depends on the child."
"Uh ... It's Jacob. You've met him. Where would you recommend?"
"It depends on what he wants."
"Okay, he would love to find X,Y,Z."
"It really depends on the program."
"Okay, we'd like A, B, C."
"It'll really depend on the instructor."
Huh? I've put in nearly 100 hours researching this, and I am no closer to having a clue what I'm doing now than I was in December.
Also, I realize it's terribly gauche to talk about money, but I'll be honest, if I had a spare $4K-$9K lying around, we'd be doing something Very Different at the moment than working every spare minute, driving on bald tires. So, in my world, that's a thing. And it's a thing that really must be discussed before commitments can be made. (We found several places that will allow students to apply for scholarships after they've auditioned, been accepted, committed to attending the program, and paid a $500 non-refundable deposit. Clearly, those are not schools that would be a good fit for us. So, I guess I have learned at least something so far.)
He's only been dancing for a year, so he's not highly competitive. We get that. However, you don't get any better if you don't push yourself and try. At least, that seems to be his approach. Bless him. So, there were two auditions this weekend in Atlanta. But I worked all day Saturday, Z is in New Mexico, and the Volvo is still on lockdown because it can't be trusted not to kill people. That leaves one vehicle, which really needed to be with John, at home, in case the Littles blew something up or jumped off the roof, or ... I don't know. I mean, they're actually the least likely to ever do anything dangerous, but I'd rather they have guidance and a ride to the ER on hand and never need it than for them to need it and not have it. So. There we were. A willing and eager student and no way to get to Atlanta.
I ran through the moms-of-boys at the school, and nobody I had contact information for was going. (Which, really, ought to have been a clue that this was going to be a gnarly couple of auditions, but have I mentioned we're new here?) So I started poking the few moms-of-girls I have contact info for. A dear, sweet friend offered him a place to stay in Atlanta and a ride to auditions (or we could have even Ubered), so he only needed to get TO Atlanta. Again, nobody was going.
Then I found one. She and her daughter were leaving that day, right after lunch. Could he make it in time?
Yes, yes he could. (NOW we're in familiar territory! If I know how to make something happen, I can make it happen in record time. That's one of my gifts. Thank you, Lord!) We made a mad dash around town to get his photos printed, snag fresh t-shirts, and switch out a pair of tights. (I'd bought him a replacement pair last week, thinking I was so on the ball -- but no, Body Wrappers tights are sized VERY differently than Capezio. So differently. That was awkward.) Pointe Dancewear, in Madison, however, is the most magnificent place to get dance gear. I am very thankful for them.
Home to pack, and they were off.
He did it. I don't know how he did. I plied him with questions (like I do) and he refused to talk about it until he's eaten and slept (like he does). All he was willing to say was, "Turns out those are the two hardest programs out there." Oh. Oops. I'll probably hear more this week.
Regardless of what the schools thought of him, though, he now has two auditions under his belt. He's not completely new at this. He knows a little better what to expect. He knows what he can do. He knows what they want. He has some better ideas, now, and that's so good.
So now we know a little more than we did before. See? We're learning!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, January 27
I Had A Plan
It was a good plan, too. James brought the Volvo over Thursday. I was going to take it for the other two new tires, a general check up, and a run through the car wash.
Then I started it up.
I didn't even know it had a light that says that! 😱
So, that's a big, fat Nope. I got out of the car and gave thanks that he was home, because that car wasn't going anywhere like that.
A friend came last night and helped him troubleshoot it. The part will be in Monday. Nobody died. Hallelujah!
We figured in the meantime, he could bike, but it turns out he needs a new bike tire, too. 😕 At least that's a quick fix and I can pick up a new tube on the way home from work in the morning.
So, the new plan is to just keep replacing things that are broken until we eventually get all caught up. That, too, is a good plan.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Then I started it up.
I didn't even know it had a light that says that! 😱
So, that's a big, fat Nope. I got out of the car and gave thanks that he was home, because that car wasn't going anywhere like that.
A friend came last night and helped him troubleshoot it. The part will be in Monday. Nobody died. Hallelujah!
We figured in the meantime, he could bike, but it turns out he needs a new bike tire, too. 😕 At least that's a quick fix and I can pick up a new tube on the way home from work in the morning.
So, the new plan is to just keep replacing things that are broken until we eventually get all caught up. That, too, is a good plan.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Thursday, January 25
A Weird Week of Provision and Panic
James called Sunday morning to say he'd be late for church. He'd blown a tire about a mile away. He was fine, which was all I cared about. The rest, we can handle. (We're all vaguely surprised those tires haven't all imploded before now. I knew they were bad, but I'll admit that I haven't paid attention to the vehicle maintenance. This is the first time I've even looked at our tires outside of the one crazy tire on the Highlander that we had to replace earlier in the month.) Blessedly, we've been budgeting, and I've been able to work, so it wasn't a problem to say we could get a new tire. I had an inkling there was no spare (there wasn't - oy!) so I slipped out of church to pick him up and just go get a new tire. When I arrived it was obvious the rim was also shot. Okay, we've got this, right?
So, this week, I learned that you can't just go to Walmart, or even National Tire & Battery, and buy a wheel on the spot. I could have sworn that I'd seen rims for sale in stores before ... But the world has moved on. This is going to be one of my Old Lady Stories. "When I was a child ..." (*waves cane*) Also, it's a '92, so that meant we had to find a junk yard that was open on Sundays and would have a car we could cannibalize. We found one that's open, but they didn't have a single Volvo on the lot. So, we went back, gathered his things, and he left a note (which I didn't see until Tuesday, when we were able to get back to it). Since it's a crappy car parked in a swanky greenbelt parking lot, this was probably a wise course of action:
We spent Sunday evening looking online for wheels at junk yards. The boys thought it would be kind of awesome to buy one really swanky gold colored alloy wheel, preferably with a spinning component. They thought it would be a delightful bit of absurdity against the stock Volvo caps, the missing trim piece on one door, and the mismatched door handle on another. While I appreciate their sense of aesthetics (and humor), I wasn't going to steal grocery money for lolz. I found one in Birmingham (just a plain Jane, stock steel wheel), and confirmed that they still had it.
(As a side note, if you're looking for a market that needs either data entry skills or could use some kind of useful software, junk yard inventories are notoriously out of sync with what's in the yard. So, if you have a superpower and are looking for a place to use it, give that some thought. You could make millions.)
We kicked Jacob off early at ballet, then realized we still wouldn't make it before they closed, so I called to let them know that I wouldn't be able to make it before they closed for the day and I'd just come in the morning. The guy very graciously said to come on down. He said he'd be there whenever I got there, that it wasn't a problem, wasn't an imposition, just come on down. No, really, he'd wait for us. Okay, then. The Littles and I drove down.
87 miles.
He wasn't there. Nobody was there. Nobody answered the phone. I even tried the lock on the gate. And I laid on the horn.
We took a deep breath, then turned around and drove back. It was an awesome (if somewhat forced) exercise in living out every stupid thing I tell the children -- about extending grace, about looking for the positive, about trusting in God's provision, about how we can choose to make a situation better or worse by how we respond to it. But we did it, and we had a really lovely ride down and back.
The next morning, we did this whole Cirque du Soleil level choreography that involved me leaving at 6:30 in the morning to drive 174 miles round trip, get tires mounted and balanced, and get to the Volvo, while the boys spent the morning switching cars and making a dozen relays with John's car so that everyone could get where they needed to be. I went ahead and got two wheels while I was down there so that he'll have a spare in the future, and we hopefully don't have to make that drive again soon. The kids grabbed clothes for me (we had tickets to see a play that day at noon), James picked up everyone from their respective activities, and we all converged on the parking lot where the Volvo sat, looking sketchy and abandoned.
The boys put the two new tires on. The back end is now raised visibly, and it looks like a custom lift job on a crappy car. It's kind of hilarious, if you can get past the mortification aspect. James saw the new tires in the back of the Highlander and was convinced I'd bought the wrong size. "These will never fit on the Volvo!"
No, Love, it's the same size tire, this is just what it looks like with tread. Jacob asked how that happens (which is a completely sane question). "Well, this is 130K miles on 60K-mile tires. Don't do this. Do better than your father and I do, okay? That's the goal."
Of course, that's kind of the goal of everything. Do better than we do. Be more diligent than we were. Be more engaged that we were. Extend grace more readily than we did. Walk more closely with God than we did. And maintain your cars better than we do. Of course, we don't just stick that out there and leave them to their own devices. They have support, resources, and encouragement. And they're doing it.
I told them all that because of who they are -- their willingness to step into the gap and help out, the fact that they can be trusted to look out for each other, the way they are willing to learn and to engage, they took what could have been a total nightmare situation and turned it into nothing more than a mild inconvenience that was easily surmountable. That's alchemy, right there. They wouldn't high five me in the parking lot, but that totally would have been appropriate.
And so, tomorrow, two more new tires (I'm terrified the front two are going to blow just from the added pressure of having the bigger ones on the back.) Thankfully, the weather is nice, James can bike to work and to school. We can give him a lift if he needs one. So, all is well, and we are slowly attending to all the things that clearly need it, one harrowing (yet encouraging) thing on the list at a time.
Sometimes, when things are overwhelming, they can also be encouraging. And that's a good thing.
Be encouraged! (And check your tires!)
~ Dy
So, this week, I learned that you can't just go to Walmart, or even National Tire & Battery, and buy a wheel on the spot. I could have sworn that I'd seen rims for sale in stores before ... But the world has moved on. This is going to be one of my Old Lady Stories. "When I was a child ..." (*waves cane*) Also, it's a '92, so that meant we had to find a junk yard that was open on Sundays and would have a car we could cannibalize. We found one that's open, but they didn't have a single Volvo on the lot. So, we went back, gathered his things, and he left a note (which I didn't see until Tuesday, when we were able to get back to it). Since it's a crappy car parked in a swanky greenbelt parking lot, this was probably a wise course of action:
We spent Sunday evening looking online for wheels at junk yards. The boys thought it would be kind of awesome to buy one really swanky gold colored alloy wheel, preferably with a spinning component. They thought it would be a delightful bit of absurdity against the stock Volvo caps, the missing trim piece on one door, and the mismatched door handle on another. While I appreciate their sense of aesthetics (and humor), I wasn't going to steal grocery money for lolz. I found one in Birmingham (just a plain Jane, stock steel wheel), and confirmed that they still had it.
(As a side note, if you're looking for a market that needs either data entry skills or could use some kind of useful software, junk yard inventories are notoriously out of sync with what's in the yard. So, if you have a superpower and are looking for a place to use it, give that some thought. You could make millions.)
We kicked Jacob off early at ballet, then realized we still wouldn't make it before they closed, so I called to let them know that I wouldn't be able to make it before they closed for the day and I'd just come in the morning. The guy very graciously said to come on down. He said he'd be there whenever I got there, that it wasn't a problem, wasn't an imposition, just come on down. No, really, he'd wait for us. Okay, then. The Littles and I drove down.
87 miles.
He wasn't there. Nobody was there. Nobody answered the phone. I even tried the lock on the gate. And I laid on the horn.
We took a deep breath, then turned around and drove back. It was an awesome (if somewhat forced) exercise in living out every stupid thing I tell the children -- about extending grace, about looking for the positive, about trusting in God's provision, about how we can choose to make a situation better or worse by how we respond to it. But we did it, and we had a really lovely ride down and back.
The next morning, we did this whole Cirque du Soleil level choreography that involved me leaving at 6:30 in the morning to drive 174 miles round trip, get tires mounted and balanced, and get to the Volvo, while the boys spent the morning switching cars and making a dozen relays with John's car so that everyone could get where they needed to be. I went ahead and got two wheels while I was down there so that he'll have a spare in the future, and we hopefully don't have to make that drive again soon. The kids grabbed clothes for me (we had tickets to see a play that day at noon), James picked up everyone from their respective activities, and we all converged on the parking lot where the Volvo sat, looking sketchy and abandoned.
The boys put the two new tires on. The back end is now raised visibly, and it looks like a custom lift job on a crappy car. It's kind of hilarious, if you can get past the mortification aspect. James saw the new tires in the back of the Highlander and was convinced I'd bought the wrong size. "These will never fit on the Volvo!"
No, Love, it's the same size tire, this is just what it looks like with tread. Jacob asked how that happens (which is a completely sane question). "Well, this is 130K miles on 60K-mile tires. Don't do this. Do better than your father and I do, okay? That's the goal."
Of course, that's kind of the goal of everything. Do better than we do. Be more diligent than we were. Be more engaged that we were. Extend grace more readily than we did. Walk more closely with God than we did. And maintain your cars better than we do. Of course, we don't just stick that out there and leave them to their own devices. They have support, resources, and encouragement. And they're doing it.
I told them all that because of who they are -- their willingness to step into the gap and help out, the fact that they can be trusted to look out for each other, the way they are willing to learn and to engage, they took what could have been a total nightmare situation and turned it into nothing more than a mild inconvenience that was easily surmountable. That's alchemy, right there. They wouldn't high five me in the parking lot, but that totally would have been appropriate.
And so, tomorrow, two more new tires (I'm terrified the front two are going to blow just from the added pressure of having the bigger ones on the back.) Thankfully, the weather is nice, James can bike to work and to school. We can give him a lift if he needs one. So, all is well, and we are slowly attending to all the things that clearly need it, one harrowing (yet encouraging) thing on the list at a time.
Sometimes, when things are overwhelming, they can also be encouraging. And that's a good thing.
Be encouraged! (And check your tires!)
~ Dy
Monday, January 22
Oh! Oh, my!
There are times that I half-jokingly say that I'm really not qualified for this job. Then there are times that I am just humbled and awed that anybody ever leaves me in charge of anything, and I mean it wholeheartedly. I really thought I'd know more by now.
But something I realized -- fully realized, in my heart of hearts -- this week, is that it truly is enough to do what's been set before you. Do it well. Do it diligently. Let the rest sort itself out. I have a wonderful ability to see the overarching themes of things, to see the whole picture, and that's great. It lets me grasp new ideas quickly. It lets me bring an idea to fruition in a moment. It can be a lot of fun. But it also means that when things are wonky or askew, I see all the things that are wrong, and I want to fixthemallrightnow. I can't. But that doesn't stop me from trying to.
The thing is, though, I expend so much energy in trying to find that one, brilliant maneuver that will do it all (fix it all, finance it all, repair it all, build it all) in one fell swoop that I tend to forget to do what's right in front of me. I see it. I recognize that it's good. But it doesn't seem like ENOUGH. I feel compelled to find that magic bullet, that extra hour in the day, that superhuman strength to lift not just a car, but an entire train. In my efforts to find this elusive big gun, I end up neglecting the things that are legitimately within my scope of influence.
I also end up diminishing my understanding of just how powerful one word, one task, one job can be.
It seems silly when I put it like that, doesn't it? And yet, if we were to meander back through the years, we'd see time after time that I got hit by stress paralysis, fretting about things that were outside my purview, yet letting the things within my purview fall through the cracks.
This isn't new information. I haven't stumbled upon some hidden brilliance. Mother Theresa got it. Ghandi got it. The Bible is absolutely full of advice right along those lines. The painful irony is that I've even spent the better part of two decades telling the children about this. Do what you know to do, and ask for help with the rest. You can only control your own actions, so do your best with what you have to do right now. You don't have to fix everything, but you do need to take care of your own things. Gosh. It goes on. It's embarrassing, really. I should know better.
But I am learning, so that's good. And it's working, which is also good. When you tend to what's in front of you, and do it diligently, you free up the rest of the world to get on with what it needs to do. You have the bandwidth to see how things move together, and to see how the interconnectedness of everything is at play.
And you can know that it will be okay. You may not know how. You may not know when. But you can trust that it will be.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
But something I realized -- fully realized, in my heart of hearts -- this week, is that it truly is enough to do what's been set before you. Do it well. Do it diligently. Let the rest sort itself out. I have a wonderful ability to see the overarching themes of things, to see the whole picture, and that's great. It lets me grasp new ideas quickly. It lets me bring an idea to fruition in a moment. It can be a lot of fun. But it also means that when things are wonky or askew, I see all the things that are wrong, and I want to fixthemallrightnow. I can't. But that doesn't stop me from trying to.
The thing is, though, I expend so much energy in trying to find that one, brilliant maneuver that will do it all (fix it all, finance it all, repair it all, build it all) in one fell swoop that I tend to forget to do what's right in front of me. I see it. I recognize that it's good. But it doesn't seem like ENOUGH. I feel compelled to find that magic bullet, that extra hour in the day, that superhuman strength to lift not just a car, but an entire train. In my efforts to find this elusive big gun, I end up neglecting the things that are legitimately within my scope of influence.
I also end up diminishing my understanding of just how powerful one word, one task, one job can be.
It seems silly when I put it like that, doesn't it? And yet, if we were to meander back through the years, we'd see time after time that I got hit by stress paralysis, fretting about things that were outside my purview, yet letting the things within my purview fall through the cracks.
This isn't new information. I haven't stumbled upon some hidden brilliance. Mother Theresa got it. Ghandi got it. The Bible is absolutely full of advice right along those lines. The painful irony is that I've even spent the better part of two decades telling the children about this. Do what you know to do, and ask for help with the rest. You can only control your own actions, so do your best with what you have to do right now. You don't have to fix everything, but you do need to take care of your own things. Gosh. It goes on. It's embarrassing, really. I should know better.
But I am learning, so that's good. And it's working, which is also good. When you tend to what's in front of you, and do it diligently, you free up the rest of the world to get on with what it needs to do. You have the bandwidth to see how things move together, and to see how the interconnectedness of everything is at play.
And you can know that it will be okay. You may not know how. You may not know when. But you can trust that it will be.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, January 20
The Birthday Outing
So, it was 11 degrees on Em's birthday. Not inside, obviously, (thankfully) but just knowing it's that cold has an impact. We didn't even get dressed until noon. So, the manicure and the lunch with the boys will have to wait.
BUT, we did go out that day, and we fed her little heart.
First, we went to Anthropologie. I don't shop there. Mainly, because I have very little money. And I have to explain what I've done with it, which would be very hard to do if I spent the entire grocery budget on a throw pillow and a new coffee mug. However, I knew that it would satisfy an aspect of her heart to just BE in that environment. To see things that were designed with an aesthetic that she appreciates. To touch fabrics you don't find at Target or Kohl's, and to peer into designs that are inspired by something bigger than things close to home. To be inspired by what can be done when you have a vision.
We were there for an hour and a half, folks. An hour and a half in a tiny store, and she was not bored for a second. She was awed, and she was thrilled, and she was just quietly enthralled. I followed her around, letting her explain everything to me.
"Mom, feel this bead pattern, now feel this one. See how they feel different?" (For the record, no. My hands are calloused and I hadn't thawed out from the walk to the store yet. But I listened, and smiled, because she was showing me how she experiences the world.)
"Oh, look how they get different results with different knots. Also, they used knots. That's brilliant."
"Ohhhhh, squeeze this. Just grab it in your hands. Isn't that fantastic?"
"We need to find out where you can get this fabric and make one of these."
"Did you touch that plate? You should. It's amazing."
She comes to a dead stop. "Sniff, right here. Do you smell that? What is that?" So we sniffed around and couldn't find the source. We asked an employee to help us find it. She couldn't, either. We have no idea what we were smelling, but it was Stop You In Your Tracks lovely.
Then, we headed to Justice, where she got what I can only describe as her Tween Uniform.
It's adorable. Blessedly, they have a lot of decent, cute stuff this year. It's not an Anthropologie wardrobe, but it works. The ladies who work there were so kind and fun. They made the visit enjoyable. She got a water bottle that the boys won't steal and lose. She got some leggings and some t-shirts. We laughed and poked around. It was a very different vibe, but just as fun.
And now, she is 12. Gosh.
I haven't said it in a while, because (obviously) they aren't babies anymore, but still ...
Kiss those babies!
~ Dy
BUT, we did go out that day, and we fed her little heart.
First, we went to Anthropologie. I don't shop there. Mainly, because I have very little money. And I have to explain what I've done with it, which would be very hard to do if I spent the entire grocery budget on a throw pillow and a new coffee mug. However, I knew that it would satisfy an aspect of her heart to just BE in that environment. To see things that were designed with an aesthetic that she appreciates. To touch fabrics you don't find at Target or Kohl's, and to peer into designs that are inspired by something bigger than things close to home. To be inspired by what can be done when you have a vision.
We were there for an hour and a half, folks. An hour and a half in a tiny store, and she was not bored for a second. She was awed, and she was thrilled, and she was just quietly enthralled. I followed her around, letting her explain everything to me.
"Mom, feel this bead pattern, now feel this one. See how they feel different?" (For the record, no. My hands are calloused and I hadn't thawed out from the walk to the store yet. But I listened, and smiled, because she was showing me how she experiences the world.)
"Oh, look how they get different results with different knots. Also, they used knots. That's brilliant."
"Ohhhhh, squeeze this. Just grab it in your hands. Isn't that fantastic?"
"We need to find out where you can get this fabric and make one of these."
"Did you touch that plate? You should. It's amazing."
She comes to a dead stop. "Sniff, right here. Do you smell that? What is that?" So we sniffed around and couldn't find the source. We asked an employee to help us find it. She couldn't, either. We have no idea what we were smelling, but it was Stop You In Your Tracks lovely.
Then, we headed to Justice, where she got what I can only describe as her Tween Uniform.
It's adorable. Blessedly, they have a lot of decent, cute stuff this year. It's not an Anthropologie wardrobe, but it works. The ladies who work there were so kind and fun. They made the visit enjoyable. She got a water bottle that the boys won't steal and lose. She got some leggings and some t-shirts. We laughed and poked around. It was a very different vibe, but just as fun.
And now, she is 12. Gosh.
I haven't said it in a while, because (obviously) they aren't babies anymore, but still ...
Kiss those babies!
~ Dy
Friday, January 19
And in other news ...
I want to share cute selfies, but they don't exist in my world. My lazy eyelid is getting lazier by the minute (I swear it tried to sneak a bon bon and watch soap operas the other day), and if this keeps up, I'm going to be a walking Picasso piece in about five years. However, ignore that, and I love the picture for several reasons, and those are worth sharing. One, that shirt. I love that shirt.
When the whole cancer thing came up, I had the best cadre of friends to lend support. Some of them were gentle and sincere and somber. These are the people who remind you not to say s**** it and go out in a blaze of tequila-infused glory, but to stay the steady course. God, in His infinite wisdom, gave me several of those. Good call, Lord. I am so thankful for them. Some of them listened. Some of them helped. Some of them sent me inappropriate memes and jokes (both because laughter is the best medicine, and because my tribe is mainly comprised of those who survive through macabre humor), and got me a theme song and a t-shirt! If you need a theme song and don't have one (and you aren't too concerned about having an appropriate theme song, or are, perhaps, just a sucker for Hugh Laurie doing accents), may I suggest this one, by the incomparable Fry and Laurie. Make someone a shirt. It's unique and wonderful and totally worth taking the time to do. The shirt says on the front, "I'm singin' the song, Orrin!" and on the back, it says, "Kickin' Ass". Pick the sayings or phrases that mean something to the person you're supporting. They'll appreciate it for ages. I can't wear this shirt and not smile. Or feel like a big, goofy badass. Truly. It's too big for me now (hallelujah!) but I'm keeping it.
Two, hair. My hair is growing back, and even though my diffuser suffered a mysterious and violent heat-related death a couple weeks ago (so I'm so frizzy most days) (also, it's not that mysterious - I suspect children), I am still thankful to have hair again. I loved having it short -- it gave me a sense of my own strength and reminded me that we're not our outward decorations -- both good lessons. But the regrowing process is also healing and cathartic.
Three, that is a body that is still cancer free. I'm on the books as two years clear, now (which I don't totally get, because it wasn't until my Spring '16 scan that everything was gone-gone, but whatever, I'll take it). The only labs that aren't gorgeous are the ones the Rituxan knocked askew, and Dr. M says those take YEARS (yes, you can hear him speak in all caps when he says it) to recover.
I've still got a monster kidney stone (unrelated, but it goes on the to do list), and I've still got to get the port removed. Probably ought to get on that last bit before I decide to just do it, myself. (I kid. Z, if you're reading this, I'm kidding! Honest!)
And so, that's a load off. There's always increasing static in your head as you near a scan date. It just ramps up, and up, until you think of running to Mexico, or Portugal, or India to see if you can get away from it. But you can't, and so you don't. The only way through the noise is through the process. But good heck, that waiting time is so tense. I'm glad it's over for a while, and anxious to put all that mental wiggle room back to wandering around in circles trying to remember what I was doing.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
When the whole cancer thing came up, I had the best cadre of friends to lend support. Some of them were gentle and sincere and somber. These are the people who remind you not to say s**** it and go out in a blaze of tequila-infused glory, but to stay the steady course. God, in His infinite wisdom, gave me several of those. Good call, Lord. I am so thankful for them. Some of them listened. Some of them helped. Some of them sent me inappropriate memes and jokes (both because laughter is the best medicine, and because my tribe is mainly comprised of those who survive through macabre humor), and got me a theme song and a t-shirt! If you need a theme song and don't have one (and you aren't too concerned about having an appropriate theme song, or are, perhaps, just a sucker for Hugh Laurie doing accents), may I suggest this one, by the incomparable Fry and Laurie. Make someone a shirt. It's unique and wonderful and totally worth taking the time to do. The shirt says on the front, "I'm singin' the song, Orrin!" and on the back, it says, "Kickin' Ass". Pick the sayings or phrases that mean something to the person you're supporting. They'll appreciate it for ages. I can't wear this shirt and not smile. Or feel like a big, goofy badass. Truly. It's too big for me now (hallelujah!) but I'm keeping it.
Two, hair. My hair is growing back, and even though my diffuser suffered a mysterious and violent heat-related death a couple weeks ago (so I'm so frizzy most days) (also, it's not that mysterious - I suspect children), I am still thankful to have hair again. I loved having it short -- it gave me a sense of my own strength and reminded me that we're not our outward decorations -- both good lessons. But the regrowing process is also healing and cathartic.
Three, that is a body that is still cancer free. I'm on the books as two years clear, now (which I don't totally get, because it wasn't until my Spring '16 scan that everything was gone-gone, but whatever, I'll take it). The only labs that aren't gorgeous are the ones the Rituxan knocked askew, and Dr. M says those take YEARS (yes, you can hear him speak in all caps when he says it) to recover.
I've still got a monster kidney stone (unrelated, but it goes on the to do list), and I've still got to get the port removed. Probably ought to get on that last bit before I decide to just do it, myself. (I kid. Z, if you're reading this, I'm kidding! Honest!)
And so, that's a load off. There's always increasing static in your head as you near a scan date. It just ramps up, and up, until you think of running to Mexico, or Portugal, or India to see if you can get away from it. But you can't, and so you don't. The only way through the noise is through the process. But good heck, that waiting time is so tense. I'm glad it's over for a while, and anxious to put all that mental wiggle room back to wandering around in circles trying to remember what I was doing.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Monday, January 15
Birthday Ideas
I've accidentally published this post twice without meaning to because the pads of my hands keep bumping the little track pad on my laptop, tabbing me all over the place, one spot of which seems to be the Publish button. I need a little pad protector to put on it so that I can type without having to worry about my fat hands engaging that pad. (James would say I need to install Linux, which has a two-second delay before the thing activates, or something like that. I am almost there ...)
Anyway, with Em's birthday coming up, I started pestering her for ideas back in August. Because that's how you have to do with the gentle thinkers. You can't just hit them up at Costco the day of and say, "What do you want to do today? Sky's the limit!" They freeze, and you end up buying them an .89 bladder buster and a 30-roll pack of paper towels. I learned this the hard way.
After much mulling and thinking (seriously - it was January before she got back to me on most of this), she decided she'd like to get her ears pierced, get a manicure (she's hoping this will help her not bite her nails), go to lunch with the boys, and redo her room.
So, we started putting a plan in action. She got her ears pierced this weekend.
I've no clue on the manicure, and haven't had the bandwidth to track that down, but I'll do that today. Lunch with the boys will be at the 88. That's where they eat. It's what they do. It's their thing. It's also the only place in town you can get spicy squid, which is Very Important to Jase. (And? All this time, I had no idea they had a website. That's so cool!)
Her room is functional, but it's a mash-up of Stuff Her Brothers Didn't Want, Stuff She's Duct Taped or Sewn, and then things that usually began with, "Oh, crap, you probably need sheets (shelves, hangers, etc.), don't you?" So, it's functional, but other than the constant craft debris littering the floor, you'd never guess anyone lived there on purpose. She wanted to fix that.
She's been going through it, fixing up what she can with what we had on hand (this isn't as sad as it sounds - we have a lot on hand) and making a list of what she'll need. She's been making little changes, such as snagging a mint green sheet from the linen closet to go with her pink bedding, hanging lights above the window shades, adding pastels here and there, hanging drawings on the walls.
She asked if we can paint her bookshelf white with pink, yellow and blue distressed spots. (I said yes before I realized we were actually going to have Winter this year. We have to paint in the garage or outside, so she may be able to do that for Easter. Or Memorial Day. It's not happening on her actual birthday, though.)
Last week, she asked if she could "do something about that sad brown lamp shade". Of course. Good thing she'd asked for "virtually unlimited duct tape" and "gel pens of my very own" for Christmas! It's the gift that keeps on giving.
I only recently realized that what she really asked for for her birthday was to be left alone to craft. LOL! Clever girl. So that's what we shall do for her birthday - give her glue and stay out of the way. It's how she knows she's loved.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Anyway, with Em's birthday coming up, I started pestering her for ideas back in August. Because that's how you have to do with the gentle thinkers. You can't just hit them up at Costco the day of and say, "What do you want to do today? Sky's the limit!" They freeze, and you end up buying them an .89 bladder buster and a 30-roll pack of paper towels. I learned this the hard way.
After much mulling and thinking (seriously - it was January before she got back to me on most of this), she decided she'd like to get her ears pierced, get a manicure (she's hoping this will help her not bite her nails), go to lunch with the boys, and redo her room.
So, we started putting a plan in action. She got her ears pierced this weekend.
I've no clue on the manicure, and haven't had the bandwidth to track that down, but I'll do that today. Lunch with the boys will be at the 88. That's where they eat. It's what they do. It's their thing. It's also the only place in town you can get spicy squid, which is Very Important to Jase. (And? All this time, I had no idea they had a website. That's so cool!)
Her room is functional, but it's a mash-up of Stuff Her Brothers Didn't Want, Stuff She's Duct Taped or Sewn, and then things that usually began with, "Oh, crap, you probably need sheets (shelves, hangers, etc.), don't you?" So, it's functional, but other than the constant craft debris littering the floor, you'd never guess anyone lived there on purpose. She wanted to fix that.
She's been going through it, fixing up what she can with what we had on hand (this isn't as sad as it sounds - we have a lot on hand) and making a list of what she'll need. She's been making little changes, such as snagging a mint green sheet from the linen closet to go with her pink bedding, hanging lights above the window shades, adding pastels here and there, hanging drawings on the walls.
She asked if we can paint her bookshelf white with pink, yellow and blue distressed spots. (I said yes before I realized we were actually going to have Winter this year. We have to paint in the garage or outside, so she may be able to do that for Easter. Or Memorial Day. It's not happening on her actual birthday, though.)
Last week, she asked if she could "do something about that sad brown lamp shade". Of course. Good thing she'd asked for "virtually unlimited duct tape" and "gel pens of my very own" for Christmas! It's the gift that keeps on giving.
I only recently realized that what she really asked for for her birthday was to be left alone to craft. LOL! Clever girl. So that's what we shall do for her birthday - give her glue and stay out of the way. It's how she knows she's loved.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, January 13
You Beautiful People!
This week has been so encouraging.
A friend is applying for a position that would be practically perfect - both for her, and for the organization. I'm so excited and hopeful for her!
The boys have gushed and gushed about their classes and instructors. I'm so appreciative that they talk to me.
One of the boys has demonstrated that he can, in fact, get his shizzle done when a ride is on the line. I'm, um, so glad he can catch on!
A friend has been on fire lately with thoughtful things and being her typical loving, encouraging self.
People all over the place are helping each other out, sharing what they have, doing good things to skew their worlds for the better. That's very encouraging.
Z is making plow discs in his spare time. I love that he's using his creative energies!
We got snow! It was a lame snow, but it was snow. Didn't stick and the roads are clear, so that's like getting a double bonus of appreciation.
What's been encouraging in your world this week?
Be encouraged (or encouraging)!
~ Dy
A friend is applying for a position that would be practically perfect - both for her, and for the organization. I'm so excited and hopeful for her!
The boys have gushed and gushed about their classes and instructors. I'm so appreciative that they talk to me.
One of the boys has demonstrated that he can, in fact, get his shizzle done when a ride is on the line. I'm, um, so glad he can catch on!
A friend has been on fire lately with thoughtful things and being her typical loving, encouraging self.
People all over the place are helping each other out, sharing what they have, doing good things to skew their worlds for the better. That's very encouraging.
Z is making plow discs in his spare time. I love that he's using his creative energies!
We got snow! It was a lame snow, but it was snow. Didn't stick and the roads are clear, so that's like getting a double bonus of appreciation.
What's been encouraging in your world this week?
Be encouraged (or encouraging)!
~ Dy
Friday, January 12
The nice thing about getting old ...
... Is that I can finally get my test results same day as the test. Until then, however, I have to wait a week to hear how it went. Nothing big, just the routine PET scan. If this one's clear, I don't have to go back for two years! If it's not clear, I'll have to take a deep breath and just try again. Either way, we won't know until next week.
Fortunately, the rest of the day was busy enough that I didn't have time to dwell on it.
My favorite part of the day, though, was coming home to find James and Jacob playing Mario Kart together, absolutely howling with laughter. What a fantastic greeting!
It's super late, now, and I'm exhausted-but-wired.
I think I'll take a book and see if I can fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. It's my favorite way to wrap up a day!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Fortunately, the rest of the day was busy enough that I didn't have time to dwell on it.
My favorite part of the day, though, was coming home to find James and Jacob playing Mario Kart together, absolutely howling with laughter. What a fantastic greeting!
It's super late, now, and I'm exhausted-but-wired.
I think I'll take a book and see if I can fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. It's my favorite way to wrap up a day!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Thursday, January 11
Self Care Through the Ages
I kind of miss childhood, when you could go for a week accumulating the dirt and grime of childhood adventures and still go out in public. (This might be why I enjoy backpacking so much.) Believing with all the faith in the world that playing in the creek totally counted as having bathed, and since your friends were just upstream, catching crawdads, they didn't mind. Or notice.
Mmm. Gross. But yeah.
Still, there you have it. Childhood. Adults were tasked with pointing out when it was time for a bath, and that was fine. That was plenty. You ate what someone else prepared. You didn't really have to think about self care much, if at all.
There are other seasons in life that are reflected in various self-care routines:
Adolescence - the first time your body just up and starts doing weird things on its own, and the frantic scramble to get a grip on that before everything mutates beyond recognition.
Young Adulthood - general awareness that nutrition ought to be a thing, but there's booze. And resilience. So a lot of self care at this point goes into recovery, looking good, and sucking it up.
Marriage - sometimes this is a good stage - there's not only bathing, but some thought goes into meals and routines. It's like having a clue. I know I didn't have a strong clue, and I wasn't good at most of it, but at least there was an attempt.
New Motherhood, Mother-of-Toddlers - these last two being very distinct stages identified mainly by the type of food that's stuck to your shirt and speed with which loud sounds will snap you out of a dead sleep. That was a crazy time. A friend is watching a little one this week and she posted from the bathroom, where she was trying pee in peace. It was hilarious and precious, but I got tired just remembering those days. I let my kids stay up late and eat candy as a thank you for not still being two years old. Because dang. It's a miracle everyone got through that without too many scars or staph or who knows what.
Then there's your 30's. Possibly the first time many of us can take a breath and really think about how we care for ourselves since we last got a grip on the acne and hormones of adolescence ... also the first time we're horrified to realize acne is still a thing past adolescence ... But at this point, you're aware that you need to nourish your body, your soul, your mind. There's a lot to do to really take care of one's self. But it's doable. It's pretty cool.
You'd think by the 40's and 50's, we'd have a routine down pat and not have anything left to figure out. But, no. The body, she is a'changing, and will continue to just up and do weird things on its own. So our care often needs to change with it. But how much do we really think about it?
If you're like me, perhaps you think about it, make a kick butt list of Things You Can Do to Improve Your Situation, and then make another cup of coffee and go back to work doing Something Else, entirely. I've got a great list for 2018 (and no coffee this morning, because PET scan). But if you need some encouragement and practical suggestions, go read Melissa's latest post on When Life Gets Off Track. She gets it. And she knows what she's doing.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Mmm. Gross. But yeah.
Still, there you have it. Childhood. Adults were tasked with pointing out when it was time for a bath, and that was fine. That was plenty. You ate what someone else prepared. You didn't really have to think about self care much, if at all.
There are other seasons in life that are reflected in various self-care routines:
Adolescence - the first time your body just up and starts doing weird things on its own, and the frantic scramble to get a grip on that before everything mutates beyond recognition.
Young Adulthood - general awareness that nutrition ought to be a thing, but there's booze. And resilience. So a lot of self care at this point goes into recovery, looking good, and sucking it up.
Marriage - sometimes this is a good stage - there's not only bathing, but some thought goes into meals and routines. It's like having a clue. I know I didn't have a strong clue, and I wasn't good at most of it, but at least there was an attempt.
New Motherhood, Mother-of-Toddlers - these last two being very distinct stages identified mainly by the type of food that's stuck to your shirt and speed with which loud sounds will snap you out of a dead sleep. That was a crazy time. A friend is watching a little one this week and she posted from the bathroom, where she was trying pee in peace. It was hilarious and precious, but I got tired just remembering those days. I let my kids stay up late and eat candy as a thank you for not still being two years old. Because dang. It's a miracle everyone got through that without too many scars or staph or who knows what.
Then there's your 30's. Possibly the first time many of us can take a breath and really think about how we care for ourselves since we last got a grip on the acne and hormones of adolescence ... also the first time we're horrified to realize acne is still a thing past adolescence ... But at this point, you're aware that you need to nourish your body, your soul, your mind. There's a lot to do to really take care of one's self. But it's doable. It's pretty cool.
You'd think by the 40's and 50's, we'd have a routine down pat and not have anything left to figure out. But, no. The body, she is a'changing, and will continue to just up and do weird things on its own. So our care often needs to change with it. But how much do we really think about it?
If you're like me, perhaps you think about it, make a kick butt list of Things You Can Do to Improve Your Situation, and then make another cup of coffee and go back to work doing Something Else, entirely. I've got a great list for 2018 (and no coffee this morning, because PET scan). But if you need some encouragement and practical suggestions, go read Melissa's latest post on When Life Gets Off Track. She gets it. And she knows what she's doing.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Wednesday, January 10
New Terms, New Plans
Sometimes, these kids are so my kids. Jacob got on it over Christmas break and did all the school work he didn't get done during the fall. This included reading Aeschylus' trilogy, and getting through two of the three Oedipus plays. He got half way through Antigone, but didn't wrap it up before ballet started back up (so that may not be finished until Easter, now). He even pulled off some great note taking and good discussion. I do get it, and I empathize. But there's a reason I don't have a degree yet. (Aside from the whole, "Oh! I know! Let's have children!" thing.) Now, though, if he could only do that, spread out over the term, I could probably relax and breathe a little. When you're in college, you don't get to complete your work and turn it in after finals week ... Maybe I should have James take him out for coffee and a little brotherly Come to Jesus about timeliness?
Meanwhile, everyone's new semesters have begun!
John's back at it, and this is going to be a pivotal term for him. In order to qualify for the Paramedic program that starts in the Summer term, he's got to nail this one with a good score, even from the Russian judge. Not just doing what he needs to do to pass the National Registry exam in June, but he's got to pass this Bio 201 class. He had to get a waiver from the Dean and the Dual Enrollment coordinator to take it while still in high school, and he had to promise the Dean that he's not going to try to hold down a job while juggling clinicals and this course. So. No pressure, there. Go get it, kiddo! You can do this!
I hate having so much on the line for a 17yo, but he's braced for it and looking forward to it. It seems ... dumb to discourage a young person from taking on a challenge he's looking forward to, so I'm in Smile-Nod-and-Feed mode. I think he can do it. And if it doesn't work, he'll be better off for the effort and we'll make a Plan B. This is how life works, right? The key is to keep moving, keep learning, and not give up.
James came in the other day and announced he'd added a macroeconomics class to his schedule for the Spring. "It sounded fun." He and I have very different ideas about what a fun semester looks like. But again, he's doing what he loves and braced for the challenge. He wants to graduate as quickly as possible so he can get hired on full time where he is. He's happy, productive, and headed in a good direction. I can't complain. I can get a little queasy, but I can't actually complain.
Now, to convince Jacob to actually do some work between now and Cinderella ... right? Wish me luck!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Meanwhile, everyone's new semesters have begun!
John's back at it, and this is going to be a pivotal term for him. In order to qualify for the Paramedic program that starts in the Summer term, he's got to nail this one with a good score, even from the Russian judge. Not just doing what he needs to do to pass the National Registry exam in June, but he's got to pass this Bio 201 class. He had to get a waiver from the Dean and the Dual Enrollment coordinator to take it while still in high school, and he had to promise the Dean that he's not going to try to hold down a job while juggling clinicals and this course. So. No pressure, there. Go get it, kiddo! You can do this!
I hate having so much on the line for a 17yo, but he's braced for it and looking forward to it. It seems ... dumb to discourage a young person from taking on a challenge he's looking forward to, so I'm in Smile-Nod-and-Feed mode. I think he can do it. And if it doesn't work, he'll be better off for the effort and we'll make a Plan B. This is how life works, right? The key is to keep moving, keep learning, and not give up.
James came in the other day and announced he'd added a macroeconomics class to his schedule for the Spring. "It sounded fun." He and I have very different ideas about what a fun semester looks like. But again, he's doing what he loves and braced for the challenge. He wants to graduate as quickly as possible so he can get hired on full time where he is. He's happy, productive, and headed in a good direction. I can't complain. I can get a little queasy, but I can't actually complain.
Now, to convince Jacob to actually do some work between now and Cinderella ... right? Wish me luck!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Tuesday, January 9
Buddy the Dog, Juvenile Offender
Well, he's not really a juvenile; he's eight. But it's like having an obnoxious, rebellious Eddie Haskell in the house, lately.
He actually isn't adjusting to city life very well, at all. I'm not sure what's up with him. He digs being more of an indoor dog, but he just loves to get out of the fence. The maintenance guys haven't found a way to secure it that he can't undo. (We'll keep trying, though.) I'd love for him to be able to have more free time outside, but as of right now, he can't be out there unsupervised, at all. When we let him out to relieve himself, he'll do his thing, then head straight for the fence line. He'll glance back and if he sees one of us watching, he'll sit. Not ready to come in, and he doesn't want to play. He just wants to sit there, looking innocent. You can stand there and watch him for half an hour and he'll not move, just sit and keep glancing back at you. We've then moved to observe from a spot he doesn't know we're at, and the moment he sees you've left your observation spot, he trots straight to the fence to get out. If you call him, even with the most innocent tone, "Hey, Bud, what'cha doing?" He scrambles like mad to go back to a neutral spot with his head down, again trying to look innocent.
He's also turned into a total trash panda in the house, even when there's no food stuffs. He's never gotten into the trash before. He's started hoarking food from the table (again, never been a thing in his life), and I caught him up on the counter in the kitchen the other morning. On the counter! It's like having a cat. A 65-pound cat. Nobody wants a 65-pound cat! We've gotten much better about securing all temptations (along the same lines of setting them up to succeed), but with six of us here (three of us being fairly young, still), something occasionally falls through the cracks. He pounces on those opportunities like an entrepreneur at a seminar. We can't even keep the candy bowl on the coffee table anymore (something we've had for his entire life, and he's never once even stuck his nose in it). I got up one morning last week to find he'd sampled all the Lik-em-aid packets in the bowl. Blue powder all over the carpet!
He surprised us with a new trick yesterday. Aunt B and Aunt Sally arrived and came for supper, so we got to visit for a bit. Buddy got to visit with Toby and CW (Aunt B's pups), which he loved, but then, out of nowhere, he decided he needed to go ahead and mark John (or rather, John's things) as HIS, just in case the interlopers got any bright ideas. So he had to spend the rest of the visit outside (and, of course, he immediately got out and came around to the front porch to watch through the living room window the entire visit). Not so much fun. This is not something he's ever done before. We've had dogs (male and female, spayed/neutered and intact) come and stay for hours, days, even weeks on end, and that hasn't been an issue, ever. Why now? I don't know.
Anyway, we've had him checked at the vet and he's healthy. He's eating fine. He stays hydrated, but doesn't appear to have excessive thirst. All his physical traits are rock solid and healthy. He has no interest in chew toys or balls or other things of that sort. He's definitely not bored. We spend a ton of time with him - both play and training.
He does listen much better, in general. Em can even walk him on a slack lead now, which is fantastic. She said if she needs to get something out of her satchel or take a drink of water, she can lay the lead across his back and he just maintains the same distance while she tends to whatever she needs. Then she can take the lead back up when she's done. (Jase has not had the same experience yet. Buddy mostly walks him. But that's not new.) The toy poodles up the road terrify him, but the neighbor's dogs don't phase him. He loves to visit the housing office, and he's not aggressive toward anyone or any thing.
He just waits until he thinks nobody is looking to get into trouble. He also knows pretty straight up when he's not doing the right thing, and he'll backpedal just as quickly as he can if he hears you coming. Basically, he's developing some low-level juvenile offender tendencies and we have no idea what to do about it.
I guess, in the big picture of things, if someone in my house had to become a bit of an obnoxious vandal, I'm glad it's the dog and not one of the kids. There is that. Have you ever had that happen? Any insights, or things we might look for that we haven't thought of?
Be encouraged!
Dy
He actually isn't adjusting to city life very well, at all. I'm not sure what's up with him. He digs being more of an indoor dog, but he just loves to get out of the fence. The maintenance guys haven't found a way to secure it that he can't undo. (We'll keep trying, though.) I'd love for him to be able to have more free time outside, but as of right now, he can't be out there unsupervised, at all. When we let him out to relieve himself, he'll do his thing, then head straight for the fence line. He'll glance back and if he sees one of us watching, he'll sit. Not ready to come in, and he doesn't want to play. He just wants to sit there, looking innocent. You can stand there and watch him for half an hour and he'll not move, just sit and keep glancing back at you. We've then moved to observe from a spot he doesn't know we're at, and the moment he sees you've left your observation spot, he trots straight to the fence to get out. If you call him, even with the most innocent tone, "Hey, Bud, what'cha doing?" He scrambles like mad to go back to a neutral spot with his head down, again trying to look innocent.
He's also turned into a total trash panda in the house, even when there's no food stuffs. He's never gotten into the trash before. He's started hoarking food from the table (again, never been a thing in his life), and I caught him up on the counter in the kitchen the other morning. On the counter! It's like having a cat. A 65-pound cat. Nobody wants a 65-pound cat! We've gotten much better about securing all temptations (along the same lines of setting them up to succeed), but with six of us here (three of us being fairly young, still), something occasionally falls through the cracks. He pounces on those opportunities like an entrepreneur at a seminar. We can't even keep the candy bowl on the coffee table anymore (something we've had for his entire life, and he's never once even stuck his nose in it). I got up one morning last week to find he'd sampled all the Lik-em-aid packets in the bowl. Blue powder all over the carpet!
He surprised us with a new trick yesterday. Aunt B and Aunt Sally arrived and came for supper, so we got to visit for a bit. Buddy got to visit with Toby and CW (Aunt B's pups), which he loved, but then, out of nowhere, he decided he needed to go ahead and mark John (or rather, John's things) as HIS, just in case the interlopers got any bright ideas. So he had to spend the rest of the visit outside (and, of course, he immediately got out and came around to the front porch to watch through the living room window the entire visit). Not so much fun. This is not something he's ever done before. We've had dogs (male and female, spayed/neutered and intact) come and stay for hours, days, even weeks on end, and that hasn't been an issue, ever. Why now? I don't know.
He does listen much better, in general. Em can even walk him on a slack lead now, which is fantastic. She said if she needs to get something out of her satchel or take a drink of water, she can lay the lead across his back and he just maintains the same distance while she tends to whatever she needs. Then she can take the lead back up when she's done. (Jase has not had the same experience yet. Buddy mostly walks him. But that's not new.) The toy poodles up the road terrify him, but the neighbor's dogs don't phase him. He loves to visit the housing office, and he's not aggressive toward anyone or any thing.
He just waits until he thinks nobody is looking to get into trouble. He also knows pretty straight up when he's not doing the right thing, and he'll backpedal just as quickly as he can if he hears you coming. Basically, he's developing some low-level juvenile offender tendencies and we have no idea what to do about it.
I guess, in the big picture of things, if someone in my house had to become a bit of an obnoxious vandal, I'm glad it's the dog and not one of the kids. There is that. Have you ever had that happen? Any insights, or things we might look for that we haven't thought of?
Be encouraged!
Dy
Monday, January 8
Five Minutes Until I Go
James got up early to air up the tire in the Highlander for me before I leave this morning. That is such a gift! I know he probably doesn't think so, but it is. (The tire's got a slow leak that's just this side of the tread, so they can't legally plug it. *Cue grouchy old lady noises, "In my day..." *waves cane*) But anyway, it's on the payday list of Stuff That Needs Attending - which is not nearly as much fun to make as, say Grocery Lists, or Birthday Lists, but it's very important.)
**************************************************************************
And then, I had to go. Spent too much time sipping coffee instead of typing, I guess.
That was Friday morning? Saturday? I don't remember. But now it's Sunday night. The week is over. We made it. I am so stinking proud of these kids. They're rolling into the Spring semester with gusto, and they've made this single parenting gig a relative cake walk. It's still about zero fun, but at least it's not a logistical nightmare, as well.
The house is freakishly quiet, and cold. I should go to bed, but I don't want to climb into a chilly bed. Should have asked for a hot water bottle or an electric blanket for Christmas.
Between the move and the job, The Nutcracker and the flu, we never made it to the beach house to see The Aunts. That made me inordinately sad. Then, Aunt B texted to say they were on their way home and planned to swing by! Oh, I'm so glad! We'll made some delicious food, and crack open some delicious wine, and visit. I can't wait to hear about their winter beach adventures!
On that note, though, I have got to get to bed. Sundays are long sometimes. I should sleep well.
Be encouraged!
Dy
**************************************************************************
And then, I had to go. Spent too much time sipping coffee instead of typing, I guess.
That was Friday morning? Saturday? I don't remember. But now it's Sunday night. The week is over. We made it. I am so stinking proud of these kids. They're rolling into the Spring semester with gusto, and they've made this single parenting gig a relative cake walk. It's still about zero fun, but at least it's not a logistical nightmare, as well.
The house is freakishly quiet, and cold. I should go to bed, but I don't want to climb into a chilly bed. Should have asked for a hot water bottle or an electric blanket for Christmas.
Between the move and the job, The Nutcracker and the flu, we never made it to the beach house to see The Aunts. That made me inordinately sad. Then, Aunt B texted to say they were on their way home and planned to swing by! Oh, I'm so glad! We'll made some delicious food, and crack open some delicious wine, and visit. I can't wait to hear about their winter beach adventures!
On that note, though, I have got to get to bed. Sundays are long sometimes. I should sleep well.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Friday, January 5
Some days start earlier than others ...
I grabbed a transcription file yesterday - a nice, long, difficult one, since I didn't have any outside work coming up, and I figured I could work on it at my leisure throughout the day and really make sure it was tight. I love that feeling, when you know you've done a job spot on. It wasn't due until 11 today, so that was perfect.
Then I got a text last night - can I fill in a shift for someone who can't make it in the morning? Of course I can. (This is a really wonderful position, working with a truly delightful lady, and I am so thankful for having these beautiful people in our life.)
About an hour later, it hit me. I just bumped my transcription deadline up by four hours because I'd have to leave the house by 7:00. 😨 Well, that wasn't particularly brilliant. What can I say? I'm new at this.
So after dinner, I tasked the children with putting the living space to rights before they turned in, and I slipped off to bed super early. I was up and wide awake this morning at 2:30, and was able to finish the job and submit it in time to leave for work!
I need a GIF for that. It's definitely more Mr. Magoo than Wonder Woman, but you know, mostly it's about appreciation for having opportunities and being able to find ways to make things work, honor our commitments, and live a rich, healthy life.
What absolutely made my day, though, was getting texts from the older boys. "Do you mind if I take the Littles to Skate Day?" and "I'm taking Jacob to the movie." Oh! Well done, boys! Wow.
Got home to find John studying, and the house picked up. That's like Second Christmas for a mom!
So, to celebrate, we're sitting very still and not moving for a little bit. Just taking stock of the good things in the day ... It got above freezing for a few minutes today. That was exciting. (It's about to dip way back down, though, so the faucets are staying on.) ... Z is doing well - we talked this morning and he described the Sandias in the morning sunlight - I can't wait to see that again! ... School is back up and running, ballet, theater, Bible study ... There's coffee. (It's a little thing, but it's a thing, and I appreciate it.)
Not every season is going to be easy. Sometimes the seasons that you think will do you in turn out to be the easiest of the challenging parts of your life, and you'd love to go back and do them again with the knowledge you have currently. (It's like doing 1st grade math when you're in 6th grade, and you laugh and laugh that you'd been so frustrated when you first learned it. If you do find yourself feeling like that, wishing for the exhaustion of toddlers, or the "busyness" of playdates and field trips to the zoo, give yourself some kudos for having come far enough to do that. That's good stuff. You've got this.) And then, take stock of the good things. They're there in plenty.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Then I got a text last night - can I fill in a shift for someone who can't make it in the morning? Of course I can. (This is a really wonderful position, working with a truly delightful lady, and I am so thankful for having these beautiful people in our life.)
About an hour later, it hit me. I just bumped my transcription deadline up by four hours because I'd have to leave the house by 7:00. 😨 Well, that wasn't particularly brilliant. What can I say? I'm new at this.
So after dinner, I tasked the children with putting the living space to rights before they turned in, and I slipped off to bed super early. I was up and wide awake this morning at 2:30, and was able to finish the job and submit it in time to leave for work!
I need a GIF for that. It's definitely more Mr. Magoo than Wonder Woman, but you know, mostly it's about appreciation for having opportunities and being able to find ways to make things work, honor our commitments, and live a rich, healthy life.
What absolutely made my day, though, was getting texts from the older boys. "Do you mind if I take the Littles to Skate Day?" and "I'm taking Jacob to the movie." Oh! Well done, boys! Wow.
Got home to find John studying, and the house picked up. That's like Second Christmas for a mom!
So, to celebrate, we're sitting very still and not moving for a little bit. Just taking stock of the good things in the day ... It got above freezing for a few minutes today. That was exciting. (It's about to dip way back down, though, so the faucets are staying on.) ... Z is doing well - we talked this morning and he described the Sandias in the morning sunlight - I can't wait to see that again! ... School is back up and running, ballet, theater, Bible study ... There's coffee. (It's a little thing, but it's a thing, and I appreciate it.)
Not every season is going to be easy. Sometimes the seasons that you think will do you in turn out to be the easiest of the challenging parts of your life, and you'd love to go back and do them again with the knowledge you have currently. (It's like doing 1st grade math when you're in 6th grade, and you laugh and laugh that you'd been so frustrated when you first learned it. If you do find yourself feeling like that, wishing for the exhaustion of toddlers, or the "busyness" of playdates and field trips to the zoo, give yourself some kudos for having come far enough to do that. That's good stuff. You've got this.) And then, take stock of the good things. They're there in plenty.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Thursday, January 4
They know me so well!
If you've got your sense of humor, you stand a good chance of keeping your health. I firmly believe this. And so, evidently, do my older children ...
This was one of my favorite gifts this Christmas. Not only because we desperately need magnets that don't fall off if you swing the refrigerator door too enthusiastically, but because it made me laugh. The last seven or eight weeks have been mentally hectic, butt-puckeringly scary, and in general, really, really hard.
Not too hard for God, which is great, but definitely too hard for me. And the kids haven't ever actually seen me admit that there's something I'm not sure I can do. But they have now. And they've stepped up. I mean, they're still kids, and when you're a kid, offering to share your coin jar to help with groceries, or volunteering to share your fuzzy blanket seems a lot more satisfying than, say, clearing your spot after dinner, or doing the chores without being prompted, or maybe even just not nattering at your siblings for hours on end so that Mom can work. So, they haven't really felt that my requests were sane, or truly helpful, but they've shrugged and exchanged eye rolling glances, then stepped up and tried to contribute to the sense of overall peace and productivity that we needed in the house. So that's been pretty fantastic.
And no, I have not taken to drinking heavily. But I've joked about it. And John knew just what would make me laugh out loud. I'm so glad he ran with it.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Wednesday, January 3
The Nutcracker
Well, THIS was exciting. A year ago, Jacob sat in the farthest row of the highest balcony at the Von Braun Center and watched, mesmerized, as The Nutcracker played out before us. He leaned forward, spellbound, the entire performance, but particularly watching the men's parts - the Nutcracker Prince, the Rat King, the dolls. He was captivated by the power and strength of the dancers. When he asked if he could do that, we had no idea that this December would find him backstage, preparing for his own parts.
All week, he kept whispering at random, "This is what started it all. And I'm here." He was in a bit of a dream world.
He gave his all to every role. As a Party Teen, he was so exuberant and festive. He was so, so great with the little ones on stage. He was a delight to watch.
As a gypsy, he was beautiful and vibrant. I got to watch from the wings one night when he danced that part, and the look on his face as he landed in the final position ... I will carry that image with me to my grave. I've never seen him look so happy, so at home (and this is a kid who is at home in most any setting, so that's saying something).
As half of the dragon, he was entertaining and delightful.
But most of all, he was kind, considerate, and engaged. He even goofed around with me a little bit!
The atmosphere backstage of a Huntsville Ballet Company production is one of the most professional, courteous, and team-driven endeavors I've ever been fortunate enough to witness. (I got to help, too, which was fabulous. Everyone should help backstage at least once, just to appreciate what goes into making the magic happen when the curtain goes up.) I could not have been more proud of him, or more pleased with where he is. They're a good fit, and I'm thankful for that.
For all the things we wish we could go back and do differently, or do better, I really feel like we've hit the sweet spot in encouraging them to pursue excellence, and to work hard at what they love. It's one thing to dream, but it's another to put your effort and hard work into achieving it. That's huge, and I am so thankful that he's doing just that.
Be encouraged!
Dy
All week, he kept whispering at random, "This is what started it all. And I'm here." He was in a bit of a dream world.
He gave his all to every role. As a Party Teen, he was so exuberant and festive. He was so, so great with the little ones on stage. He was a delight to watch.
As a gypsy, he was beautiful and vibrant. I got to watch from the wings one night when he danced that part, and the look on his face as he landed in the final position ... I will carry that image with me to my grave. I've never seen him look so happy, so at home (and this is a kid who is at home in most any setting, so that's saying something).
As half of the dragon, he was entertaining and delightful.
But most of all, he was kind, considerate, and engaged. He even goofed around with me a little bit!
The atmosphere backstage of a Huntsville Ballet Company production is one of the most professional, courteous, and team-driven endeavors I've ever been fortunate enough to witness. (I got to help, too, which was fabulous. Everyone should help backstage at least once, just to appreciate what goes into making the magic happen when the curtain goes up.) I could not have been more proud of him, or more pleased with where he is. They're a good fit, and I'm thankful for that.
For all the things we wish we could go back and do differently, or do better, I really feel like we've hit the sweet spot in encouraging them to pursue excellence, and to work hard at what they love. It's one thing to dream, but it's another to put your effort and hard work into achieving it. That's huge, and I am so thankful that he's doing just that.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Tuesday, January 2
On Moving. Again.
So, while John and I were basking in the dry, cool mountain air of New Mexico this past July, Z was at home, clearly panicking at the thought of living here forever. Possibly without me. (The fear of me dying is kind of a constant with him. It was always there, but got markedly worse with the cancer. Single parenting for a month rather exacerbated the whole thing. Understandable.)
So he went off plan and applied for a slew of jobs in New Mexico that month. (The deal has always been Colorado, or we stay here.) When I got back into signal range and read the job postings he'd forwarded to me, I started praying ...
"Lord, please not Alamogordo." (I have NOTHING against Alamogordo, for the record. It's a vibrant, neat little town with a strong Classical education community, and a ballet company. It could be a great place to live. But I have always maintained that if he worked in Alamogordo, I wanted to live in High Rolls or Cloudcroft, both of which just wash my mountain-loving soul in cool air and pine trees. I haven't had cool air and pine trees since 2003. But that would put us right back to living in the country and having to drive into town every. single. day. That thought kind of made me cry. Actually, it totally made me queasy.)
That job fell through. Thank you, Lord!
"Lord, Socorro? Really? This needs to be discussed?" (I've never lived in Socorro, and I'm sure we could make it work. NM Tech is there, and it's fantastic. It's not too far from the Bosque. There's a lot to commend it. But, again with the driving to get the kids to the things they do. And there are no mountains there to soothe the process. Sorry, Socorro, but I was actively praying against that one.)
That job fell through.
"Albuquerque? Well, Lord, you know I'd love it. And you know the kids would love it. We both know Z probably isn't going to love it. He might grow to like it ... I don't know. But, if it's gotta happen, then it's gotta happen. Your call." (It's ALWAYS His call. I know this. But he says to ask for what we want, and I'm taking Him at face value on that.)
So, Albuquerque it is.
We all hate to leave our people here. One of my biggest requests is that we have a home large enough that we can be a destination point for loved ones to come and see the West, stay with us, and allow us to repay the generosity and love they've shared with us.
The older boys may stay. James will, for sure. He's surviving college. He loves his job. He loves our church. He seldom gets lost when he's driving. He'll be 20 this year (oh, gosh, HOW?), so it seems there's not much point for him in uprooting to start over again.
John's measuring his options and seeing what he can see. He's 17. This is a good time to do that.
Jacob would gladly move in with someone from the ballet school to stay here, but since that's not an option, we've given him room to be morose, and then encouragement to embrace what he can about it. He plans to come back, perhaps for his Senior Year, to dance here. I'm okay with leaving that on the table. It'll be here before either of us know it, and who knows what he'll want to do then? But in the meantime, having that on the table gives him hope and frees him up to enjoy dancing in New Mexico without feeling like he's being unfaithful to his beloved HBC. I love his loyal, passionate heart.
Em and Jase are basically holding their breath and not making eye contact. They don't know what to expect. They haven't particularly enjoyed all the change and upheaval to date, and it's not what they would choose, but they're still young enough that if I promise them a good adventure, they'll trust that it's a good adventure. (Jase finds this exciting. I should, however, have chosen a different word for Em - an adventure is the last thing she hopes for. Ever. Oops. Still learning with that one!)
And so, our Alabama adventure appears to be drawing to a close. It's something we've known was coming for the last seven years, but truthfully, it came as a surprise. This is such a wonderful place to live, with so much available, and so many wonderful things in life here. It's hard to imagine another place that has so much to love as North Alabama does. Twelve and a half years of living will do that to a person, though. It's good. It's been good.
And the next chapter of our lives will also be good.
Be encouraged!
Dy
So he went off plan and applied for a slew of jobs in New Mexico that month. (The deal has always been Colorado, or we stay here.) When I got back into signal range and read the job postings he'd forwarded to me, I started praying ...
"Lord, please not Alamogordo." (I have NOTHING against Alamogordo, for the record. It's a vibrant, neat little town with a strong Classical education community, and a ballet company. It could be a great place to live. But I have always maintained that if he worked in Alamogordo, I wanted to live in High Rolls or Cloudcroft, both of which just wash my mountain-loving soul in cool air and pine trees. I haven't had cool air and pine trees since 2003. But that would put us right back to living in the country and having to drive into town every. single. day. That thought kind of made me cry. Actually, it totally made me queasy.)
That job fell through. Thank you, Lord!
"Lord, Socorro? Really? This needs to be discussed?" (I've never lived in Socorro, and I'm sure we could make it work. NM Tech is there, and it's fantastic. It's not too far from the Bosque. There's a lot to commend it. But, again with the driving to get the kids to the things they do. And there are no mountains there to soothe the process. Sorry, Socorro, but I was actively praying against that one.)
That job fell through.
"Albuquerque? Well, Lord, you know I'd love it. And you know the kids would love it. We both know Z probably isn't going to love it. He might grow to like it ... I don't know. But, if it's gotta happen, then it's gotta happen. Your call." (It's ALWAYS His call. I know this. But he says to ask for what we want, and I'm taking Him at face value on that.)
So, Albuquerque it is.
We all hate to leave our people here. One of my biggest requests is that we have a home large enough that we can be a destination point for loved ones to come and see the West, stay with us, and allow us to repay the generosity and love they've shared with us.
The older boys may stay. James will, for sure. He's surviving college. He loves his job. He loves our church. He seldom gets lost when he's driving. He'll be 20 this year (oh, gosh, HOW?), so it seems there's not much point for him in uprooting to start over again.
John's measuring his options and seeing what he can see. He's 17. This is a good time to do that.
Jacob would gladly move in with someone from the ballet school to stay here, but since that's not an option, we've given him room to be morose, and then encouragement to embrace what he can about it. He plans to come back, perhaps for his Senior Year, to dance here. I'm okay with leaving that on the table. It'll be here before either of us know it, and who knows what he'll want to do then? But in the meantime, having that on the table gives him hope and frees him up to enjoy dancing in New Mexico without feeling like he's being unfaithful to his beloved HBC. I love his loyal, passionate heart.
Em and Jase are basically holding their breath and not making eye contact. They don't know what to expect. They haven't particularly enjoyed all the change and upheaval to date, and it's not what they would choose, but they're still young enough that if I promise them a good adventure, they'll trust that it's a good adventure. (Jase finds this exciting. I should, however, have chosen a different word for Em - an adventure is the last thing she hopes for. Ever. Oops. Still learning with that one!)
And so, our Alabama adventure appears to be drawing to a close. It's something we've known was coming for the last seven years, but truthfully, it came as a surprise. This is such a wonderful place to live, with so much available, and so many wonderful things in life here. It's hard to imagine another place that has so much to love as North Alabama does. Twelve and a half years of living will do that to a person, though. It's good. It's been good.
And the next chapter of our lives will also be good.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Monday, January 1
So, what do you do with all your extra time?
And I thought I'd be able to write more once we moved! That's so cute!
We're moved in. We're loving life Five Minutes From Everything. It's truly very nice. The boys appreciate the extra study time for school, the extra bits of sleep in the mornings, and the ability to pop out to a movie or coffee with friends, or Bible study without having to pack a full daypack and hydration bladder to make it happen. The Nutcracker performance week, and tech week leading up to it, were smooth and efficient and wonderful.
Personally, I'm loving the ability to call housing if there's mold, or if something breaks, and these delightful men arrive within an hour to fix it. There's no having to put it in the budget, shop around for parts, and then carve out time to make it happen. I really, really love our maintenance team!
That said, Z got a job offer ... Out West. New Mexico. (I'll write about that whole set up at another time.) The offer came in shortly after we'd signed the lease on base. It's a good move, with promotion potential. It puts him closer to family, able to help out more often, and it might even afford him a path to Colorado one day (something that just isn't an option from here). It made sense for him to take it. He expected a start date in the Spring, but they had the day before Thanksgiving (this Thanksgiving) in mind. Uh, no? What? No relocation package, and you want us to move when? Uh-uh. He negotiated to start the second week in December, though, which bought us a little time to finish all the things on the Forever Home. (New carpet, new back deck, replaced the flooring in the kitchen, installed a lovely new exterior door in the master bedroom, and the Holy Grail of my last five years, the beadboard ceiling in the kitchen/living area! It's gorgeous!) Then he left. *poof* He's staying with his brother and sister-in-law, who were so very gracious to open their home to him. The kids and I will follow sometime this Summer.
We couldn't uproot and go right now. James is going to stay behind. He has a wonderful job, and he's survived the first semester of college (he has no humanities this coming semester, so he'll likely knock out a 4.0 on that one). But he was staying at home and commuting - we couldn't shuffle him into the dorms at the last minute. John's pursuing his EMT certification, and we couldn't just yank him out of that. And Jacob is dancing with the Junior Company for the Huntsville Ballet (this is the first step in their pre-professional study track, and he is wholly committed to it). He might just turn into a real, live Gollum if we pulled him out of that and dumped him in an unknown community past the audition dates for anything. So. We're staying until we can extricate ourselves a bit less violently. We want the move to be good, for everyone involved, and that's how we're moving forward. Being separated isn't much fun (less fun for Z, who doesn't have the routines and familiar surroundings to buffer him), but we both acknowledge that a few months out of 22 years together isn't going to break us, or warp us, or damage us. We'll be fine.
Good Times. Or, it will be Good Times. Right now, it's all just a bit surreal. We haven't listed the Forever Home yet, because there's a beautiful, wonderful family that wants it. They've listed their home, and we're all just waiting on their house to sell. If it hasn't sold by Spring, or if they give up, then we've found a realtor and will list it with him. In the meantime, we're floating two and a half homes through the Winter. It will be okay. But they need it. They really do. It's worth the wait. No regrets, there.
And now, we have a routine. We have a plan. We have a little breathing room. Later than we'd anticipated, but it's here. That's good.
Welcome to 2018!
We're moved in. We're loving life Five Minutes From Everything. It's truly very nice. The boys appreciate the extra study time for school, the extra bits of sleep in the mornings, and the ability to pop out to a movie or coffee with friends, or Bible study without having to pack a full daypack and hydration bladder to make it happen. The Nutcracker performance week, and tech week leading up to it, were smooth and efficient and wonderful.
Personally, I'm loving the ability to call housing if there's mold, or if something breaks, and these delightful men arrive within an hour to fix it. There's no having to put it in the budget, shop around for parts, and then carve out time to make it happen. I really, really love our maintenance team!
That said, Z got a job offer ... Out West. New Mexico. (I'll write about that whole set up at another time.) The offer came in shortly after we'd signed the lease on base. It's a good move, with promotion potential. It puts him closer to family, able to help out more often, and it might even afford him a path to Colorado one day (something that just isn't an option from here). It made sense for him to take it. He expected a start date in the Spring, but they had the day before Thanksgiving (this Thanksgiving) in mind. Uh, no? What? No relocation package, and you want us to move when? Uh-uh. He negotiated to start the second week in December, though, which bought us a little time to finish all the things on the Forever Home. (New carpet, new back deck, replaced the flooring in the kitchen, installed a lovely new exterior door in the master bedroom, and the Holy Grail of my last five years, the beadboard ceiling in the kitchen/living area! It's gorgeous!) Then he left. *poof* He's staying with his brother and sister-in-law, who were so very gracious to open their home to him. The kids and I will follow sometime this Summer.
We couldn't uproot and go right now. James is going to stay behind. He has a wonderful job, and he's survived the first semester of college (he has no humanities this coming semester, so he'll likely knock out a 4.0 on that one). But he was staying at home and commuting - we couldn't shuffle him into the dorms at the last minute. John's pursuing his EMT certification, and we couldn't just yank him out of that. And Jacob is dancing with the Junior Company for the Huntsville Ballet (this is the first step in their pre-professional study track, and he is wholly committed to it). He might just turn into a real, live Gollum if we pulled him out of that and dumped him in an unknown community past the audition dates for anything. So. We're staying until we can extricate ourselves a bit less violently. We want the move to be good, for everyone involved, and that's how we're moving forward. Being separated isn't much fun (less fun for Z, who doesn't have the routines and familiar surroundings to buffer him), but we both acknowledge that a few months out of 22 years together isn't going to break us, or warp us, or damage us. We'll be fine.
Good Times. Or, it will be Good Times. Right now, it's all just a bit surreal. We haven't listed the Forever Home yet, because there's a beautiful, wonderful family that wants it. They've listed their home, and we're all just waiting on their house to sell. If it hasn't sold by Spring, or if they give up, then we've found a realtor and will list it with him. In the meantime, we're floating two and a half homes through the Winter. It will be okay. But they need it. They really do. It's worth the wait. No regrets, there.
And now, we have a routine. We have a plan. We have a little breathing room. Later than we'd anticipated, but it's here. That's good.
Welcome to 2018!
Tuesday, October 10
Seven Days
I told you I was like a kid at Christmas!
I'm half planning to load up my bed, a suitcase, a box of bacon and the coffee press, and call it good. If they want anything else, they can come back for it. Oh, and the patio furniture - I do love our patio furniture. That should be plenty, right?
We had a week off from ballet while the school was on fall break. Nearly missed trash day, woke Z up early on a day he didn't have to go to work, and accomplished very little in the way of returning library books that week. Evidently, we can't use a calendar without some kind of external anchor to remind us what day it is. Also, to Jacob's Russian teacher, I apologize. He comes by it honestly.
However, I remembered that I can, in fact, cook quite well when I have the time to do it. So, that's been fun. I'm really looking forward to getting settled and doing more in the kitchen again.
We animal-sat for friends over the long weekend. It was good, and we're glad we were able to help them out, but we are so not cut out for farm life. It probably would have been easier if we didn't live 50 minutes away, and often had to wear the rest of the day whatever we wore to tend the animals. That was kind of gross. Or, if we had any idea what might cause a goat to fall over. That was scary. (The goat is fine, and John rocked the medic training - he devised a carry sling and we let him tell us what to do, so we didn't completely suck at whatever it was we were supposed to be doing.) They'll be back today, and I am so incredibly glad.
Today is John's last day at work. They've been so good to him, and it was a wonderful experience for a first time job. With the move, though, he'd be working to earn the gas money to drive ... to work. Plus, he starts clinicals near the end of this semester, and that will take up a lot of additional time. He picks up another class at the CC on the 21st, as well. He has a plan and he's moving on it. It's neat to stand back and see that play out, see where he wants to go and how he's making it happen.
Today is also the last Harried Tuesday! Hurrah! No more! This time next week, I can drop Jacob at ballet and GO HOME to wait! There shall be scones! (We tweaked a keto bagel recipe and it's like lovely, decadent scones, only with scads of protein and few carbs. So good!)
Be encouraged!
Dy
I'm half planning to load up my bed, a suitcase, a box of bacon and the coffee press, and call it good. If they want anything else, they can come back for it. Oh, and the patio furniture - I do love our patio furniture. That should be plenty, right?
We had a week off from ballet while the school was on fall break. Nearly missed trash day, woke Z up early on a day he didn't have to go to work, and accomplished very little in the way of returning library books that week. Evidently, we can't use a calendar without some kind of external anchor to remind us what day it is. Also, to Jacob's Russian teacher, I apologize. He comes by it honestly.
However, I remembered that I can, in fact, cook quite well when I have the time to do it. So, that's been fun. I'm really looking forward to getting settled and doing more in the kitchen again.
We animal-sat for friends over the long weekend. It was good, and we're glad we were able to help them out, but we are so not cut out for farm life. It probably would have been easier if we didn't live 50 minutes away, and often had to wear the rest of the day whatever we wore to tend the animals. That was kind of gross. Or, if we had any idea what might cause a goat to fall over. That was scary. (The goat is fine, and John rocked the medic training - he devised a carry sling and we let him tell us what to do, so we didn't completely suck at whatever it was we were supposed to be doing.) They'll be back today, and I am so incredibly glad.
Today is John's last day at work. They've been so good to him, and it was a wonderful experience for a first time job. With the move, though, he'd be working to earn the gas money to drive ... to work. Plus, he starts clinicals near the end of this semester, and that will take up a lot of additional time. He picks up another class at the CC on the 21st, as well. He has a plan and he's moving on it. It's neat to stand back and see that play out, see where he wants to go and how he's making it happen.
Today is also the last Harried Tuesday! Hurrah! No more! This time next week, I can drop Jacob at ballet and GO HOME to wait! There shall be scones! (We tweaked a keto bagel recipe and it's like lovely, decadent scones, only with scads of protein and few carbs. So good!)
Be encouraged!
Dy
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