We're going to have to pick up the pace in the kitchen now. Sunny (the name for our new kitchen servant *wink*) is fast. Startlingly fast. Egg whites whip up into "soft peaks" in a matter of seconds - just enough time for each of the cavebabies to oogle the process, and then *poof*, it's time for me to step in and do something... but what? I normally read the recipe over while I'm whipping... where's the recipe? where's the spoon? what's the... ohhhhh, lookit that!
*heh*
This is fun. And the banana bread looks higher and fluffier than it's ever been before.
I *heart* Sunny.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, May 15
Oh, and the pancakes...
I'd mentioned last week that we had that rice and buttermilk thing congealing on the kitchen counter...
It works! It's officially been deemed by even the non-wf folks in the household to be "The Best Pancakes Ever And Can We Eat These Several Times A Week". So, having passed the Flavor Board (ha ha - little wf inside joke, there - board, cardboard, lumber... *ahem* yeah...) Here ya go!
(*edited to add: I got this from someone who got it from somebody else who'd shared it on a forum. Today I heard it's originally from a Sue Gregg cookbook. So. Due credit. The recipe is hers. The comments from the peanut gallery are mine. :-)*)
Brown Rice Pancakes
Before you go to bed, pour into a blender:
1 1/2 C. UNcooked brown rice (yeah, I know, weird)
1 1/2 C. buttermilk (or regular milk with about a Tablespoon of vinegar)
2 Tbsp. oil (veggie, flax, whatever)
1 tsp. vanilla
Blend on HIGH for 3 minutes. Go to bed and try not to fret over ingesting dairy that's been left out all night.
In the morning, add:
1 egg
Blend for 1 minute.
Add:
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp salt
Blend just enough to get it mixed in well. Then cook like you would normal pancakes. (Listen to me - "normal". OK, fine, pour by 1/4 cupfuls onto a hot griddle. Flip them when the top is covered in bubbles, and then they're done when the bottom is browned nicely. There, more specific detail.)
I haven't tried these with the coconut milk, but have to say that coconut milk and a banana thrown in would probably be delicious!
They do work okay with rice milk, as well. (If anybody tries any other substitutions, as always, please leave a comment and share the wisdom you've gained. The wheat-free label works best when y'all don't just have to rely on what we've pulled off, ya know.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
It works! It's officially been deemed by even the non-wf folks in the household to be "The Best Pancakes Ever And Can We Eat These Several Times A Week". So, having passed the Flavor Board (ha ha - little wf inside joke, there - board, cardboard, lumber... *ahem* yeah...) Here ya go!
(*edited to add: I got this from someone who got it from somebody else who'd shared it on a forum. Today I heard it's originally from a Sue Gregg cookbook. So. Due credit. The recipe is hers. The comments from the peanut gallery are mine. :-)*)
Brown Rice Pancakes
Before you go to bed, pour into a blender:
1 1/2 C. UNcooked brown rice (yeah, I know, weird)
1 1/2 C. buttermilk (or regular milk with about a Tablespoon of vinegar)
2 Tbsp. oil (veggie, flax, whatever)
1 tsp. vanilla
Blend on HIGH for 3 minutes. Go to bed and try not to fret over ingesting dairy that's been left out all night.
In the morning, add:
1 egg
Blend for 1 minute.
Add:
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp salt
Blend just enough to get it mixed in well. Then cook like you would normal pancakes. (Listen to me - "normal". OK, fine, pour by 1/4 cupfuls onto a hot griddle. Flip them when the top is covered in bubbles, and then they're done when the bottom is browned nicely. There, more specific detail.)
I haven't tried these with the coconut milk, but have to say that coconut milk and a banana thrown in would probably be delicious!
They do work okay with rice milk, as well. (If anybody tries any other substitutions, as always, please leave a comment and share the wisdom you've gained. The wheat-free label works best when y'all don't just have to rely on what we've pulled off, ya know.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, May 14
Blogging Wounded
I did something bad and painful to my right arm earlier this week, and it hurts to breathe. Typing isn't easier. So, please accept my apologies if I didn't reply to each of the wonderful comments on the bricks, and the paint. I did read them all (reading doesn't hurt much), and your insights and stories were more helpful than I can say. Thank you!
Oh, I think I now know what early man looked like when he discovered the secret to fire. My guys gave me a Sunbeam stand mixer for Mother's Day. We loaded up the bowls, turned it on, and the clan gathered 'round to stare in awe at the technology. I'd have taken pictures, because it looked hilarious, but I was one of those standing around thefire, um, the mixer. We grunted. We oooohhhhh'd. We ahhhhhh'd. The Small Ones poked at it. The Big Ones admonished the Small Ones not to put their fingers in there because it'll snap them in two. Then, when they weren't looking, we Big Ones put our fingers in there, just to see.
It's delightful, and powerful, and wonderful, and did I mention delightful? I know, I know, domestic accessories aren't everybody's cuppa for gift-giving. But this is, for me, more akin to buying ammunition for an avid shooter, or parchment for a die-hard calligrapher. This little baby has just taken an activity I enjoy and engage in regularly (namely, making all this heavy, dense, wheat-free grain into edible foodstuffs), and turned it into less of a career and more of a hobby. I haven't words to describe the joy that brings me.
But you wanna know the best parts? Zorak has fallen in love with the Mixer. We made pizza for Sunday Supper, for the Usual Crowd. Three of the five of them are wheat-free, also, so I made the wf crusts in the mixer and we stood around staring at it while it worked. Then I rinsed the bowls. (Ta-da! All done!) Then Zorak stepped in to make his Famous Pizza Crust... and he could not believe how simple it is to make dough using the stand mixer. He's been singing its praises ever since. It makes me glad to know he doesn't view it as "one of those contraptions the missus has been clamoring for". Not that he'd ever say that, but, well, yeah. Nice to know he likes it, too.
And, as usual, the boys were just delightful. They planned a treasure hunt (for the record, I'd make a lousy treasure hunter - the maps were excellent, but I'm navigationally impaired). They made the entire breakfast, from the coffee to the bacon. They served the meal, and did the most hilarious Serious Waiter impressions I've ever seen. Then they butchered a few songs for my edification, and Emily's. As a matter of fact, the singing went a little long because of her addiction-inspiring squeak-n-squeal of joy. That was fun, and after all was said and done, we got to work on the framing for the screened-in front porch.
OK, I say "we", but what I mean is "Zorak". I took a vicodin and slept on the couch for a few hours. Then I sat on the porch letting him know I wish I could *wince* help *wince*. Yeah, I'm sure that made him feel better as the got the boards cut and fitted and secured into place. He's so good to us.
Happy Belated Mother's Day. I hope your day was just as delightful as ours.
Kiss those babies (and Daddies)!
~Dy
Oh, I think I now know what early man looked like when he discovered the secret to fire. My guys gave me a Sunbeam stand mixer for Mother's Day. We loaded up the bowls, turned it on, and the clan gathered 'round to stare in awe at the technology. I'd have taken pictures, because it looked hilarious, but I was one of those standing around the
It's delightful, and powerful, and wonderful, and did I mention delightful? I know, I know, domestic accessories aren't everybody's cuppa for gift-giving. But this is, for me, more akin to buying ammunition for an avid shooter, or parchment for a die-hard calligrapher. This little baby has just taken an activity I enjoy and engage in regularly (namely, making all this heavy, dense, wheat-free grain into edible foodstuffs), and turned it into less of a career and more of a hobby. I haven't words to describe the joy that brings me.
But you wanna know the best parts? Zorak has fallen in love with the Mixer. We made pizza for Sunday Supper, for the Usual Crowd. Three of the five of them are wheat-free, also, so I made the wf crusts in the mixer and we stood around staring at it while it worked. Then I rinsed the bowls. (Ta-da! All done!) Then Zorak stepped in to make his Famous Pizza Crust... and he could not believe how simple it is to make dough using the stand mixer. He's been singing its praises ever since. It makes me glad to know he doesn't view it as "one of those contraptions the missus has been clamoring for". Not that he'd ever say that, but, well, yeah. Nice to know he likes it, too.
And, as usual, the boys were just delightful. They planned a treasure hunt (for the record, I'd make a lousy treasure hunter - the maps were excellent, but I'm navigationally impaired). They made the entire breakfast, from the coffee to the bacon. They served the meal, and did the most hilarious Serious Waiter impressions I've ever seen. Then they butchered a few songs for my edification, and Emily's. As a matter of fact, the singing went a little long because of her addiction-inspiring squeak-n-squeal of joy. That was fun, and after all was said and done, we got to work on the framing for the screened-in front porch.
OK, I say "we", but what I mean is "Zorak". I took a vicodin and slept on the couch for a few hours. Then I sat on the porch letting him know I wish I could *wince* help *wince*. Yeah, I'm sure that made him feel better as the got the boards cut and fitted and secured into place. He's so good to us.
Happy Belated Mother's Day. I hope your day was just as delightful as ours.
Kiss those babies (and Daddies)!
~Dy
Saturday, May 12
What Shall We Do With A Dated Brick Home?
Well, the inside of our wonderful Forever Home just looks and feels (and smells) so much better now than it did when we first adopted it. We're pretty happy with the work that's been done, and the work that will be done, and we have a clear vision for all that. But now we're faced with a New Challenge (one I'd hoped to put off for a while, actually).
The Forever Home is A Brick Home.
This is a huge thing to many people. They love brick. For myriad reasons, however, we just aren't enamoured with brick. More specifically, *this* brick...
I know, heresy. Yes. There, we've said it. But honestly, this house isn't ensconced in a lovely, timeless brick that harkens back to ages past. It's covered in That 70's Brick.
Click on the picture. There, do you see the little decorative swirlies there? On every. brick. Wasn't that creative? Eventually, the brick is comin' off, and it'll be replaced by stone and stucco, and it will be *lovely*.
HOWEVER, all that's going to have to wait for the den, and the master bedroom expansion.
So.
That leaves us with brick (this brick) for at least the next 5-7 years. (Because we are SO taking a break to enjoy this place between major jobs!) But in the meantime, my house is really ugly on the outside, and we'd like to do something not hideously expensive to update the exterior. Obviously, fresh paint on the trimwork will help, but I'm wondering if any of you have ever resurfaced a brick home? I'd love to mute, or blend, or somehow update these colors. Don't get me wrong, of all the palettes from the '70's they could have chosen, I am eternally grateful it's the "Orange" palette rather than something from the "Avocado", or "Goldenrod" collection. Yes, we dodged some pretty heavy caliber bullets in the color scheme. I'd thought about paint, but from all I've read, it seems there is a special place in hell for those who've painted brick. It's said they are required to pick the paint out of the mortar with toothpicks. So, honestly, we'd rather like to avoid that.
Still... this is... well, yeah. So, if we can do something to make it a little more appealing, I'd sure like to. And then we could further highlight the new Classic Neutrality of the brick with an appropriate trim color. (I've been angling for the slate grey you can see there on some of the bricks. Zorak prefers the more orangey color in some of the bricks - not the lightest ones, but the next down from that.) Anyhow, we were doing such a splendid job of ignoring this little problem until today, when we realized we really need to pick a trim color so we can stain the frame of new screened in porch we're building this weekend.
Tips? Ideas? Humorous anecdotes that'll make me feel like it's not *that* bad? Or should we just cave into the allure of 1971? What do you think?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The Forever Home is A Brick Home.
This is a huge thing to many people. They love brick. For myriad reasons, however, we just aren't enamoured with brick. More specifically, *this* brick...
I know, heresy. Yes. There, we've said it. But honestly, this house isn't ensconced in a lovely, timeless brick that harkens back to ages past. It's covered in That 70's Brick.
Click on the picture. There, do you see the little decorative swirlies there? On every. brick. Wasn't that creative? Eventually, the brick is comin' off, and it'll be replaced by stone and stucco, and it will be *lovely*.
HOWEVER, all that's going to have to wait for the den, and the master bedroom expansion.
So.
That leaves us with brick (this brick) for at least the next 5-7 years. (Because we are SO taking a break to enjoy this place between major jobs!) But in the meantime, my house is really ugly on the outside, and we'd like to do something not hideously expensive to update the exterior. Obviously, fresh paint on the trimwork will help, but I'm wondering if any of you have ever resurfaced a brick home? I'd love to mute, or blend, or somehow update these colors. Don't get me wrong, of all the palettes from the '70's they could have chosen, I am eternally grateful it's the "Orange" palette rather than something from the "Avocado", or "Goldenrod" collection. Yes, we dodged some pretty heavy caliber bullets in the color scheme. I'd thought about paint, but from all I've read, it seems there is a special place in hell for those who've painted brick. It's said they are required to pick the paint out of the mortar with toothpicks. So, honestly, we'd rather like to avoid that.
Still... this is... well, yeah. So, if we can do something to make it a little more appealing, I'd sure like to. And then we could further highlight the new Classic Neutrality of the brick with an appropriate trim color. (I've been angling for the slate grey you can see there on some of the bricks. Zorak prefers the more orangey color in some of the bricks - not the lightest ones, but the next down from that.) Anyhow, we were doing such a splendid job of ignoring this little problem until today, when we realized we really need to pick a trim color so we can stain the frame of new screened in porch we're building this weekend.
Tips? Ideas? Humorous anecdotes that'll make me feel like it's not *that* bad? Or should we just cave into the allure of 1971? What do you think?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, May 11
In Your Eyes
What do your children see when they look at the world around them?
I found this tonight, while sorting through photos, and had to pull it out. I hope what he sees tells him that he's loved, and cherished.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I found this tonight, while sorting through photos, and had to pull it out. I hope what he sees tells him that he's loved, and cherished.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, May 9
Where are the shoes?
The delightful L often posts about being able to spot the "formal" events in her area, because the children wear shoes. That always makes me smile. I grew up in Arizona and New Mexico. If you're outside, you have shoes on, because there are cacti and scorpions and goat heads. If you're inside, you have shoes on, because there are probably goat heads in the carpet. Not to mention, if it's after June 1st, your feet will blister, peel, and fall right off above the ankles if you go outside barefooted. You just wear shoes. But not here. Here, kids wear shoes for formal events, or February. Sometimes for church.
We had a bit of a logistical snafu getting out the door today, and Emily, in the chaos, got loaded up without shoes. I thought for sure we had shoes in the Suburban. After all, we have snacks, paper, books, crayons, and possibly a squirrel in there. There's got to be shoes, right? No. So I carried her sheepishly into the dentist's office, feeling just a wee bit defensive about my piss-poor parenting and the effect this shoe-less foray into "The City" will have on Emily's future prospects for therapy and possibly marriage. We enter. Nobody blinks twice. And that's when I see before me a lobby filled with... unshod children. There had to have been thirteen kids in there, and not a one of them had on shoes! Instead, there was a pile of shoes beneath the reading table. Is there some kind of unspoken ceremony, wherein a child enters the building properly shod, grabs a book, sits down, makes a few sacrifices to the Adults in Charge, then leaves the shoes at the altar and runs off to enjoy childhood as it was meant to be enjoyed?) Huh. I've never seen that before. But it does bode well for Emily's marital prospects, at least.
Really, I think it's just me, and my Ye Shall Protect The Hide Of Thy Feet upbringing. The kids don't seem to have the same hangups I do, and are slowly assimilating into the native condition. Smidge acclimated almost immediately. Our first summer here, Smidge ran about the apartment complex barefooted, and I didn't mind so much. I just tried not to think about the feel of chalky concrete on the soles of my feet. (It makes me cringe just typing that out.) But that was, mmm, okay.
Then we moved out here, and I thought for *sure* he would take to wearing shoes. But no. We bought the forever home, kicked the kids out in the yard, and I have no idea to this day where the shoes he had on have gone. His feet are the color of rich Peruvian llama wool. His little fat baby feet have grown and become lean, but now they have the "weathered" look of... of Ghandi. Blech.
Then, last summer, all three of them signed on with the Barefoot Brigade. Shoeless! Sockless! Not even sandals could placate the innate desire to... to do that. I gave them shoes. I made sure they fit. I tried various styles. I finally resorted to standing there on the porch cringing and yelling,
Now summer weather is here. The children all have crocs, which I thought for sure would make wearing shoes *so* easy, and *so* just like not wearing shoes, that I could put my twitches to rest. But, um, evidently not...
Ah! Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We had a bit of a logistical snafu getting out the door today, and Emily, in the chaos, got loaded up without shoes. I thought for sure we had shoes in the Suburban. After all, we have snacks, paper, books, crayons, and possibly a squirrel in there. There's got to be shoes, right? No. So I carried her sheepishly into the dentist's office, feeling just a wee bit defensive about my piss-poor parenting and the effect this shoe-less foray into "The City" will have on Emily's future prospects for therapy and possibly marriage. We enter. Nobody blinks twice. And that's when I see before me a lobby filled with... unshod children. There had to have been thirteen kids in there, and not a one of them had on shoes! Instead, there was a pile of shoes beneath the reading table. Is there some kind of unspoken ceremony, wherein a child enters the building properly shod, grabs a book, sits down, makes a few sacrifices to the Adults in Charge, then leaves the shoes at the altar and runs off to enjoy childhood as it was meant to be enjoyed?) Huh. I've never seen that before. But it does bode well for Emily's marital prospects, at least.
Really, I think it's just me, and my Ye Shall Protect The Hide Of Thy Feet upbringing. The kids don't seem to have the same hangups I do, and are slowly assimilating into the native condition. Smidge acclimated almost immediately. Our first summer here, Smidge ran about the apartment complex barefooted, and I didn't mind so much. I just tried not to think about the feel of chalky concrete on the soles of my feet. (It makes me cringe just typing that out.) But that was, mmm, okay.
Then we moved out here, and I thought for *sure* he would take to wearing shoes. But no. We bought the forever home, kicked the kids out in the yard, and I have no idea to this day where the shoes he had on have gone. His feet are the color of rich Peruvian llama wool. His little fat baby feet have grown and become lean, but now they have the "weathered" look of... of Ghandi. Blech.
Then, last summer, all three of them signed on with the Barefoot Brigade. Shoeless! Sockless! Not even sandals could placate the innate desire to... to do that. I gave them shoes. I made sure they fit. I tried various styles. I finally resorted to standing there on the porch cringing and yelling,
"The vet said the ground is infested with hookworms! Do you want to go BLIND?!?! Get your shoes on!"They're good boys. They'd try. Well, the older two tried. We'd already lost Smidge by then. And near the end of last summer I thought for sure I'd fought the good fight and that my children would understand the Importance of proper footwear.
Now summer weather is here. The children all have crocs, which I thought for sure would make wearing shoes *so* easy, and *so* just like not wearing shoes, that I could put my twitches to rest. But, um, evidently not...
Ah! Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, May 8
Kitchen Chat
I've got some brown rice concoction languishing in the blender. Rumor has it that it'll turn into pancakes if I leave it there long enough. But just in case, I didn't mention to the boys that there may be pancakes tomorrow. The dishwasher and washing machine are doing their thing, and I'm sitting here with dry hands, a comfortable back, and a whole lot of appreciation in my heart.
We had a pretty good day today, all around. Lots of time outside. A good portion of time really connecting with each other. I've been working hard on not letting my own lacking strength or enthusiasm seep out onto the boys, and I *think* (hope, pray!) it's beginning to sink in with me. So I set the tone, and really, they do tend to follow suit. (Funny how that works. Remind me of this when we have "one of those days" - odds are good it'll be because I dropped the ball.) One of them was feeling a bit contrary, a bit cranky, but he opened right up when I approached him about it and we were able to get to the root of the matter. It doesn't always go down that well, but when it does, it feels like winning a marathon. Or how I would envision it would feel to win a marathon. Maybe a three-legged race? I don't know, but it felt good.
The boys have been ploughing through the fruits and veggies lately, so we had to make an emergency trip into town for more fresh stuff. (NOT complaining!) It was nice to load up on things with the boys' input. Asparagus is in season right now, so we picked up five pounds of that. (You can never have enough asparagus on hand. Never.) With the grill now dead, we've been brainstorming quick meals. It's not so much preparation time, but more specifically we needed meals that will not require the oven, and only minimal stovetop use. Stir fry fits that bill nicely! I do love summer cooking.
I sent the boys ahead to find the next aisle we needed, and John approached a little girl at the end of one aisle and began talking with her, kidding with her, squirrelling around a bit. That took me off guard. "Huh," I thought, "he doesn't usually just dive right into - OH MY WORD, did he just nudge that child with his elbow?!?!?" Thankfully that was all internal. Turned out to be one of the girls on his baseball team. I'm glad he recognized her, because I've never seen her with her hair down, dressed in something other than practice clothes or their game uniforms. It was nice to actually run into someone we know while we're at the market. That was a normal occurrence when we lived back out west, and I didn't realize how much I've missed it. So, small Poky Little Puppy distraction. Kind of nice.
We found little gardening hand tool sets for the boys, so they're eacharmed erm, equipped for the garden now. Hopefully, we won't find ourselves regretting this decision from the comfort of the ER lobby.
Since I had my act together, we finished eating early enough to go outside and play after supper. (That skill's going to come in handy when the summer humidity hits!) While we were out there, Zorak had a Truly Brilliant idea, probably inspired by one of the children running smack into the woodpile in the dark *again*. He dug out our camping lantern and hung it on the cheesy windmill thing in the upper meadow, then pulled the picnic table over close enough to enjoy the light, but not so close that we had to deal with bugs. The boys played some horrible combination of rugby, football, high-speed cop chase... I'm not sure what it was, but it sounded fun. And painful. Baby Girl and Smidge walked atop the railroad ties around the windmill, ooohhhing and ahhhing over the bugs, the leaves, the stars in the sky. And I can't believe we did this, but Zorak and I sat on either end of the picnic bench for a good five minutes before we realized...
"HEY, we're the only two here!"
*scootch* *scootch*
"Mmmm, much better."
So what began as a simple means of preventing major neck injuries in the Small Ones turned into a lovely impromptu date night and family excursion. (The garden-gnome version of a windmill is still outta here the first chance we get, but now we think we'll replace it with a post for hanging the lantern.)
Did you have an enjoyable day today?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We had a pretty good day today, all around. Lots of time outside. A good portion of time really connecting with each other. I've been working hard on not letting my own lacking strength or enthusiasm seep out onto the boys, and I *think* (hope, pray!) it's beginning to sink in with me. So I set the tone, and really, they do tend to follow suit. (Funny how that works. Remind me of this when we have "one of those days" - odds are good it'll be because I dropped the ball.) One of them was feeling a bit contrary, a bit cranky, but he opened right up when I approached him about it and we were able to get to the root of the matter. It doesn't always go down that well, but when it does, it feels like winning a marathon. Or how I would envision it would feel to win a marathon. Maybe a three-legged race? I don't know, but it felt good.
The boys have been ploughing through the fruits and veggies lately, so we had to make an emergency trip into town for more fresh stuff. (NOT complaining!) It was nice to load up on things with the boys' input. Asparagus is in season right now, so we picked up five pounds of that. (You can never have enough asparagus on hand. Never.) With the grill now dead, we've been brainstorming quick meals. It's not so much preparation time, but more specifically we needed meals that will not require the oven, and only minimal stovetop use. Stir fry fits that bill nicely! I do love summer cooking.
I sent the boys ahead to find the next aisle we needed, and John approached a little girl at the end of one aisle and began talking with her, kidding with her, squirrelling around a bit. That took me off guard. "Huh," I thought, "he doesn't usually just dive right into - OH MY WORD, did he just nudge that child with his elbow?!?!?" Thankfully that was all internal. Turned out to be one of the girls on his baseball team. I'm glad he recognized her, because I've never seen her with her hair down, dressed in something other than practice clothes or their game uniforms. It was nice to actually run into someone we know while we're at the market. That was a normal occurrence when we lived back out west, and I didn't realize how much I've missed it. So, small Poky Little Puppy distraction. Kind of nice.
We found little gardening hand tool sets for the boys, so they're each
Since I had my act together, we finished eating early enough to go outside and play after supper. (That skill's going to come in handy when the summer humidity hits!) While we were out there, Zorak had a Truly Brilliant idea, probably inspired by one of the children running smack into the woodpile in the dark *again*. He dug out our camping lantern and hung it on the cheesy windmill thing in the upper meadow, then pulled the picnic table over close enough to enjoy the light, but not so close that we had to deal with bugs. The boys played some horrible combination of rugby, football, high-speed cop chase... I'm not sure what it was, but it sounded fun. And painful. Baby Girl and Smidge walked atop the railroad ties around the windmill, ooohhhing and ahhhing over the bugs, the leaves, the stars in the sky. And I can't believe we did this, but Zorak and I sat on either end of the picnic bench for a good five minutes before we realized...
"HEY, we're the only two here!"
*scootch* *scootch*
"Mmmm, much better."
So what began as a simple means of preventing major neck injuries in the Small Ones turned into a lovely impromptu date night and family excursion. (The garden-gnome version of a windmill is still outta here the first chance we get, but now we think we'll replace it with a post for hanging the lantern.)
Did you have an enjoyable day today?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Oh, this feels good!
James just posted his translation work on the fridge. He worked hard, and he's proud of that work. He bounced and leapt and whirled out the front door to tell his brothers how excited he is over the work he did. I'm sitting here snickering to myself, and simply didn't have the heart to tell him that he'd just written a *whole page* of work. (Didn't have the heart to do that to myself, that is! Normally, getting him to write is torture, right up there with expecting him to floss sharks, or stab kittens with toothpicks. Not that we'd ask those things of him, but you wouldn't know it from the terror a simple writing assignment typically inspires.)
And so, he's learning the things he needs to learn.
And I'm learning the things I need to learn.
And here it is, lunchtime.
That went quickly. :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
And so, he's learning the things he needs to learn.
And I'm learning the things I need to learn.
And here it is, lunchtime.
That went quickly. :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Bad timing #432
The heating element in your outdoor grill dies in May.
Perhaps it's time to put in a pit bbq?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Perhaps it's time to put in a pit bbq?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, May 7
Done by 7AM
I have a vague recollection of someone placing a book on my chest this morning around six, and a disembodied voice from somewhere beyond my peripheral vision murmuring, "Look, I'm done with my math." I think I mumbled something encouraging (I hope it was encouraging), and then everything went blissfully black again.
There's a slightly clearer memory of a voice and a blurry-headed boy at my bedside around six-thirty, showing me what I can only guess to be a completed Latin page, based on the jarringly chipper narrative that accompanied the bobbing movements of the blurry head.
Around seven, James came *bounding* into the room once again, fully dressed, to snuggle up beside me and whisper, "I've done all my schoolwork."
Mrmpf.
"Did you hear me, Mom? Isn't that wonderful?"
(OK, ok, I'll get up.) You did *all* of it?
"Yep. All of it. I even did my reading this morning. And see, I'm dressed!"
Mrmpf. Um... yeah... why?
"Because I wanted to make you smile." *big cheesy smile*
*choke* *snort* *grumble* (Riiiiight. Sure you did.) And?
"And may I play a little Paper Mario?"
Heh. OK, that makes a lot more sense than the initial presentation of a burning desire To Do Right In The World.
Still, seven in the morning and the kid is up, dressed, has fed the dog, and done all of his schoolwork independently. Yeah, that's a bargain I'm willing to strike this morning. And when he's done, I think I'm going to show him how to make coffee, in case this ever happens again.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
There's a slightly clearer memory of a voice and a blurry-headed boy at my bedside around six-thirty, showing me what I can only guess to be a completed Latin page, based on the jarringly chipper narrative that accompanied the bobbing movements of the blurry head.
Around seven, James came *bounding* into the room once again, fully dressed, to snuggle up beside me and whisper, "I've done all my schoolwork."
Mrmpf.
"Did you hear me, Mom? Isn't that wonderful?"
(OK, ok, I'll get up.) You did *all* of it?
"Yep. All of it. I even did my reading this morning. And see, I'm dressed!"
Mrmpf. Um... yeah... why?
"Because I wanted to make you smile." *big cheesy smile*
*choke* *snort* *grumble* (Riiiiight. Sure you did.) And?
"And may I play a little Paper Mario?"
Heh. OK, that makes a lot more sense than the initial presentation of a burning desire To Do Right In The World.
Still, seven in the morning and the kid is up, dressed, has fed the dog, and done all of his schoolwork independently. Yeah, that's a bargain I'm willing to strike this morning. And when he's done, I think I'm going to show him how to make coffee, in case this ever happens again.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, May 6
You are so not in the club.
"What club?"
"The church club."
"Yeah... I noticed."
We went to the VTC again today. They don't really break between Sunday School and the service (the pause is only long enough for the pianist to walk to the front of the church and sit down), and two and a half hours is just a bit long for the little guys to sit still and quiet without any kind of a break (potty, snack, stretch-yer-legs). So we decided to go for the service only, which the sign says begins at 10:35. We got there at 10:30. Sunday school ended around 10:50, and they moved right into the service. We got out of there at almost one. I asked what time they normally end Sunday School (thinking that perhaps today had been a special study), and was told, "Whenever I finish." Oh. Well, that'll make planning easy.
After the service, the pastor's wife approached and mentioned that it's been a while since she's vaccumed in there and hoped we didn't encounter too many bugs when I'd taken EmBaby to the far back for a bit. (We did. They were pretty numerous. The windows are filthy, too, and the place could use a dusting.) She said she'd get the vaccum out and bring it over and tidy up a bit, and so I offered to come and help. I've never been in a congregation that wasn't clamoring for women to come help clean the church. That is, never been to one until today. You'd have thought I'd said I'd come clean her home. Nope, they don't need any help with cleaning the church. OK, well, you know, if you ever do the big spring cleaning, or need help with the woodwork, or whatev--- "NOPE. We don't need any help ever. We're fine."
Uh-huh.
On the way down the steps, I asked the pastor about two of the ill who'd been mentioned in the prayers that morning, and let him know that if anybody is ever ill or homebound and they need someone to do grocery shopping or bring meals, please don't hesitate to let me know. His response took me by surprise: "We take care of our own in this community. We don't turn to any 'church organizations' when we need something." He expounded a bit, but it didn't make any more sense than that, and wasn't nearly as gentle.
That, a few other things, all of it together, struck me as... odd. Isn't a congregation part of the community? Isn't it the calling of the church to take care of those who need care? I wasn't offering to send out FEMA requests, or to call in a representative from a large national organization to come survey the situation and make recommendations. I was offering to help, myself, in person. Coming from a pastor, as well, the facial display of ironic quotes when he said "church organizations" seemed a bit... well, off. I thought maybe I was just being prideful in feeling snubbed so curtly, and decided not to say anything more about it.
Then on the drive home, Zorak hit me with the observation above. That's how it sure looked from his point of view. Folks, just a tip: when someone from outside your faith sees the flock snubbing other believers, it's Painfully Obvious. You're not being subtle, or probably even kind.
*sigh*
I know. We're not "from here". You don't have to remind me. (And I wish the people who are From Here would stop making such a point of it, themselves.)
I don't know how long this congregation has been down to five people, but it seems its been long enough that they've become settled in their ways. To the pastor's wife, it probably felt as if I *did* offer to come clean her home. In her mind, that's her church. She cleans it. She decorates it. It's hers. I wouldn't even say she knows she's developed that attitude, honestly. She acted more offended by my offer than anything.
Same thing with not taking a fellowship break between Sunday School and the service. Everybody who comes is there, so let's just move on. It's comfortable for them, and it works... for them.
And the pastor's response to an offer of a warm body to help out when help is needed? I have no idea.
But I want to cry.
"The church club."
"Yeah... I noticed."
We went to the VTC again today. They don't really break between Sunday School and the service (the pause is only long enough for the pianist to walk to the front of the church and sit down), and two and a half hours is just a bit long for the little guys to sit still and quiet without any kind of a break (potty, snack, stretch-yer-legs). So we decided to go for the service only, which the sign says begins at 10:35. We got there at 10:30. Sunday school ended around 10:50, and they moved right into the service. We got out of there at almost one. I asked what time they normally end Sunday School (thinking that perhaps today had been a special study), and was told, "Whenever I finish." Oh. Well, that'll make planning easy.
After the service, the pastor's wife approached and mentioned that it's been a while since she's vaccumed in there and hoped we didn't encounter too many bugs when I'd taken EmBaby to the far back for a bit. (We did. They were pretty numerous. The windows are filthy, too, and the place could use a dusting.) She said she'd get the vaccum out and bring it over and tidy up a bit, and so I offered to come and help. I've never been in a congregation that wasn't clamoring for women to come help clean the church. That is, never been to one until today. You'd have thought I'd said I'd come clean her home. Nope, they don't need any help with cleaning the church. OK, well, you know, if you ever do the big spring cleaning, or need help with the woodwork, or whatev--- "NOPE. We don't need any help ever. We're fine."
Uh-huh.
On the way down the steps, I asked the pastor about two of the ill who'd been mentioned in the prayers that morning, and let him know that if anybody is ever ill or homebound and they need someone to do grocery shopping or bring meals, please don't hesitate to let me know. His response took me by surprise: "We take care of our own in this community. We don't turn to any 'church organizations' when we need something." He expounded a bit, but it didn't make any more sense than that, and wasn't nearly as gentle.
That, a few other things, all of it together, struck me as... odd. Isn't a congregation part of the community? Isn't it the calling of the church to take care of those who need care? I wasn't offering to send out FEMA requests, or to call in a representative from a large national organization to come survey the situation and make recommendations. I was offering to help, myself, in person. Coming from a pastor, as well, the facial display of ironic quotes when he said "church organizations" seemed a bit... well, off. I thought maybe I was just being prideful in feeling snubbed so curtly, and decided not to say anything more about it.
Then on the drive home, Zorak hit me with the observation above. That's how it sure looked from his point of view. Folks, just a tip: when someone from outside your faith sees the flock snubbing other believers, it's Painfully Obvious. You're not being subtle, or probably even kind.
*sigh*
I know. We're not "from here". You don't have to remind me. (And I wish the people who are From Here would stop making such a point of it, themselves.)
I don't know how long this congregation has been down to five people, but it seems its been long enough that they've become settled in their ways. To the pastor's wife, it probably felt as if I *did* offer to come clean her home. In her mind, that's her church. She cleans it. She decorates it. It's hers. I wouldn't even say she knows she's developed that attitude, honestly. She acted more offended by my offer than anything.
Same thing with not taking a fellowship break between Sunday School and the service. Everybody who comes is there, so let's just move on. It's comfortable for them, and it works... for them.
And the pastor's response to an offer of a warm body to help out when help is needed? I have no idea.
But I want to cry.
Saturday Wrap-Up
The game this morning was amazing. Both teams played their wee hearts out. The team they played today has an inordinate number of little guys, too, and that made the coaches from both teams out on the field look like the Gulliver family enjoying a reunion in Lilliput. John's team lost this game - something like 17 - 14. It was close, hard, and fast. Kids flying past home plate from both teams the entire time. Obviously, neither team has quite mastered the whole concept of "fielding the ball" yet. But they had fun, and there was no tension, no attitude, from the stands or the refs. It was what baseball should look like. Good, good stuff.
Zorak's making progress in the basement. He built a door for the Scary Room, strung more wire (thus bringing the rest of the lights up to code), and added a few much-needed outlets. There's only one more wire to run and we can put the cover back on the electrical box! WOOHOO! He also cleaned up a lot down there.
The boys tended the fire. And had a sword fight. Thankfully, not all at the same time.
Zorak built stilts for the boys, and they had a blast trying to master a new skill.
BabyGirl ran around in circles, fed the Baltoid by hand, and insisted on climbing the Terrifyingly Dangerous Stairs to the Very Dangerous Balcony. (Anyone know where I can get a shirt that says, "No, I do not know fear"?)
James just about made me cry when he hit a MAJOR "growing up" milestone today. He started to snap at one of his brothers (who was, admittedly, being a bit irritating), but he stopped himself, and corrected his tone - without prompting from an adult! Nobody said anything, he just caught it on his own. Oh! It was beautiful. *sniff* My baby's growing up.
I spent h-o-u-r-s decluttering. I swear our paper products must be made of rabbit. There's no way we have brought *that much* paper into the house in the last month, so it's got to be breeding. New House Rule: you may not leave any two sheets of paper unchaperoned for longer than one day. (And if that doesn't work, then all paper products will be checked at the door.)
The rest of the day was pretty much the same old stuff: we wrote, we read, we laughed; we talked, we ate, we worked. Well, I say "same old stuff", but it's the stuff that holds the day together amidst the decluttering and building and planning. That's the stuff that gives you the time to make eye contact more, and smile a little longer, and sit closer together. In that stuff is where you get to say to your children, "I'm here," and they get to say to you, "We know." Can't beat that, even if it's not hilarious or poignant or eloquent.
I don't know what I would do if it weren't for the downtime, the loud and raucous time, the together time. A friend said something a while back about how hard it would be to get things accomplished when you never get six hours during the day with all the children gone, to get things done, to regroup, and to take quiet breaks. At first, I thought, "well, yeah, that's true," but then I realized, "*pfft* who am I kidding? If I had six hours to myself every day, I wouldn't accomplish a darned thing. I'd put the coffee pot and half-gallon jug of creamer on my nightstand, dig out the stash of Zebra Cakes, and spend six hours every day reading in bed and eating myself into a coma!" Sure, it sounds heavenly for the first three or four hundred pounds, but eventually? No, let's face it - the life I have right now is exactly the life I need. They keep me focused, keep me honest, and keep me going. It's really, really good.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Zorak's making progress in the basement. He built a door for the Scary Room, strung more wire (thus bringing the rest of the lights up to code), and added a few much-needed outlets. There's only one more wire to run and we can put the cover back on the electrical box! WOOHOO! He also cleaned up a lot down there.
The boys tended the fire. And had a sword fight. Thankfully, not all at the same time.
Zorak built stilts for the boys, and they had a blast trying to master a new skill.
BabyGirl ran around in circles, fed the Baltoid by hand, and insisted on climbing the Terrifyingly Dangerous Stairs to the Very Dangerous Balcony. (Anyone know where I can get a shirt that says, "No, I do not know fear"?)
James just about made me cry when he hit a MAJOR "growing up" milestone today. He started to snap at one of his brothers (who was, admittedly, being a bit irritating), but he stopped himself, and corrected his tone - without prompting from an adult! Nobody said anything, he just caught it on his own. Oh! It was beautiful. *sniff* My baby's growing up.
I spent h-o-u-r-s decluttering. I swear our paper products must be made of rabbit. There's no way we have brought *that much* paper into the house in the last month, so it's got to be breeding. New House Rule: you may not leave any two sheets of paper unchaperoned for longer than one day. (And if that doesn't work, then all paper products will be checked at the door.)
The rest of the day was pretty much the same old stuff: we wrote, we read, we laughed; we talked, we ate, we worked. Well, I say "same old stuff", but it's the stuff that holds the day together amidst the decluttering and building and planning. That's the stuff that gives you the time to make eye contact more, and smile a little longer, and sit closer together. In that stuff is where you get to say to your children, "I'm here," and they get to say to you, "We know." Can't beat that, even if it's not hilarious or poignant or eloquent.
I don't know what I would do if it weren't for the downtime, the loud and raucous time, the together time. A friend said something a while back about how hard it would be to get things accomplished when you never get six hours during the day with all the children gone, to get things done, to regroup, and to take quiet breaks. At first, I thought, "well, yeah, that's true," but then I realized, "*pfft* who am I kidding? If I had six hours to myself every day, I wouldn't accomplish a darned thing. I'd put the coffee pot and half-gallon jug of creamer on my nightstand, dig out the stash of Zebra Cakes, and spend six hours every day reading in bed and eating myself into a coma!" Sure, it sounds heavenly for the first three or four hundred pounds, but eventually? No, let's face it - the life I have right now is exactly the life I need. They keep me focused, keep me honest, and keep me going. It's really, really good.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, May 4
Citrus and Beverage Stands
Not-so-clever attempt at avoiding a cliche. ;-) There's that, and the Byrds (or Solomon's) To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven... *pfft* That is so much easier to say (or sing) and not mean (or to mean, but from a distance; makes a delightful third person pep talk), than to live and still say meaningfully. Let's just say I don't think the Book of Ecclesiastes was written by a hormonal woman. It's still wise, and good, and pertinent. It's just far easier to identify with at certain times. This is not one of those times.
But even so, it's been a good week.
Zorak did some concrete work in the basement this week and had a little leftover cement, so he got the boys together and they made "dinosaur eggs" using that and the plastic Easter egg remnants. Today they opened the molds, and the little eggs look great. We'll put some clutches out in the garden beds next week.
The horned toad we were planning to mummify... well, we packed it in salt so it wouldn't puff up and rot before we could buy the materials to preserve it. Then Zorak built a "tomb" to keep Baltoid out. And it seems the tomb was so well-concealed that we forgot about it. I'm mostly afraid to go look now. But we did get all the things to mummify it. Think we'll have another slightly cool day before summer hits full-on?
While everybody else was busy watching William the Conqueror and the Tapestry of Bayeux, both of which are excellent, I found this little gem...
And I've been giggling to myself all night.
Yes. It's been good.
Kiss those babies!
Dy
But even so, it's been a good week.
Zorak did some concrete work in the basement this week and had a little leftover cement, so he got the boys together and they made "dinosaur eggs" using that and the plastic Easter egg remnants. Today they opened the molds, and the little eggs look great. We'll put some clutches out in the garden beds next week.
The horned toad we were planning to mummify... well, we packed it in salt so it wouldn't puff up and rot before we could buy the materials to preserve it. Then Zorak built a "tomb" to keep Baltoid out. And it seems the tomb was so well-concealed that we forgot about it. I'm mostly afraid to go look now. But we did get all the things to mummify it. Think we'll have another slightly cool day before summer hits full-on?
While everybody else was busy watching William the Conqueror and the Tapestry of Bayeux, both of which are excellent, I found this little gem...
And I've been giggling to myself all night.
Yes. It's been good.
Kiss those babies!
Dy
Thursday, May 3
Too yummy not to share.
A cup (or so) of frozen blueberries.
One can of coconut milk.
Half a cup of cold water.
2 Tbsp. cooking oil (NOT olive, okay? Ew.)
1/4-ish c. sugar (or perhaps honey? Somebody try honey and let us know how it works!)
Dump all this into your blender. Fill it almot to the top with ice. Blend for two full minutes.
Goes great with lunch! (And look, Melissa, it's kinda healthy... And Amy, I didn't use the "t" word!)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
One can of coconut milk.
Half a cup of cold water.
2 Tbsp. cooking oil (NOT olive, okay? Ew.)
1/4-ish c. sugar (or perhaps honey? Somebody try honey and let us know how it works!)
Dump all this into your blender. Fill it almot to the top with ice. Blend for two full minutes.
Goes great with lunch! (And look, Melissa, it's kinda healthy... And Amy, I didn't use the "t" word!)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Heh. Yeah.
Well, we had great morning lessons, and then, since the humidity wasn't stifling, we headed out-of-doors. (That sounds so formal, doesn't it?) The boys wanted to help me mark out a track for our walking/running plans (I've been wanting to do the Couch Potato-to-5K program), so we got started on that.
Um, what's less active than a couch potato? Would that be the eye of the potato, perhaps? Or just the skin? Whatever it is, that's me. Whoo-boy. The boys endeavored to make me feel better, though, by bolting back into the house for granola bars so they could snack while we trekked, and then back and forth for water breaks, and finally yet again for books to read. When I'd had enough of their mocking (and I couldn't breathe anymore), we plopped down in the grass with our books and inhaled gnats for a while. That was nice.
The boys did copywork and illustrations today, which they enjoy more than narrations, but less than, say, puppet shows. John copied and illustrated the opening lines to the poem, "My Town", by Lois Lenski. James chose a quote from Themistocles' teacher:
(On TV? Where is he seeing blurred faces - OR private parts - on TV? Do I need to be keeping a closer eye on PBS?) Ahhh, moving along, then.
We made the pendant craft from Chapter 37 in SOTW. And we now have one tiny head, two brittle snakes, and three broken, chipped, or cracked pieces of pottery pendants lying about the kitchen. Probably not the best craft for this crowd. But by gum, we did it, and we enjoyed it! GO US!
Then we blew an hour and watched Radio, which made me cry, of course. The boys decided it would cheer me up if we went outside to play frisbee. They were right. That was a hoot!
Zorak arrived home to find his clan enjoying the afternoon breezes, running about, mowing the lawn, eating the pine cones. (I'll let you decide who was doing what. There was an awful lot of activity, and it's sometimes hard to keep it straight.) Really, it was good.
Then, thanks to our running and snuggling and mowing and squirrelling, the children peacably brushed and flossed and curled up for the bedtime read, but didn't make it through more than three pages. What a great day!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Um, what's less active than a couch potato? Would that be the eye of the potato, perhaps? Or just the skin? Whatever it is, that's me. Whoo-boy. The boys endeavored to make me feel better, though, by bolting back into the house for granola bars so they could snack while we trekked, and then back and forth for water breaks, and finally yet again for books to read. When I'd had enough of their mocking (and I couldn't breathe anymore), we plopped down in the grass with our books and inhaled gnats for a while. That was nice.
The boys did copywork and illustrations today, which they enjoy more than narrations, but less than, say, puppet shows. John copied and illustrated the opening lines to the poem, "My Town", by Lois Lenski. James chose a quote from Themistocles' teacher:
You, Themistocles, are destined to be something out of the ordinary. Great you will be one way or the other, either for good or for evil.It was all uneventful until he showed me his illustration. Is that a loin cloth? "No," he says, "See, it's just like how they blur faces and private parts on TV, with the little squares. Cool, huh?"
(On TV? Where is he seeing blurred faces - OR private parts - on TV? Do I need to be keeping a closer eye on PBS?) Ahhh, moving along, then.
We made the pendant craft from Chapter 37 in SOTW. And we now have one tiny head, two brittle snakes, and three broken, chipped, or cracked pieces of pottery pendants lying about the kitchen. Probably not the best craft for this crowd. But by gum, we did it, and we enjoyed it! GO US!
Then we blew an hour and watched Radio, which made me cry, of course. The boys decided it would cheer me up if we went outside to play frisbee. They were right. That was a hoot!
Zorak arrived home to find his clan enjoying the afternoon breezes, running about, mowing the lawn, eating the pine cones. (I'll let you decide who was doing what. There was an awful lot of activity, and it's sometimes hard to keep it straight.) Really, it was good.
Then, thanks to our running and snuggling and mowing and squirrelling, the children peacably brushed and flossed and curled up for the bedtime read, but didn't make it through more than three pages. What a great day!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, May 2
I need a name for these!
Oh. My. Word. I love squash, but if I had to face another plate of steamed or broiled squash slices, I'm afraid I was going to go Serial Mom. So, get creative. Why not? If you have a firm grasp of what will and will not explode upon combining, then the kitchen is your Crazy Private Lab. It's like I told LB; in theory, I'm a great cook! ;-)
Anyway, I have no idea what to call these things, and the only things popping into my head are cheesy 1960's-era names like "Heavenly Squash Cakes" or "One Potato, Two Potato, Three..." well, ew. That's just where I give up. (And this would probably be a good time to remind you all to visit the Gallery of Regrettable Foods! If you haven't been before, you'll laugh until you embarrass yourself or your loved ones. If you haven't been in a while, well, nothing like a little Broiled Yeti... yeah, to get you through the arsenic hour! *note: not for the children, the squeamish, or the prim*)
However, this recipe is a wholly G-rated, family affair. EmBaby has eaten two already, and supper's not even on the table.
Here, try them:
-Pre-heat your griddle to... oh, let's go with Hot.
-Make the two-serving size of instant mashed potatoes. (Or make two servings of regular mashed potatoes. I won't tell if you won't.)
-Shred one yellow squash and one zucchini (use the carrot shredder)
-Sautee (brown, whatever, I'm not finicky) half an onion and one clove of garlic (squished or pressed - however you break it up is fine) just until softened
Dump the potatoes and the squashes into a big bowl. Crack an egg into that, and blend. Add the onions and seasoning to taste. Blend well.
The mixture will be a bit thin for cooking at this point. Throw in some flour. I used bean flour. You can use whatever you'd normally use. (Why do I even bother with writing down recipes? I know.) About a quarter to half a cup, depending on how much moisture your squashes had in them. It'll be about the consistency of pancake batter when it's right. Lumpy pancake batter with colorful bits in it.
Use some kind of scooping device (I'd go with a Tablespoon, for uniformity and ease of flipping) to scoop the concoction onto the Hot griddle. Smooth out a bit. Cook until brown on one side. Flip. Repeat. Remove to plate.
OK, seeing it written down, they're basically potato pancakes with squash. That doesn't sound as good as these things taste, though. Seriously - YUM!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Anyway, I have no idea what to call these things, and the only things popping into my head are cheesy 1960's-era names like "Heavenly Squash Cakes" or "One Potato, Two Potato, Three..." well, ew. That's just where I give up. (And this would probably be a good time to remind you all to visit the Gallery of Regrettable Foods! If you haven't been before, you'll laugh until you embarrass yourself or your loved ones. If you haven't been in a while, well, nothing like a little Broiled Yeti... yeah, to get you through the arsenic hour! *note: not for the children, the squeamish, or the prim*)
However, this recipe is a wholly G-rated, family affair. EmBaby has eaten two already, and supper's not even on the table.
Here, try them:
-Pre-heat your griddle to... oh, let's go with Hot.
-Make the two-serving size of instant mashed potatoes. (Or make two servings of regular mashed potatoes. I won't tell if you won't.)
-Shred one yellow squash and one zucchini (use the carrot shredder)
-Sautee (brown, whatever, I'm not finicky) half an onion and one clove of garlic (squished or pressed - however you break it up is fine) just until softened
Dump the potatoes and the squashes into a big bowl. Crack an egg into that, and blend. Add the onions and seasoning to taste. Blend well.
The mixture will be a bit thin for cooking at this point. Throw in some flour. I used bean flour. You can use whatever you'd normally use. (Why do I even bother with writing down recipes? I know.) About a quarter to half a cup, depending on how much moisture your squashes had in them. It'll be about the consistency of pancake batter when it's right. Lumpy pancake batter with colorful bits in it.
Use some kind of scooping device (I'd go with a Tablespoon, for uniformity and ease of flipping) to scoop the concoction onto the Hot griddle. Smooth out a bit. Cook until brown on one side. Flip. Repeat. Remove to plate.
OK, seeing it written down, they're basically potato pancakes with squash. That doesn't sound as good as these things taste, though. Seriously - YUM!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
A Good Homeschool Morning!
I had a splendid plan to get up early this morning to go walking. Sounded good, anyway, until the sun peered in the window, the birds began their serenade, and the Mighty Snuggly Smidge crept into bed to... well, to snuggle. And so, instead, we all slept in a bit, and are now enjoying hot tea, Themistocles, free play... and the free concert the birds are still providing. If we had a porch swing, we'd be out there right now, instead. (As a matter of fact, I've decided a nice, big porch swing is a homeschooling necessity. Skip the desk, use the kitchen table, and invest in a swing. Yup.) We'll walk later, when our lessons are done.
Spring brings with it an end to our mini-hibernation from the bitter cold of January. We get out and roll about in the daffodils. We stretch our limbs and scratch our mosquito bites. But we keep learning. Spring is a good time to review the plan and see how it's coming along. And that's what we've been doing. I like taking that time to review my job. For instance, it's my job to create a safe place for our children to learn, to provide good things for our children to learn, and to model the things for these children to learn. It's the best job I've ever had, and yes, a task to which I sometimes feel inadequate. But when that happens, it's not a time to give up (how would we feel about any teacher, pastor, mentor who simply rolled over and gave up when things got a bit challenging?) That's when it's time for me to take a deep breath, take stock of our plan, and work a little harder at what I do. Part of that whole modeling thing, I suppose. It pays off.
I had the delight yesterday of watching one of my children do something "for fun" that, just six months ago, would have caused him no end of frustration and sadness. He sat, writing words, solving crossword puzzles, reading directions, as if he'd been doing it his whole life. He giggled at silly games and said laughingly, "Oh, I know this! It's easy!" And it is, now. But I remember when those things didn't come easy for him, when the task of deciphering felt insurmountable to him. And I couldn't help but smile because this whole world is open to him in a way we often take for granted. I'm thankful to be a part of his learning adventure. And I'm humbled, when I stop to think that I have been a participant in history. Not world history, perhaps, nor even events that will make it into the annals of the state records. But our history. His history. His story. Wow.
While one child enjoys the gift of the written word, another child grapples with the spoken word. He works hard, every day, to express himself more clearly, to grasp the sounds and syllables that often evade only him. His speech and vocabulary have expanded tremendously this last year, but the work isn't done. He knows it, and I know it. And that's okay. He knows we are a team, and we're working toward the same goal. He knows he's safe among us and won't be ridiculed for his failures. He knows they won't be counted as failures, or held against him, or used to define who he is. His "classmates" won't ever tease him, or mock him for that which he attempts -- whether he succeeds or not. He knows that when he does succeed, we'll be there to lift him up in triumph. He knows that when he needs to try again, we'll be there to cheer him on. Of course, he doesn't know how to express it like that. He doesn't even know there is another way to learn, to live. And once more, I'm humbled and thankful.
And again, I've watched another child (wow, there's a lot of children in this reverie!) fly through some tasks and skills with the ease of one who has been doing them for ages, then in turn struggle and wrestle with others. So while the math and the science, the analysis and deduction all come intuitively to him, the self-discipline of staying on task and paying attention, of remembering what he's heard, and remembering that he's supposed to be reading... and paying attention to what he's read... well, those are his special challenges. And I am here, to guide, instruct, cheer, encourage. He'll get it, and it'll be his hard work that gets him there. But I will be there when he does, and I will know just what it took for him to enjoy the savory, rich flavor of a job well done.
The thing that strikes me clearly is that none of this is due to any Phenomenal Educational Training on my part. It's the dynamic of our homeschool. It's the ebb and flow of Life that we've chosen to embrace. It's the Big Picture goals Zorak and I have set for our home, our family, and our children. What they do with the tools we give them is up to them entirely. We hope to teach them to use their tools well, to take care of their tools, and to put them to good use no matter where they go or what they do in their lives.
And in the meantime, we're here. We're modeling. We're learning, striving, failing, achieving. I can't think of a better place for a child to learn than right here, at home.
Spring brings with it an end to our mini-hibernation from the bitter cold of January. We get out and roll about in the daffodils. We stretch our limbs and scratch our mosquito bites. But we keep learning. Spring is a good time to review the plan and see how it's coming along. And that's what we've been doing. I like taking that time to review my job. For instance, it's my job to create a safe place for our children to learn, to provide good things for our children to learn, and to model the things for these children to learn. It's the best job I've ever had, and yes, a task to which I sometimes feel inadequate. But when that happens, it's not a time to give up (how would we feel about any teacher, pastor, mentor who simply rolled over and gave up when things got a bit challenging?) That's when it's time for me to take a deep breath, take stock of our plan, and work a little harder at what I do. Part of that whole modeling thing, I suppose. It pays off.
I had the delight yesterday of watching one of my children do something "for fun" that, just six months ago, would have caused him no end of frustration and sadness. He sat, writing words, solving crossword puzzles, reading directions, as if he'd been doing it his whole life. He giggled at silly games and said laughingly, "Oh, I know this! It's easy!" And it is, now. But I remember when those things didn't come easy for him, when the task of deciphering felt insurmountable to him. And I couldn't help but smile because this whole world is open to him in a way we often take for granted. I'm thankful to be a part of his learning adventure. And I'm humbled, when I stop to think that I have been a participant in history. Not world history, perhaps, nor even events that will make it into the annals of the state records. But our history. His history. His story. Wow.
While one child enjoys the gift of the written word, another child grapples with the spoken word. He works hard, every day, to express himself more clearly, to grasp the sounds and syllables that often evade only him. His speech and vocabulary have expanded tremendously this last year, but the work isn't done. He knows it, and I know it. And that's okay. He knows we are a team, and we're working toward the same goal. He knows he's safe among us and won't be ridiculed for his failures. He knows they won't be counted as failures, or held against him, or used to define who he is. His "classmates" won't ever tease him, or mock him for that which he attempts -- whether he succeeds or not. He knows that when he does succeed, we'll be there to lift him up in triumph. He knows that when he needs to try again, we'll be there to cheer him on. Of course, he doesn't know how to express it like that. He doesn't even know there is another way to learn, to live. And once more, I'm humbled and thankful.
And again, I've watched another child (wow, there's a lot of children in this reverie!) fly through some tasks and skills with the ease of one who has been doing them for ages, then in turn struggle and wrestle with others. So while the math and the science, the analysis and deduction all come intuitively to him, the self-discipline of staying on task and paying attention, of remembering what he's heard, and remembering that he's supposed to be reading... and paying attention to what he's read... well, those are his special challenges. And I am here, to guide, instruct, cheer, encourage. He'll get it, and it'll be his hard work that gets him there. But I will be there when he does, and I will know just what it took for him to enjoy the savory, rich flavor of a job well done.
The thing that strikes me clearly is that none of this is due to any Phenomenal Educational Training on my part. It's the dynamic of our homeschool. It's the ebb and flow of Life that we've chosen to embrace. It's the Big Picture goals Zorak and I have set for our home, our family, and our children. What they do with the tools we give them is up to them entirely. We hope to teach them to use their tools well, to take care of their tools, and to put them to good use no matter where they go or what they do in their lives.
And in the meantime, we're here. We're modeling. We're learning, striving, failing, achieving. I can't think of a better place for a child to learn than right here, at home.
Tuesday, May 1
Oh, boy!
So I gave the Small Ones the option to stay inside and help me clean, or go outside and play. A no-brainer, I know. Normally, we do work together. I just don't have it in me today to direct traffic, and the house is shot. So, go! Play! Enjoy the day!
Smidge came back in. "Me done playing outside." Oh, yeah? Well, if you come in, you'll be cleaning. "Mmm, okay. Me clean." Heh. Ok.
I got him set up in his room, putting Tinker Toys back in the bucket. Simple enough for a 3yo to do, right?
He comes out, "Look! A sword!"
Yes, honey, that's a nice sword. Put it in the sword bucket, please.
He disappears, only to reappear a moment later with a new creation. "Look! TWO swords!"
Oh, aren't you a handsome knight? You're the Knight of Cleanliness. Put it up.
He starts back down the hall. Stops. Comes running back up the hall. "Me no knight. Me a WARRIOR!"
*chuckle* OK, warrior. Go pick up your things.
"Mmmmm. Nope. Me no knight. Me WARRIOR. Warriors no clean. They FIGHT!"
Ahhh. Well, then. So much for my brilliant child psychology tactics.
Kiss those wee warriors!
~Dy
Smidge came back in. "Me done playing outside." Oh, yeah? Well, if you come in, you'll be cleaning. "Mmm, okay. Me clean." Heh. Ok.
I got him set up in his room, putting Tinker Toys back in the bucket. Simple enough for a 3yo to do, right?
He comes out, "Look! A sword!"
Yes, honey, that's a nice sword. Put it in the sword bucket, please.
He disappears, only to reappear a moment later with a new creation. "Look! TWO swords!"
Oh, aren't you a handsome knight? You're the Knight of Cleanliness. Put it up.
He starts back down the hall. Stops. Comes running back up the hall. "Me no knight. Me a WARRIOR!"
*chuckle* OK, warrior. Go pick up your things.
"Mmmmm. Nope. Me no knight. Me WARRIOR. Warriors no clean. They FIGHT!"
Ahhh. Well, then. So much for my brilliant child psychology tactics.
Kiss those wee warriors!
~Dy
THEY WON!
Oh, and I missed it! But John's team won the game last night. I can't get details from anybody about the game. Zorak came in, fed John a hot dog and then promptly passed out. James just doesn't pay that much attention. John was too excited and exhausted to remember anything. Smidge... well, actually, he'd have been my best bet. But I didn't get to him in time, and something else had already filled in RAM for the night.
So I don't know what happened.
But I do know that John got the game ball. That really made him beam. He's carrying it around this morning. (I don't know if it's a standard tradition, but Coach Paul gives a game ball to one player after each game. He shoots to find something to really boost the children up, through the work and effort they've put into it.) John said, "Mom, I got the game ball for hitting a triple, but I'm not sure what a triple is." Oh. OK. Well, that's a clue, at least. :-)
Happy children. Good stuff. Good morning!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
So I don't know what happened.
But I do know that John got the game ball. That really made him beam. He's carrying it around this morning. (I don't know if it's a standard tradition, but Coach Paul gives a game ball to one player after each game. He shoots to find something to really boost the children up, through the work and effort they've put into it.) John said, "Mom, I got the game ball for hitting a triple, but I'm not sure what a triple is." Oh. OK. Well, that's a clue, at least. :-)
Happy children. Good stuff. Good morning!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, April 30
Monday Evening
This is why I've never done drugs: one minute I'm reading the front of the saline bag, and the next minute a nurse is walking me to the door. I have only second-hand input as to what has happened to me, and absolutely no recollection of the event at all. What a wild sensation! Thank you for the prayers. I'm guessing it went well. That's the first time I've been put under since I was eleven months old.
The staff is delightfully cheerful, and this is perhaps the first time my smart-alec sense of humor didn't get me nasty looks. The nurse gave me the run-down on staying relaxed, putting my feet up, drinking something sweet until the effects wear off, "pretend you're at the spa, okay?"... I laughed and told her I may just be back again next month. Well, after the fact, no, I'm not going back again next month. (God willing.) But Zorak has been wonderful, and I do appreciate it. He kept the little ones comfy and happy and brought me a Vicodin every three hours, and I've slept the day away.
John's second game is going right now. I'm irrationally sad to have missed that, but truth be told, I don't think the bleachers are the best place for me to be at the moment.
And that's about all the brain cells I've got to rub together at the moment. Just wanted to touch base and say howdy. I'm going to go dig up some pudding and a soda!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The staff is delightfully cheerful, and this is perhaps the first time my smart-alec sense of humor didn't get me nasty looks. The nurse gave me the run-down on staying relaxed, putting my feet up, drinking something sweet until the effects wear off, "pretend you're at the spa, okay?"... I laughed and told her I may just be back again next month. Well, after the fact, no, I'm not going back again next month. (God willing.) But Zorak has been wonderful, and I do appreciate it. He kept the little ones comfy and happy and brought me a Vicodin every three hours, and I've slept the day away.
John's second game is going right now. I'm irrationally sad to have missed that, but truth be told, I don't think the bleachers are the best place for me to be at the moment.
And that's about all the brain cells I've got to rub together at the moment. Just wanted to touch base and say howdy. I'm going to go dig up some pudding and a soda!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, April 29
Really Nice Sundays
Andie asked, "Who... is Claudia?" Is she a mystery guest? An "invisible friend"? A fully-developed figment of my imagination? No, although it wouldn't hurt my case any if she'd leave a comment now and then. *ahem* She's real.
If you've read here for a while, you know that we have been fortunate enough to find Wonderful Neighbors in nearly every place we've lived. In Maryland, we had our Wonderful Neighbors and their two Wonderful Daughters. In New Mexico, we had Wonderful Family, and it's a small state. Way, way back in Arizona, we had Wonderful Neighbors Ben & Claudia. Ben went to school with Zorak. Then they moved into the apartment adjacent to ours. We shared a landing, which was handy - just one baby gate at the top of the stairs and all the children had free rein of both apartments and an outside playspace. Well, they live here now, too! They're still Wonderful, but now they live "down the road a piece", so I had to switch to using their normal names rather than the generic moniker of "Our Wonderful Neighbors". They'll probably become a blog staple. I should see if she wants cool nicknames.
So, we've begun a bit of a tradition lately, which I hope they enjoy as much as we do: Sunday Supper. It's not quite the way the Old Timers did it. Or perhaps it is. I'm not sure. It's laid-back, usually a pot luck affair. Today it was a picnic affair, per the requests of the Small Ones. The five boys get to run about and be squirrelly and shake off the trauma of having to be still ALL MORNING LONG. They get to play in the barn, in the creek, in the woods. Claudia and I get to sit in the grass, wondering if we'll have ticks after all this, while the babies free range and graze and trade sippy cups. It's really nice, and hopefully as we gather people, we'll find others who would enjoy coming to our place for Sunday Supper. Door's open, come on over!
We tried the VTC today. Wow. Yes. Tiny. Five people, including the pastor. But the pastor is good. He's wise, but not haughty. He's slightly grizzled, but not in a David Allen Coe sort of way. Good stuff. Everybody made a point of reminding us that they've all done their toddler-time in the pews, and they remember what it's like. One or two parishoners also mentioned that it's great stuff... in retrospect. Everybody was glad to have the children there. The pastor pointed out a room at the back of the sanctuary and said that they'd be happy to start up a children's Sunday School program if we would like. The boys liked it pretty well, although there was no break between Sunday School and the service, and we all could have used a little leg-stretching and a snack. The music is just as bad as it is at the VSC, but they do give it their all. I think my favorite quote from the day came from the pastor, in response to our appreciation for their patience with the children's noise. He said, "I've preached in congregations with upwards of 400 people. I can talk above anything." Gotta love a pastor who can go with the flow! Zorak wasn't feeling 100% this morning, so he stayed home to rest up a bit. I wish he could have gone with us, so we could be more certain, but I think this may be it.
Tomorrow I have to be at the oral surgeon's office at 8:30. (HOW am I supposed to get up, dressed and out the door that early without my COFFEE?!?!?) If you wouldn't mind, please say a prayer for the procedure. I'm feeling like quite the weenie at this point, and a little beat up over this whole mess. Yes, it's minor. Yes, I know, it could be far worse. That doesn't really make me feel any better, though. It only ups the weenie factor. ;-) I'm thankful, though, that Zorak will have the Small Ones. Knowing that they're with him, and all that that entails, makes it easier for me to do so many things with a calmed heart. What would I do without that man?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
If you've read here for a while, you know that we have been fortunate enough to find Wonderful Neighbors in nearly every place we've lived. In Maryland, we had our Wonderful Neighbors and their two Wonderful Daughters. In New Mexico, we had Wonderful Family, and it's a small state. Way, way back in Arizona, we had Wonderful Neighbors Ben & Claudia. Ben went to school with Zorak. Then they moved into the apartment adjacent to ours. We shared a landing, which was handy - just one baby gate at the top of the stairs and all the children had free rein of both apartments and an outside playspace. Well, they live here now, too! They're still Wonderful, but now they live "down the road a piece", so I had to switch to using their normal names rather than the generic moniker of "Our Wonderful Neighbors". They'll probably become a blog staple. I should see if she wants cool nicknames.
So, we've begun a bit of a tradition lately, which I hope they enjoy as much as we do: Sunday Supper. It's not quite the way the Old Timers did it. Or perhaps it is. I'm not sure. It's laid-back, usually a pot luck affair. Today it was a picnic affair, per the requests of the Small Ones. The five boys get to run about and be squirrelly and shake off the trauma of having to be still ALL MORNING LONG. They get to play in the barn, in the creek, in the woods. Claudia and I get to sit in the grass, wondering if we'll have ticks after all this, while the babies free range and graze and trade sippy cups. It's really nice, and hopefully as we gather people, we'll find others who would enjoy coming to our place for Sunday Supper. Door's open, come on over!
We tried the VTC today. Wow. Yes. Tiny. Five people, including the pastor. But the pastor is good. He's wise, but not haughty. He's slightly grizzled, but not in a David Allen Coe sort of way. Good stuff. Everybody made a point of reminding us that they've all done their toddler-time in the pews, and they remember what it's like. One or two parishoners also mentioned that it's great stuff... in retrospect. Everybody was glad to have the children there. The pastor pointed out a room at the back of the sanctuary and said that they'd be happy to start up a children's Sunday School program if we would like. The boys liked it pretty well, although there was no break between Sunday School and the service, and we all could have used a little leg-stretching and a snack. The music is just as bad as it is at the VSC, but they do give it their all. I think my favorite quote from the day came from the pastor, in response to our appreciation for their patience with the children's noise. He said, "I've preached in congregations with upwards of 400 people. I can talk above anything." Gotta love a pastor who can go with the flow! Zorak wasn't feeling 100% this morning, so he stayed home to rest up a bit. I wish he could have gone with us, so we could be more certain, but I think this may be it.
Tomorrow I have to be at the oral surgeon's office at 8:30. (HOW am I supposed to get up, dressed and out the door that early without my COFFEE?!?!?) If you wouldn't mind, please say a prayer for the procedure. I'm feeling like quite the weenie at this point, and a little beat up over this whole mess. Yes, it's minor. Yes, I know, it could be far worse. That doesn't really make me feel any better, though. It only ups the weenie factor. ;-) I'm thankful, though, that Zorak will have the Small Ones. Knowing that they're with him, and all that that entails, makes it easier for me to do so many things with a calmed heart. What would I do without that man?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tech Stuff, General Stuff
OK, it seems there's a hitch in Blogger's comment feature that will only sometimes allow an anon comment to come through to me for moderation. If you've been leaving comments without using a Blogger ID, and they haven't been appearing, and you know that you haven't been swearing maliciously or threatening me (about the only causes I've had to call upon for comment rejection, really)... and now you're thinking I've gone off on some completely unidentifiable, arbitrary moderation system, I haven't. They just aren't coming through. I'll put in a quick question to the folks at Blogger to see if I can fix it. In the meantime, though, a quick heads up that I'm not ignoring anybody.
And just where have we been since Tuesday? Oh, we've been pretending we're a normal family. It's hard work, and leaves Zorak and I absolutely exhausted at the end of the day. The boys are working their way through some sort of tribal rite of passage thing that involves a great deal of "creative use of time". Then I'm forced to engage in the complementary rite of passage known as "running the maternal gauntlet", most commonly identified by the middle-aged woman standing on the porch, screaming into the woods, "Whoever left that THING in the sink had best get back up here and take care of it RIGHT. NOW!" But in general, I believe the New Initiates are giving a good showing, and this will be a good year for the tribe, if not for the sink.
Zorak's been running wires like a... well, like something catchy that I can't put my finger on right now. But he's been one busy man today. There's light in the basement stairwell. Light beneath the stairs, light in the "post apocalyptic storage corner" (ok, pantry) of the basement. There are functional outlets and runs of shiny conduit at appropriate intervals. It looks and functions SO much better now. I've got to say that electrical codes are far more intuitive than I'd ever given them credit for, in many respects. I love it when things that just make sense - three way switches on stairwells, illumination on every step - turn out to be within code. I know, weird thing to get all warm and fuzzy about. Still, it does make me go all warm and fuzzy to have my home eeking its way out of Full-On Condemnation Mode. Also, in spite of the rain we've had lately, we are tickled to announce that the basement only smells like an average basement right now, and is relatively dry. Exponentially more dry than last year this time. WOOHOO!
We're trying another church this Sunday. VSC isn't going to work - it turned out to be of a completely different type than we'd thought. Der, I know. It's listed wrong in the phone book, and if you don't come up to it from the main street, you never see the little sign. It was just a fluke that the Easter bulletin didn't have the affiliation written on it anywhere. Anyway, it's a delightful congregation, but the differences in beliefs between our home and the denomination are just too extreme for us to bridge the gaps. I talked with Wonderful Pastor about our situation this week. He gave me the names of two more churches to try, and said he'd look into some others that might have something in the area that we may have missed. The one we'll be visiting this week we'll call the Very Tiny Church (VTC). According to the gentleman on the phone, it's just two families. Not sure what happened, there. I guess we'll find out, though.
Other than working on the house, working on the parenting, working on the Never Ending Laundry, we've been celebrating the kick-off to Catch Up On Neglected Health Care Month. I don't think it's a National celebration, but it seems to be a big local thing, and we're knee-deep in it. That, of course, makes for hideous blogging unless you are a) morbidly interested in others' health care, b) suffering similar ailments and looking for proof that you aren't alone in the world, or c) really desperate for something to read. So, for those who know what's up with that, all is going well. And for those who don't, that's why I haven't really touched on it. Blech.
And, that's about it in a nutshell. (It was a big nut.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
And just where have we been since Tuesday? Oh, we've been pretending we're a normal family. It's hard work, and leaves Zorak and I absolutely exhausted at the end of the day. The boys are working their way through some sort of tribal rite of passage thing that involves a great deal of "creative use of time". Then I'm forced to engage in the complementary rite of passage known as "running the maternal gauntlet", most commonly identified by the middle-aged woman standing on the porch, screaming into the woods, "Whoever left that THING in the sink had best get back up here and take care of it RIGHT. NOW!" But in general, I believe the New Initiates are giving a good showing, and this will be a good year for the tribe, if not for the sink.
Zorak's been running wires like a... well, like something catchy that I can't put my finger on right now. But he's been one busy man today. There's light in the basement stairwell. Light beneath the stairs, light in the "post apocalyptic storage corner" (ok, pantry) of the basement. There are functional outlets and runs of shiny conduit at appropriate intervals. It looks and functions SO much better now. I've got to say that electrical codes are far more intuitive than I'd ever given them credit for, in many respects. I love it when things that just make sense - three way switches on stairwells, illumination on every step - turn out to be within code. I know, weird thing to get all warm and fuzzy about. Still, it does make me go all warm and fuzzy to have my home eeking its way out of Full-On Condemnation Mode. Also, in spite of the rain we've had lately, we are tickled to announce that the basement only smells like an average basement right now, and is relatively dry. Exponentially more dry than last year this time. WOOHOO!
We're trying another church this Sunday. VSC isn't going to work - it turned out to be of a completely different type than we'd thought. Der, I know. It's listed wrong in the phone book, and if you don't come up to it from the main street, you never see the little sign. It was just a fluke that the Easter bulletin didn't have the affiliation written on it anywhere. Anyway, it's a delightful congregation, but the differences in beliefs between our home and the denomination are just too extreme for us to bridge the gaps. I talked with Wonderful Pastor about our situation this week. He gave me the names of two more churches to try, and said he'd look into some others that might have something in the area that we may have missed. The one we'll be visiting this week we'll call the Very Tiny Church (VTC). According to the gentleman on the phone, it's just two families. Not sure what happened, there. I guess we'll find out, though.
Other than working on the house, working on the parenting, working on the Never Ending Laundry, we've been celebrating the kick-off to Catch Up On Neglected Health Care Month. I don't think it's a National celebration, but it seems to be a big local thing, and we're knee-deep in it. That, of course, makes for hideous blogging unless you are a) morbidly interested in others' health care, b) suffering similar ailments and looking for proof that you aren't alone in the world, or c) really desperate for something to read. So, for those who know what's up with that, all is going well. And for those who don't, that's why I haven't really touched on it. Blech.
And, that's about it in a nutshell. (It was a big nut.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, April 26
They Played!
The rain continued to come down for most of the morning. Then the clouds parted, Noah kicked the animals back off the ark, walked out onto the field himself, and determined it was a fine day for a game. So at 5:30, John's team played their first game of baseball.
We got pummeled. There was an inordinate amount of spinning and picking and leaping out there on our team's part. BUT ya know, I wouldn't trade teams for the world. The team we played against has an uber-competitive coach. They've been focused to win during all this practice time. Win. Win Big. Win Now. And the umpire (referee? the guy calling the shots) turned out to be another uber-competitive guy in the same Circle of Trust as the other team's coach, which didn't help any.
The other team scored two runs on us because of a foul ball the ref. didn't call. It was clearly foul. Our kids didn't make a play with it because they all thought it was dead. The other kids kept running (at their coaches' insistance), and the ref let the runs stand. No, that didn't sit well. But honestly, I don't think John's team would have won even with a fair call by the ref. The other team did have it together, and they played their hearts out. They did a good job, and we cheered the little guys for all their hard work.
Sure, I'd love to see our little guys win a game, but as they work toward that goal, I'm quite happy with the other things they're learning on this team. They even got it together enough in the last inning to pull off a couple of impressive plays. They cheered each other on. When all was said and done, they shook hands with the other team like champs, congratulated the team on a good win, and huddled together for the post-game pep talk. Their coach found a lot of positives to share with them, and they left on a positive note.
I think tomorrow we need to make something for the coaches. Today highlighted just how fortunate we are to have the group we do to model, guide, and in general, compliment the things Zorak and I try to teach every day. I can't say how much it means to know the boys are seeing examples outside the family of the values we hold up as Good. Yep. Good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We got pummeled. There was an inordinate amount of spinning and picking and leaping out there on our team's part. BUT ya know, I wouldn't trade teams for the world. The team we played against has an uber-competitive coach. They've been focused to win during all this practice time. Win. Win Big. Win Now. And the umpire (referee? the guy calling the shots) turned out to be another uber-competitive guy in the same Circle of Trust as the other team's coach, which didn't help any.
The other team scored two runs on us because of a foul ball the ref. didn't call. It was clearly foul. Our kids didn't make a play with it because they all thought it was dead. The other kids kept running (at their coaches' insistance), and the ref let the runs stand. No, that didn't sit well. But honestly, I don't think John's team would have won even with a fair call by the ref. The other team did have it together, and they played their hearts out. They did a good job, and we cheered the little guys for all their hard work.
Sure, I'd love to see our little guys win a game, but as they work toward that goal, I'm quite happy with the other things they're learning on this team. They even got it together enough in the last inning to pull off a couple of impressive plays. They cheered each other on. When all was said and done, they shook hands with the other team like champs, congratulated the team on a good win, and huddled together for the post-game pep talk. Their coach found a lot of positives to share with them, and they left on a positive note.
I think tomorrow we need to make something for the coaches. Today highlighted just how fortunate we are to have the group we do to model, guide, and in general, compliment the things Zorak and I try to teach every day. I can't say how much it means to know the boys are seeing examples outside the family of the values we hold up as Good. Yep. Good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Game Day!
Current conditions as of 4:53 am CDT
Rain
Feels Like: 61°
Barometer: 29.88 in and falling
Humidity: 93%
Visibility: 5 mi
Dewpoint: 59°
Wind: SE 12 mph
Sunrise: 6:03 am
Sunset: 7:28 pm
61°High: 72° Low: 52°
Well, folks, it doesn't look like the big game is going to happen today. It's been raining all night. The field is going to be a mess. The kids are going to be so disappointed.
See the humidity? It's the South. It does that. (Even when it's not raining.) Claudia told me last night that if it gets much more humid, she's going to be homebound. I thought she meant she would be heading for the California desert, but it turns out she just meant she was going to hole up in her home with the climate control. Heh. I don't blame her.
It's seven o'clock, and the house is eerily quiet with everybody gone. No snoring. No snuffling. No shifting in the beds. I wish I was still asleep, but it's going to be a busy day!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Rain
Feels Like: 61°
Barometer: 29.88 in and falling
Humidity: 93%
Visibility: 5 mi
Dewpoint: 59°
Wind: SE 12 mph
Sunrise: 6:03 am
Sunset: 7:28 pm
61°High: 72° Low: 52°
Well, folks, it doesn't look like the big game is going to happen today. It's been raining all night. The field is going to be a mess. The kids are going to be so disappointed.
See the humidity? It's the South. It does that. (Even when it's not raining.) Claudia told me last night that if it gets much more humid, she's going to be homebound. I thought she meant she would be heading for the California desert, but it turns out she just meant she was going to hole up in her home with the climate control. Heh. I don't blame her.
It's seven o'clock, and the house is eerily quiet with everybody gone. No snoring. No snuffling. No shifting in the beds. I wish I was still asleep, but it's going to be a busy day!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, April 25
*whew*
"Hi, Mrs. Dy, this is somebody from the Sparkly New Big-People's Dentist Office. I'm just calling to remind you about your root canal tomorrow at a really inconvenient time."
What? No. NO! It's next week at a really inconvenient time... isn't it? (I really hate that I can't keep these things straight.)
Turns out, it's both days, at equally inconvenient times. (Seriously, it's a root canal, how accomodating can it be?) Pick one! Weee.
All three boys got in today to see New Mr. Good Dentist. (Mr. Please-Please-Be-Good Dentist. Please.) We'll just call him MGD: the dentist, not the beer. He's wild. The office is... wild. On an intimidation factor, it rates a negative number. And he seems pretty competent. But I don't entirely trust myself on this anymore. Previous Dentist seemed that way, too, at first. Of course, all the work the boys had done by Previous Dentist has to be redone because it either a) fell out, or b) wasn't done properly and caries have developed beneath the filling. Lovely, that. *sigh* You know it's bad when MGD starts out giving you his introductory Philosophy of Non-Invasive-Techniques speech,
He also uses euphemisms which caught me a bit off guard. Like when he said, "We need to screw this one."
You what?
"Screw it. You know, p-u-l-l it o-u-t. It just sounds better."
No. It doesn't. Trust me.
Later, while explaining why he does one procedure in two visits, "It tends to cause a little b-l-e-e-d-i-n-g, so..."
Um, they're eight and six. While you *do* spell rather quickly, I'm pretty c-e-r-t-a-i-n they can s-p-e-l-l b-l-o-o-d. But you know, that's a quirk. And it's a thoughtful quirk. And I'm good with that. (Although, for the record, I don't *think* in spelled out words, so if by chance you're reading this Dr. MGD, I'm not a moron, but I honestly didn't see that coming and it took me a while to switch gears. I'd only had one large travel mug of j-a-v-a that morning.)
Tomorrow is Drag Your Spawn to Work Day at Zorak's work. He's taking the three eldest spawn. BabySpawn and I are going to have a busy, productive day, and then we'll all meet up at the secret r-o-n-d-a-y... erm, spot. (You know I'm kidding, right?) The boys were so excited (how excited were they?)
...so excited that it's a good thing I made them go to bed at seven-thirty so they could lie there and twitch for a while before getting sucked into oblivion.
...so excited that even an entire chapter in Eagle dedicated to Marcus' recovery couldn't lull them to sleep.
If they ever give in and get some rest, it should be a fun day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
What? No. NO! It's next week at a really inconvenient time... isn't it? (I really hate that I can't keep these things straight.)
Turns out, it's both days, at equally inconvenient times. (Seriously, it's a root canal, how accomodating can it be?) Pick one! Weee.
All three boys got in today to see New Mr. Good Dentist. (Mr. Please-Please-Be-Good Dentist. Please.) We'll just call him MGD: the dentist, not the beer. He's wild. The office is... wild. On an intimidation factor, it rates a negative number. And he seems pretty competent. But I don't entirely trust myself on this anymore. Previous Dentist seemed that way, too, at first. Of course, all the work the boys had done by Previous Dentist has to be redone because it either a) fell out, or b) wasn't done properly and caries have developed beneath the filling. Lovely, that. *sigh* You know it's bad when MGD starts out giving you his introductory Philosophy of Non-Invasive-Techniques speech,
"At this age, I mostly watch this or that and see if - HOLY CRAP, we've got to get this done PRONTO!"He may not have actually said "holy crap", but then again, he may have. It was hard to follow the flow once he got excited.
He also uses euphemisms which caught me a bit off guard. Like when he said, "We need to screw this one."
You what?
"Screw it. You know, p-u-l-l it o-u-t. It just sounds better."
No. It doesn't. Trust me.
Later, while explaining why he does one procedure in two visits, "It tends to cause a little b-l-e-e-d-i-n-g, so..."
Um, they're eight and six. While you *do* spell rather quickly, I'm pretty c-e-r-t-a-i-n they can s-p-e-l-l b-l-o-o-d. But you know, that's a quirk. And it's a thoughtful quirk. And I'm good with that. (Although, for the record, I don't *think* in spelled out words, so if by chance you're reading this Dr. MGD, I'm not a moron, but I honestly didn't see that coming and it took me a while to switch gears. I'd only had one large travel mug of j-a-v-a that morning.)
Tomorrow is Drag Your Spawn to Work Day at Zorak's work. He's taking the three eldest spawn. BabySpawn and I are going to have a busy, productive day, and then we'll all meet up at the secret r-o-n-d-a-y... erm, spot. (You know I'm kidding, right?) The boys were so excited (how excited were they?)
...so excited that it's a good thing I made them go to bed at seven-thirty so they could lie there and twitch for a while before getting sucked into oblivion.
...so excited that even an entire chapter in Eagle dedicated to Marcus' recovery couldn't lull them to sleep.
If they ever give in and get some rest, it should be a fun day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, April 23
Someone's in the Kitchen With Dy, Now
Because you really needed a cheesy song stuck in your head. With the wrong lyrics, too, huh?
Well, we made it there and back again. The Suburban is now provably legal. (Is that a made up word? It feels like it.) Anyhow, I can't vouch for the pickup, but that's a whole 'nuther post.
The boys were in an awesome place today. Aside from the paperwork and organizing issues, I was in an awesome place today. It was good, all around. We needed a really good day. James got up early, so we had hot tea and played chess. Then I tried to convince him to go for a walk with me. "But MOOOOOOOOOOM, it's FREEZING out!" It is not. Let's go. "OK, let me get my winter coat out..." So, to prove that a hoodie would work just fine, we checked the weather. 64 degrees. "That's practically snowing!" I was going to clear up that little misconception, but by then Smidge and Emily were awake and in need of some snuggles, so James was spared a trek across the Tundra. :-) Funny kid.
We made a fantastic banana bread. I found the recipe at Fitness and Freebies' wheat-free recipes section. And, of course, I modified it a bit. *grin*. If you'd like to see the original, you can find that here. But here's what we did with it:
WF Banana Bread
1 c. flour blend (I use mostly garbanzo, fava, brown rice and a little white rice - just use whatever)
1/4c. teff flour (I've been slipping this into *everything* lately. It's like I've become the neighborhood grain dealer. *psst*, Kid, wanna buy some protein?)
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt (ok, I don't measure a quarter of a teaspoon of anything - that's officially "a sprinkle" in my kitchen)
1 packet gelatin
1/3 c. butter
1/3 c. sugar
3 egg yolks (Trust me, save the whites. They come in later, and you don't want to be staring at the trash, thinking, "Why didn't somebody tell me to reserve the whites?" I'm telling you now.)
1 tsp. vanilla (OK, I'm a bit liberal with my vanilla - I just splash it in til it looks right. Odds are good there was more than one teaspoon in this loaf.)
3/4 c. mashed banana (I used two bananas and figured they'd have to work, whether they made exactly 3/4 c. or not - turned out pretty close. I don't think this is a horribly touchy ingredient.)
1/4 c. plain yogurt (We never have plain. I always forget that I'll need it for baking. I used vanilla. You could also use sour cream. Or even buttermilk. Really, it's your bread. Have fun with it.)
3 egg whites (Preferably the ones you saved from earlier.)
Preheat your oven to 350'. Grease AND FLOUR your pan. I like rice flour. It's the least expensive of the wf options, and doesn't seem to get absorbed by the rest of the batter. Win-win, in my book.
Sift all your dry ingredients into a medium-sized bowl. (If you don't want to sift, you can dump and whisk - works equally well.)
In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar. Add eggs and continue to beat until light. (Seriously, it'll get somewhat fluffy.)
Mix in the banana and yogurt. Blend well. Add dry ingredients. Blend well (yes, again. I know.)
Now, in a small bowl, beat your egg whites until soft peaks form. This is for the texture of the loaf. Once you've got soft peaks, fold the beaten egg white gently into the batter. You don't want to mix it in too much, b/c it's the little air bubbles in the egg white that will pull mock-gluten duty and keep your bread afloat. Just fold it in. You won't end up with a weird quiche-loaf. And if you do, then tell everybody it's quiche-loaf and swear you never said a thing about banana bread. But I've done this a lot and never had to rely on that one.
Turn it all into your pan, smooth the top and pop into the oven.
Clean the kitchen, kick back, read to the kids, and in an hour you're eating delicious fresh banana bread. Tada!
My one and only gripe is that it makes just one loaf, and I've not had a whole lot of success in doubling my recipes. However, I'm going to master this one. The entire loaf is gone, except for the bits that stuck to the pan. (The original recipe says only to grease the pan, but I'd recommend slapping a little rice flour in it, too.)
On the upside, my hand-held mixer finally died today. I usually use it until it starts to emit a burning smell, then switch to the trusty wooden spoon. Today, there was no smell. Just a very loud, obvious clanging... and a slowing... of the beaters... until, finally... they stopped. As the clanging grew disturbingly loud, James looked up from his math and said, "WHAT are you making?" Heh. Yep, that's my boy. So why is that the upside? It means, WOOHOO! (singing) I can buy a mixer now! I can buy a mix-er! We need a heavy-duty one. One with a transmission in it. Yeah, baby!
Lessons, lessons, lessons. Good, good, good. Math, reading, Latin, science. Stories. Snacks. More banana bread. Play time. Errands. 'Nuggles. Laughter. Baby kisses. Toddler hugs. Big kids who still hold my hand while we walk, who still give me hugs for no reason. Even if I'm not holding baked goods. What more could I ask for from the day? Not. A. Thing. Ahhhh. Yes.
Next week looks like it'll be heavy on the doctor visits. Nobody's sick, it's just that everybody needs something at the same time. And when we must do several things at the same time, I realize there are a lot of us. I told Claudia today that I need a personal secretary. She pointed out that I'm kinda-sort Zorak's personal secretary. Oh. Wow, he's getting gypped, then, isn't he? But maybe if I can get him to promote me to "Executive Secretary", then I can start the hunt for an "Assistant Executive Secretary" for ME? Yeah? Think it'll work? Me, neither. But it's fun to pretend.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Well, we made it there and back again. The Suburban is now provably legal. (Is that a made up word? It feels like it.) Anyhow, I can't vouch for the pickup, but that's a whole 'nuther post.
The boys were in an awesome place today. Aside from the paperwork and organizing issues, I was in an awesome place today. It was good, all around. We needed a really good day. James got up early, so we had hot tea and played chess. Then I tried to convince him to go for a walk with me. "But MOOOOOOOOOOM, it's FREEZING out!" It is not. Let's go. "OK, let me get my winter coat out..." So, to prove that a hoodie would work just fine, we checked the weather. 64 degrees. "That's practically snowing!" I was going to clear up that little misconception, but by then Smidge and Emily were awake and in need of some snuggles, so James was spared a trek across the Tundra. :-) Funny kid.
We made a fantastic banana bread. I found the recipe at Fitness and Freebies' wheat-free recipes section. And, of course, I modified it a bit. *grin*. If you'd like to see the original, you can find that here. But here's what we did with it:
WF Banana Bread
1 c. flour blend (I use mostly garbanzo, fava, brown rice and a little white rice - just use whatever)
1/4c. teff flour (I've been slipping this into *everything* lately. It's like I've become the neighborhood grain dealer. *psst*, Kid, wanna buy some protein?)
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt (ok, I don't measure a quarter of a teaspoon of anything - that's officially "a sprinkle" in my kitchen)
1 packet gelatin
1/3 c. butter
1/3 c. sugar
3 egg yolks (Trust me, save the whites. They come in later, and you don't want to be staring at the trash, thinking, "Why didn't somebody tell me to reserve the whites?" I'm telling you now.)
1 tsp. vanilla (OK, I'm a bit liberal with my vanilla - I just splash it in til it looks right. Odds are good there was more than one teaspoon in this loaf.)
3/4 c. mashed banana (I used two bananas and figured they'd have to work, whether they made exactly 3/4 c. or not - turned out pretty close. I don't think this is a horribly touchy ingredient.)
1/4 c. plain yogurt (We never have plain. I always forget that I'll need it for baking. I used vanilla. You could also use sour cream. Or even buttermilk. Really, it's your bread. Have fun with it.)
3 egg whites (Preferably the ones you saved from earlier.)
Preheat your oven to 350'. Grease AND FLOUR your pan. I like rice flour. It's the least expensive of the wf options, and doesn't seem to get absorbed by the rest of the batter. Win-win, in my book.
Sift all your dry ingredients into a medium-sized bowl. (If you don't want to sift, you can dump and whisk - works equally well.)
In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar. Add eggs and continue to beat until light. (Seriously, it'll get somewhat fluffy.)
Mix in the banana and yogurt. Blend well. Add dry ingredients. Blend well (yes, again. I know.)
Now, in a small bowl, beat your egg whites until soft peaks form. This is for the texture of the loaf. Once you've got soft peaks, fold the beaten egg white gently into the batter. You don't want to mix it in too much, b/c it's the little air bubbles in the egg white that will pull mock-gluten duty and keep your bread afloat. Just fold it in. You won't end up with a weird quiche-loaf. And if you do, then tell everybody it's quiche-loaf and swear you never said a thing about banana bread. But I've done this a lot and never had to rely on that one.
Turn it all into your pan, smooth the top and pop into the oven.
Clean the kitchen, kick back, read to the kids, and in an hour you're eating delicious fresh banana bread. Tada!
My one and only gripe is that it makes just one loaf, and I've not had a whole lot of success in doubling my recipes. However, I'm going to master this one. The entire loaf is gone, except for the bits that stuck to the pan. (The original recipe says only to grease the pan, but I'd recommend slapping a little rice flour in it, too.)
On the upside, my hand-held mixer finally died today. I usually use it until it starts to emit a burning smell, then switch to the trusty wooden spoon. Today, there was no smell. Just a very loud, obvious clanging... and a slowing... of the beaters... until, finally... they stopped. As the clanging grew disturbingly loud, James looked up from his math and said, "WHAT are you making?" Heh. Yep, that's my boy. So why is that the upside? It means, WOOHOO! (singing) I can buy a mixer now! I can buy a mix-er! We need a heavy-duty one. One with a transmission in it. Yeah, baby!
Lessons, lessons, lessons. Good, good, good. Math, reading, Latin, science. Stories. Snacks. More banana bread. Play time. Errands. 'Nuggles. Laughter. Baby kisses. Toddler hugs. Big kids who still hold my hand while we walk, who still give me hugs for no reason. Even if I'm not holding baked goods. What more could I ask for from the day? Not. A. Thing. Ahhhh. Yes.
Next week looks like it'll be heavy on the doctor visits. Nobody's sick, it's just that everybody needs something at the same time. And when we must do several things at the same time, I realize there are a lot of us. I told Claudia today that I need a personal secretary. She pointed out that I'm kinda-sort Zorak's personal secretary. Oh. Wow, he's getting gypped, then, isn't he? But maybe if I can get him to promote me to "Executive Secretary", then I can start the hunt for an "Assistant Executive Secretary" for ME? Yeah? Think it'll work? Me, neither. But it's fun to pretend.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Grrrr.
Well, I guess at least they're leaving the mail box alone for now.
Things have developed a habit of not arriving at our mail box, and it's starting to torque me off a wee bit.
Anniversary or birthday cards - sucked into the abyss. Family calling to see why we didn't mention it. Hmmm, never got here. Sorry.
Our tax refund from two different states from *last year* still haven't arrived. "But it was mailed."
Our tag renewal, just called to find out where that went... "Well, it was mailed."
Add to it the arrival of the fraud form from our bank (credit card stolen last month), and yet, no replacement cards tagging along anywhere within a week's delivery of the form. All processed the same day. "Yep, we mailed it."
Gah. I'm frustrated. And now off to drive all the way into town to pick up our replacement tags because 1) they're WAY WAY past needed, and 2) "If we mail these to you and they don't arrive, you'll have to pay again" - oh, pfft. Yeah, I'd love to cough up that much money *twice* for something I cannot control. *sigh* So, we're into town. This isn't the week I really needed one. more. trip into town.
But it'll be okay. We'll get some mango juice for making squishies after ball practice. Squishies make everything better.
Dy
Things have developed a habit of not arriving at our mail box, and it's starting to torque me off a wee bit.
Anniversary or birthday cards - sucked into the abyss. Family calling to see why we didn't mention it. Hmmm, never got here. Sorry.
Our tax refund from two different states from *last year* still haven't arrived. "But it was mailed."
Our tag renewal, just called to find out where that went... "Well, it was mailed."
Add to it the arrival of the fraud form from our bank (credit card stolen last month), and yet, no replacement cards tagging along anywhere within a week's delivery of the form. All processed the same day. "Yep, we mailed it."
Gah. I'm frustrated. And now off to drive all the way into town to pick up our replacement tags because 1) they're WAY WAY past needed, and 2) "If we mail these to you and they don't arrive, you'll have to pay again" - oh, pfft. Yeah, I'd love to cough up that much money *twice* for something I cannot control. *sigh* So, we're into town. This isn't the week I really needed one. more. trip into town.
But it'll be okay. We'll get some mango juice for making squishies after ball practice. Squishies make everything better.
Dy
Sunday, April 22
I can't read that!
Tonight, the Small Ones passed out during AFV, so I told the Big Ones that if they could get ready for bed without setting off flares or fire bombs, we could huddle up in Mom and Dad's bed and read their choice of books tonight.
It worked shockingly well, and the Big Ones piled onto my bed with three books to read. I peeked over the pillows to see... Captain Boldheart (Oh, I love that one!), The Star of Christmas (OK, I can handle that one...) and --
(insert theme music from Psycho, here)
ACK! NO! NOnononononono!
The Littlest Angel!
I CAN'T READ THAT! You *know* it makes me cry. (And it does. It makes me cry every. single. time. I have never, in almost nine years, been able to read that book aloud all the way through. It has always made me cry. I always brace myself and tell myself I can do it, and then the next thing I know, there's snot flying and tears gushing and I have to call in Daddy to finish it.)
At this point, John looks over, "Oh, hey, that looks like a neat book." (Were you not listening?)
So they're in my room now, and James is reading it to John while I hole up clear across the house, with the music turned up loud, so I'm not a blubbering mess when it's my turn to read.
Maybe I should've saved this for a Works for Me Wednesday? "When you just can't do it, pawn it off on the oldest child."
Oh, it's my turn to read. And I'm pretty sure Captain Boldheart won't make me cry.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
It worked shockingly well, and the Big Ones piled onto my bed with three books to read. I peeked over the pillows to see... Captain Boldheart (Oh, I love that one!), The Star of Christmas (OK, I can handle that one...) and --
(insert theme music from Psycho, here)
ACK! NO! NOnononononono!
The Littlest Angel!
I CAN'T READ THAT! You *know* it makes me cry. (And it does. It makes me cry every. single. time. I have never, in almost nine years, been able to read that book aloud all the way through. It has always made me cry. I always brace myself and tell myself I can do it, and then the next thing I know, there's snot flying and tears gushing and I have to call in Daddy to finish it.)
At this point, John looks over, "Oh, hey, that looks like a neat book." (Were you not listening?)
So they're in my room now, and James is reading it to John while I hole up clear across the house, with the music turned up loud, so I'm not a blubbering mess when it's my turn to read.
Maybe I should've saved this for a Works for Me Wednesday? "When you just can't do it, pawn it off on the oldest child."
Oh, it's my turn to read. And I'm pretty sure Captain Boldheart won't make me cry.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Favorite Mother
I did something the other day that I thought was pretty darned cool. I don't remember what it was, now. Probably got us somewhere on time, or without hitting anything on the way. Anyhow, it was cause for celebration.
As I turned off the engine, I said, "Alright, so who's your favorite Mom?" (Yes, a loaded question. I know.)
In UNISON, my two eldest shout back,
"GRANNY!"
...uh... but she's not your mother.
"She's Dad's mom," says Thing 1.
"Yeah, that counts!" Chimes in Thing 2.
Oh. Well, that's not quite what I was looking for, but I'm sure Granny will be glad to know she's loved.
And she is. :-)
(And in the next round of voting, I did, in fact, come in a solid Second. You know, out of two...)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
As I turned off the engine, I said, "Alright, so who's your favorite Mom?" (Yes, a loaded question. I know.)
In UNISON, my two eldest shout back,
"GRANNY!"
...uh... but she's not your mother.
"She's Dad's mom," says Thing 1.
"Yeah, that counts!" Chimes in Thing 2.
Oh. Well, that's not quite what I was looking for, but I'm sure Granny will be glad to know she's loved.
And she is. :-)
(And in the next round of voting, I did, in fact, come in a solid Second. You know, out of two...)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, April 21
Book Update
I am still slowly making my way through Last of the Mohicans. It's enjoyable, but I've been a bit lax with my readings. First, I forgot where I put the book (right there on the bookshelf, with all the other books-to-be-read). Then Claudia mentioned something about the ending and, being the obstinate dork she is, wouldn't tell me what she meant. So I, being the obstinate dork I am, went to the back and read the last four chapters of the book, in reverse order, going far enough back in the story until I could figure out what she was talking about.
And for the first time EVER, I wish I hadn't done that.
I wish she'd have just told me what she was going to say. That wouldn't have ruined the story for me (I know, I'm weird like that. If I ask about how something ends, just tell me. If I thought I didn't want to know, I wouldn't ask. Really. And I don't blab endings to others, unless they're weird like me. I get that.) What ruined it for me was realizing I'd read too far back into the book before I clicked that what she'd meant to not tell me was right there in the last chapter... and so, I kind of ruined some of it for myself by reading too much of the end first.
But I still maintain that there's not a thing wrong with reading the last chapter. Sometimes you've just gotta.
Still reading The Innocents Abroad, and still enjoying, although only in snippets. If I try to take it in bites too large, the flavors begin to go bland, it seems.
The boys and I finished Captains Courageous tonight. The boys were taken in by the quality of Troop's character. They really liked Dan and Harve's relationship. The cook freaked them out a bit. They fell in love with Mr. Cheyne, although they didn't get to meet him until the end. Somehow, Kipling pulled his character together in a way that, although you didn't go to sea with him, you did get to know him in the end. That was fun. John really has a soft spot for Penn. James likes Long Jack. Smidge wants to know when we'll be reading Farmer Boy again.
What next? I'm not sure. Not sure at all. Right now, I have so many things I want to read with them that I find myself a bit paralyzed by indecision.
James and I have been reading Rosemary Sutcliff's Eagle of the Ninth. I'd begun this with him about two years ago, but he wasn't interested, so we laid it aside. Last year, I put it out on his "check this out" shelf, and he showed some interest, but it didn't quite hold him. This time, as a one-on-one read aloud, he's enjoying it much more.
Now I need to find something to read to John one-on-one, as he wants to have that time, but isn't quite ready to follow Sutcliff's book at the pace James needs (truly, any slower, and the book would be dull as dirt, too). Somehow, when you're six, the group read aloud just doesn't have the same sparkly glow to it that the one-on-one time together does.
Together, we are finishing up Memoria Press' Famous Men of Rome, starting Padriac Colum's The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said (a Baldwin Project book, if anyone is interested), The Japanese Twins (another Baldwin Project book), and delving back into daily poetry (now that I've found the box with all the poetry books in it!) Oh, and Jess brought us a copy of Bennett's The Book of Virtues, which has long been a favorite onrent, erm, loan from the library.
Reading with the boys is so good for me. I know I'm mortal. I realize it's very possible my eyesight and my brain may give out before I can read all the books in the world that need readin'! I want to take one deep breath and inhale them all, but the boys, they slow me down. They still think they're immortal and that every book was written just for them. They don't want to inhale it. They want to take it apart, the way you would a big chunk of crumbly, moist cornbread, and savor each and every part of it. Truth be told, it's haarrrrrrrd to slow down. But it's good. It's really good. How many delightful meals would we miss if we swallowed them whole? And why is it that children have an easier time remembering that than adults do?
So, we'll go slow. And we won't get it all. But oh, what we do get to - it'll be wonderful!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
And for the first time EVER, I wish I hadn't done that.
I wish she'd have just told me what she was going to say. That wouldn't have ruined the story for me (I know, I'm weird like that. If I ask about how something ends, just tell me. If I thought I didn't want to know, I wouldn't ask. Really. And I don't blab endings to others, unless they're weird like me. I get that.) What ruined it for me was realizing I'd read too far back into the book before I clicked that what she'd meant to not tell me was right there in the last chapter... and so, I kind of ruined some of it for myself by reading too much of the end first.
But I still maintain that there's not a thing wrong with reading the last chapter. Sometimes you've just gotta.
Still reading The Innocents Abroad, and still enjoying, although only in snippets. If I try to take it in bites too large, the flavors begin to go bland, it seems.
The boys and I finished Captains Courageous tonight. The boys were taken in by the quality of Troop's character. They really liked Dan and Harve's relationship. The cook freaked them out a bit. They fell in love with Mr. Cheyne, although they didn't get to meet him until the end. Somehow, Kipling pulled his character together in a way that, although you didn't go to sea with him, you did get to know him in the end. That was fun. John really has a soft spot for Penn. James likes Long Jack. Smidge wants to know when we'll be reading Farmer Boy again.
What next? I'm not sure. Not sure at all. Right now, I have so many things I want to read with them that I find myself a bit paralyzed by indecision.
James and I have been reading Rosemary Sutcliff's Eagle of the Ninth. I'd begun this with him about two years ago, but he wasn't interested, so we laid it aside. Last year, I put it out on his "check this out" shelf, and he showed some interest, but it didn't quite hold him. This time, as a one-on-one read aloud, he's enjoying it much more.
Now I need to find something to read to John one-on-one, as he wants to have that time, but isn't quite ready to follow Sutcliff's book at the pace James needs (truly, any slower, and the book would be dull as dirt, too). Somehow, when you're six, the group read aloud just doesn't have the same sparkly glow to it that the one-on-one time together does.
Together, we are finishing up Memoria Press' Famous Men of Rome, starting Padriac Colum's The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said (a Baldwin Project book, if anyone is interested), The Japanese Twins (another Baldwin Project book), and delving back into daily poetry (now that I've found the box with all the poetry books in it!) Oh, and Jess brought us a copy of Bennett's The Book of Virtues, which has long been a favorite on
Reading with the boys is so good for me. I know I'm mortal. I realize it's very possible my eyesight and my brain may give out before I can read all the books in the world that need readin'! I want to take one deep breath and inhale them all, but the boys, they slow me down. They still think they're immortal and that every book was written just for them. They don't want to inhale it. They want to take it apart, the way you would a big chunk of crumbly, moist cornbread, and savor each and every part of it. Truth be told, it's haarrrrrrrd to slow down. But it's good. It's really good. How many delightful meals would we miss if we swallowed them whole? And why is it that children have an easier time remembering that than adults do?
So, we'll go slow. And we won't get it all. But oh, what we do get to - it'll be wonderful!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
A Linky of Love
I need a linky for a special post. Mr. Linky's main site won't let me in unless I register first, and let's be honest, I'm pretty maxed out on coming up with another password (and then remembering it).
So, all of the blogs I've seen a Linky on are typepad blogs. Will a Linky work on blogger, too?
Thanks!
Dy
So, all of the blogs I've seen a Linky on are typepad blogs. Will a Linky work on blogger, too?
Thanks!
Dy
Thursday, April 19
I love grey, rainy days
They just make it such fun to look out the window, and snuggle in the dim light, don't they?Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, April 18
General Life Overview
Well, today was better. And I have evidence. Sadly, Blogger's photo utility won't upload anything but little red X's in boxes on blogs. Maybe the photo tech team is working on a new Dr. Seuss-style code?
We found Captains Courageous earlier this week (under the couch! It had gone MIA a while back - I don't know if Smidge hid it in the hope that we'd pick up Farmer Boy again, or what, but there you have it), so we've been finishing that up. I think this is one I'll read again a time or two. The story has enough complexity and development to keep the reader engaged; the characters, enough depth and, of course, Kipling's wry humor, to keep the reader attached.
We don't have the next Dick and Jane book, and John got tired of waiting for a chance to get to the bookstore, so he picked up More Days and Deeds and asked if he could "challenge" himself with it. (What am I gonna say? No, we're not there yet? *snort*) It's a stretch for a new reader, but he sees it as the challenge it is, and he's up for it. We spend his time reading together, one page each. The only concern I have is that the font is *tiny*, so I'd like to see if I can find him something comparable to spend more of his actual reading time on (or possibly find a large print edition of this book). The brain could use a good stretching, but those big brown eyes just don't need any added stress.
James is sort of in his own world lately. I'm not sure what to make of it. He's still very loving, and he still desires to be helpful and diligent. He simply forgets what he was doing and gets distracted. If you gave the Poky Little Puppy some espresso, you'd have my 8 1/2 y.o. son right now. And he's having a difficult time stopping to think before he acts. Sometimes I just watch him go and think, "Oh, my. That one'll never be able to live on his own." Friends who have been there before (and those who just want me to hang in there, even if they don't believe it) tell me it's a phase and it's perfectly natural. I hope they're right, because if nothing else, it's exhausting.
Smidge wants to learn how to read. This does not mean he'll be reading by the time he turns four, of course. (I mean, he could be, but he's not focused on it. It's what his brothers do, and what we do, and it's fascinating; therefore, he wants to do it, too.) Today he spent a good twenty minutes in the tub, making words with the bath letters and then reading them to Baby Girl. They all spelled "eww", according to him. I really love this stage. (It's familiar. The learning curve has shallowed considerably. I know we'll survive it, and he will not be, at the ripe old age of 15, still insisting that "QBEZ" says "eww". When you know what's going to happen, it's easier to enjoy the bizare and unique that makes up childhood. I should take the knowledge I have in the lessons I've learned and apply them to the faith I need to get over the *new* humps and hurdles. *sigh* Yes, I know.)
EmBaby is changing SO fast, and growing SO much. We're *right here*, every day, and yet we still feel like we blink and somebody switches her out for a larger model with more features and optional programs. She's just amazing. And funny. And sometimes I look at her and feel like my heart is there, walking around outside my body... and it's beautiful. So beautiful. And a little snot-encrusted, which I didn't expect, truthfully. But still, so beautiful.
They all are. And when I think about all four of them, in all their unique, quirky, loving, silly, brilliant creation... All I can do is gasp for breath. Where's the Motherhood Nebulizer? The one for all of us who just freeze up when we think of ALL that this life entails, and it's all we can do to draw a breath. I'd love one of those. And while we're requesting special parental medications, how about a Gear Switching Enzyme? Wouldn't it be great to take a few drops of this stuff and *poof* you can slide from MommyMode to KitchenMode in the time it takes to walk to the fridge? Another drop or two when the kids go down and you can downshift from TidyMode to RomanticEveningMode. Man, Bayer Pharmaceutical would have NO trouble getting enough participants to run thorough trials on a drug like that! ;-)
However, since there's no wonder drug on the market, I suppose I'm going to have to rely on Old Fashioned Will Power and Integrity and get myself to bed.
Kiss those babies, and even on the rougher days (or months), remember the mantra:
G'night!
Dy
We found Captains Courageous earlier this week (under the couch! It had gone MIA a while back - I don't know if Smidge hid it in the hope that we'd pick up Farmer Boy again, or what, but there you have it), so we've been finishing that up. I think this is one I'll read again a time or two. The story has enough complexity and development to keep the reader engaged; the characters, enough depth and, of course, Kipling's wry humor, to keep the reader attached.
We don't have the next Dick and Jane book, and John got tired of waiting for a chance to get to the bookstore, so he picked up More Days and Deeds and asked if he could "challenge" himself with it. (What am I gonna say? No, we're not there yet? *snort*) It's a stretch for a new reader, but he sees it as the challenge it is, and he's up for it. We spend his time reading together, one page each. The only concern I have is that the font is *tiny*, so I'd like to see if I can find him something comparable to spend more of his actual reading time on (or possibly find a large print edition of this book). The brain could use a good stretching, but those big brown eyes just don't need any added stress.
James is sort of in his own world lately. I'm not sure what to make of it. He's still very loving, and he still desires to be helpful and diligent. He simply forgets what he was doing and gets distracted. If you gave the Poky Little Puppy some espresso, you'd have my 8 1/2 y.o. son right now. And he's having a difficult time stopping to think before he acts. Sometimes I just watch him go and think, "Oh, my. That one'll never be able to live on his own." Friends who have been there before (and those who just want me to hang in there, even if they don't believe it) tell me it's a phase and it's perfectly natural. I hope they're right, because if nothing else, it's exhausting.
Smidge wants to learn how to read. This does not mean he'll be reading by the time he turns four, of course. (I mean, he could be, but he's not focused on it. It's what his brothers do, and what we do, and it's fascinating; therefore, he wants to do it, too.) Today he spent a good twenty minutes in the tub, making words with the bath letters and then reading them to Baby Girl. They all spelled "eww", according to him. I really love this stage. (It's familiar. The learning curve has shallowed considerably. I know we'll survive it, and he will not be, at the ripe old age of 15, still insisting that "QBEZ" says "eww". When you know what's going to happen, it's easier to enjoy the bizare and unique that makes up childhood. I should take the knowledge I have in the lessons I've learned and apply them to the faith I need to get over the *new* humps and hurdles. *sigh* Yes, I know.)
EmBaby is changing SO fast, and growing SO much. We're *right here*, every day, and yet we still feel like we blink and somebody switches her out for a larger model with more features and optional programs. She's just amazing. And funny. And sometimes I look at her and feel like my heart is there, walking around outside my body... and it's beautiful. So beautiful. And a little snot-encrusted, which I didn't expect, truthfully. But still, so beautiful.
They all are. And when I think about all four of them, in all their unique, quirky, loving, silly, brilliant creation... All I can do is gasp for breath. Where's the Motherhood Nebulizer? The one for all of us who just freeze up when we think of ALL that this life entails, and it's all we can do to draw a breath. I'd love one of those. And while we're requesting special parental medications, how about a Gear Switching Enzyme? Wouldn't it be great to take a few drops of this stuff and *poof* you can slide from MommyMode to KitchenMode in the time it takes to walk to the fridge? Another drop or two when the kids go down and you can downshift from TidyMode to RomanticEveningMode. Man, Bayer Pharmaceutical would have NO trouble getting enough participants to run thorough trials on a drug like that! ;-)
However, since there's no wonder drug on the market, I suppose I'm going to have to rely on Old Fashioned Will Power and Integrity and get myself to bed.
Kiss those babies, and even on the rougher days (or months), remember the mantra:
They're little. They do that.
G'night!
Dy
Why I Didn't Blog Yesterday...
Because I couldn't laugh until today.
Just the highlights, though...
8:30 AM:
"Hey, Mom! Emily looooooves tea!"
- You gave her tea? In a cup?
"*snort* NO. I gave her the tea bag."
9:45 AM:
Smidge cries.
"Smidge somehow got shoved".
- Somehow? Was this, perhaps, a miraculous shoving? Shall we call the papers and the priest?
"Um, no. It was more like he was in our way while we were rough housing. And he hit our bodies with his head. When we landed on him."
- Uh-huh.
9:47 AM:
Smidge, crying again.
- What happened this time?
"Smidge sort of got hit with a bat."
"A bat? In your ROOM?"
"Yeah. It was weird."
10:15 AM:
Well, no, from 10:15 to about 11:00 wasn't bad.
12:25 PM:
"Why do we have to pick up before we can make candy?"
- Do you want to make candy, or not? I thought so.
1:10 PM:
-Does it MATTER who gets that particular wrapper off the floor? There are, after all, THREE OTHERS waiting to be picked up!
2:00 PM:
-OK, gather all the materials on the list and let's gather around the breakfast bar.
2:01 PM:
"Mom, we're out of cornstarch."
- We can't be! (search, search, search) then,
around 2:25 PM -
- I guess we are. Let's pick another project.
"OK. What do we need?"
- I don't know... since you have the list. ;-)
2:28 PM:
*bringing me the baby* "Hey! Look who's up?"
2:38 PM:
We've now finished the changing of the baby, which also included -
1. having to find the wipes Smidge "put away" for me. Seems simple enough. "OK, where are they?" (NO ME NO!) :-) Aww, he's so cheerful about it...
2. wiping the poop from everything the baby could contaminate while we tried to retrieve the wipes
3. sterilizing everybody's hands
I look up to see that James has already. begun. the project.
Without us.
And it's not going well.
"Mom, I don't know what I did wrong."
- *snort* Well, neither do I, since you didn't wait for me.
It was all I could do to usher everybody out before I began foaming at the mouth.
Regroup, try again.
We tried another project, but what was I thinking? I gave up when I turned to see one of them licking the prepared baking pan. By that point, it was after five, the day had been just one weird fire after another, and none of us had any umpf left in us. I sent them outside.
5:35 PM:
(Coming in with a Very Serious Look) "Mom, see this blood?" (shows me a bloody hand) "It came from my head."
- Of course it did. Today, that would make perfect sense.
We cleaned the wounds, fed the children, repaired the kitchen. Eventually, the sun went down, the bodies slowed, tempers cooled...
I didn't fully appreciate it at the time, but we had stories and snuggles in bed. We told jokes, and gave plenty of hugs. We agreed to start over again in the morning, and it was good.
I kissed my babies.
Brushed the hair back from their faces.
Kissed their sweet, sleepy, warm cheeks once again.
Turned off the lights.
Collapsed in bed, closed my eyes, and pretended I was invisible.
Just the highlights, though...
8:30 AM:
"Hey, Mom! Emily looooooves tea!"
- You gave her tea? In a cup?
"*snort* NO. I gave her the tea bag."
9:45 AM:
Smidge cries.
"Smidge somehow got shoved".
- Somehow? Was this, perhaps, a miraculous shoving? Shall we call the papers and the priest?
"Um, no. It was more like he was in our way while we were rough housing. And he hit our bodies with his head. When we landed on him."
- Uh-huh.
9:47 AM:
Smidge, crying again.
- What happened this time?
"Smidge sort of got hit with a bat."
"A bat? In your ROOM?"
"Yeah. It was weird."
10:15 AM:
Well, no, from 10:15 to about 11:00 wasn't bad.
12:25 PM:
"Why do we have to pick up before we can make candy?"
- Do you want to make candy, or not? I thought so.
1:10 PM:
-Does it MATTER who gets that particular wrapper off the floor? There are, after all, THREE OTHERS waiting to be picked up!
2:00 PM:
-OK, gather all the materials on the list and let's gather around the breakfast bar.
2:01 PM:
"Mom, we're out of cornstarch."
- We can't be! (search, search, search) then,
around 2:25 PM -
- I guess we are. Let's pick another project.
"OK. What do we need?"
- I don't know... since you have the list. ;-)
2:28 PM:
*bringing me the baby* "Hey! Look who's up?"
2:38 PM:
We've now finished the changing of the baby, which also included -
1. having to find the wipes Smidge "put away" for me. Seems simple enough. "OK, where are they?" (NO ME NO!) :-) Aww, he's so cheerful about it...
2. wiping the poop from everything the baby could contaminate while we tried to retrieve the wipes
3. sterilizing everybody's hands
I look up to see that James has already. begun. the project.
Without us.
And it's not going well.
"Mom, I don't know what I did wrong."
- *snort* Well, neither do I, since you didn't wait for me.
It was all I could do to usher everybody out before I began foaming at the mouth.
Regroup, try again.
We tried another project, but what was I thinking? I gave up when I turned to see one of them licking the prepared baking pan. By that point, it was after five, the day had been just one weird fire after another, and none of us had any umpf left in us. I sent them outside.
5:35 PM:
(Coming in with a Very Serious Look) "Mom, see this blood?" (shows me a bloody hand) "It came from my head."
- Of course it did. Today, that would make perfect sense.
We cleaned the wounds, fed the children, repaired the kitchen. Eventually, the sun went down, the bodies slowed, tempers cooled...
I didn't fully appreciate it at the time, but we had stories and snuggles in bed. We told jokes, and gave plenty of hugs. We agreed to start over again in the morning, and it was good.
I kissed my babies.
Brushed the hair back from their faces.
Kissed their sweet, sleepy, warm cheeks once again.
Turned off the lights.
Collapsed in bed, closed my eyes, and pretended I was invisible.
Tuesday, April 17
Technologically Challenged
Urk.
So I took the unformatted XD card to Wal-Mart, where they ever-so-helpfully directed me to the photo thingy. You know, the one that makes cheap copies of your Olan Mills pictures for you? Yeah, that thing. Upload, burn to disk, you're good to go. (And no, I do not make illegal copies of copyrighted original materials.) What they not-so-helpfully neglected to point out is that the pictures are burned into a marketing nightmare thirty layers deep, from which you will emerge embittered and probably burdened with Kodak products you never knew existed.
Once you arrive home, if you would like to view, retrieve, or in any way claim ownership of the images on the handy-dandy disk, you have to wade through a butt-ton of Kodak "Easy Share" software demons that want your email address ("makes it easy to share photos with friends and family through email!" Um... as opposed to hitting the "attach file" button, "browse", "attach" and *poof* you're done?), automatically sets itself to your default picture viewer (EVEN if you click on "FinePix Viewer", because you've developed Stockholm Syndrome after being held captive by Fuji's stoopid photo software for so long), and then finally locks down completely after doing something horrible to your existing files, and yet never letting you anywhere NEAR the ones you put on disk.
Where is the "I do not want your services. Please release the images into my control NOW" button? Where!?!?
Bee pictures.
Cute, clean baby pictures.
Awesome FOREVER HOME pictures - the school room (all decked out in kids and jelly beans), the baseboard in the bathroom (which makes potty time a happy time around here), and the latest really cool unidentified plants... all stuck!
I hate Kodak. Believe me, they don't want me to share these moments.
I'm going to bed. G'nite.
Dy
So I took the unformatted XD card to Wal-Mart, where they ever-so-helpfully directed me to the photo thingy. You know, the one that makes cheap copies of your Olan Mills pictures for you? Yeah, that thing. Upload, burn to disk, you're good to go. (And no, I do not make illegal copies of copyrighted original materials.) What they not-so-helpfully neglected to point out is that the pictures are burned into a marketing nightmare thirty layers deep, from which you will emerge embittered and probably burdened with Kodak products you never knew existed.
Once you arrive home, if you would like to view, retrieve, or in any way claim ownership of the images on the handy-dandy disk, you have to wade through a butt-ton of Kodak "Easy Share" software demons that want your email address ("makes it easy to share photos with friends and family through email!" Um... as opposed to hitting the "attach file" button, "browse", "attach" and *poof* you're done?), automatically sets itself to your default picture viewer (EVEN if you click on "FinePix Viewer", because you've developed Stockholm Syndrome after being held captive by Fuji's stoopid photo software for so long), and then finally locks down completely after doing something horrible to your existing files, and yet never letting you anywhere NEAR the ones you put on disk.
Where is the "I do not want your services. Please release the images into my control NOW" button? Where!?!?
Bee pictures.
Cute, clean baby pictures.
Awesome FOREVER HOME pictures - the school room (all decked out in kids and jelly beans), the baseboard in the bathroom (which makes potty time a happy time around here), and the latest really cool unidentified plants... all stuck!
I hate Kodak. Believe me, they don't want me to share these moments.
I'm going to bed. G'nite.
Dy
Sunday, April 15
A Tale of Two Churches
It wasn't the best, or the worst. But it was pretty painful. I'm starting to wonder just how much bribe money it would take to relocate our entire congregation at our Wonderful Church so we don't have to change congregations. Zorak thinks this might be a prime opportunity to just scrap it all and start our own "church".
Last week, we visited what we will call the Very Small Church (VSC):
It's Very Small. Perhaps 30 people there, total, on Easter Sunday.
Quite family-friendly; we walked in and the boys said, "They like kids here! Look! There's a baby in the choir!" And what do you know, there was a toddler hanging out with the choir.
They have the children's lesson incorporated into the service, where the children are called to the front for a short talk. Very sweet. The pew was filled with... a 16-year-old-boy, a 5-year-old-girl, the toddler from the choir, and... our kids. That's a lot of work to put into such a small demographic, but by the same token, it was abundantly clear that we were all welcome there.
The pastor of the VSC was kind. Sweet. Mmmm, what's the word I'm looking for? I don't know. He was a bit nervous, and he told a story about another pastor's first Easter service that he informed us was, "absolutely awful" (at this point, we knew VSC Pastor was not a storyteller, per se), then he tied it in (sort of) to this service... leaving us to surmise that although he's been preaching for at least four years, this was his first Easter service. We think. If not, then all bets are off. The sermon he preached was "different". He did a dramatic first-person narrative. In one tone of voice. Stephen Wright uses more inflection than this guy. Good material, but the delivery was just. not. his. strong. point.
In all, though, a good, solid place. Small, so there's no anonymity. The children aren't likely to get lost in the background noise of a larger group. It's full of love and sweetness. Met a lady who's "new here, too" (she's been here over five years, *sigh*). Judging by the toddler's free reign of the sanctuary during the service, they will have no trouble at all with us keeping our children with us for worship.
Drawbacks? Well, no children's ministries other than the children's talk in the service. Actually, the dearth of children is a bit of a drawback, as well. I'm not sure about the pastor's leadership abilities. He seems very nice, and could very well blow us all away by being a phenomenally strong and intuitive leader. But if so, he doesn't exude those qualities right off the bat.
That led us to try what we'll call the Big Shiny Church (BSC):
It was big.
It was shiny.
Not a hymnal, or a child, in sight.
From 0-3, they want them (the children) in the nursery. From 4-6, they will let them in for the singing, and then they want them in another wing of the building, entirely, for the rest of the service. I'm guessing once the kids hit the ripe old age of 7, they've given up, as we didn't see any in the sanctuary under about 12 years old.
I don't know what they've done with the hymnals.
Great band. Really. I thought the music was a soundtrack until we stood and I could see the drum riser. The music is fresh, polished, and well-done.
The fellowship area looks like the coffee bars in Barnes & Noble. Faux marble, wrought iron, barrista area, inlaid wood tables and gourmet beverages on display. Truly a stunning place. They've thought of everything, down to the soda vending machine by the nursery.
These aren't necessarily drawbacks. The place is huge, and it was packed, so obviously, it's filling a need somewhere. It was just a bit... glossy for our comfort. Like the pages of a magazine.
We suspect the BSC Pastor made a bet with the elders before the service to see how many times he could use the word "sex", or one of its derivatives. "Sexuality," "sexual", "sensually satisfying", "sexually pleasing" (OK, we're starting to understand why they kicked the kids out...) I lost count at 15. I actually began feeling somewhat uncomfortable. We've never heard Sarah (Abraham's wife) raked over the coals with such sexually charged fervor... To hear this man speak, Sarah was the Paris Hilton of the Jewish people.
And, just to keep us on our toes, he made SURE we know that "tired out" is a synonym for "past menopause", "post menopausal", "no longer menstruating".
(sex)
We thought, based on the children's ministries at the BSC (chorus, catechism, weekday activities), that it would be a good place for our children to find fellowship and for us to find the support the church can give in parenting. Instead, it felt more like Vulgaria. You can, however, collect your children from under the tunnels as you exit the coffee bar.
In retrospect, inflection isn't everything... So next week, we'll try the VSC again, with a fresh perspective.
Or we'll start proceedings to start our own church. There'll be coffee!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Last week, we visited what we will call the Very Small Church (VSC):
It's Very Small. Perhaps 30 people there, total, on Easter Sunday.
Quite family-friendly; we walked in and the boys said, "They like kids here! Look! There's a baby in the choir!" And what do you know, there was a toddler hanging out with the choir.
They have the children's lesson incorporated into the service, where the children are called to the front for a short talk. Very sweet. The pew was filled with... a 16-year-old-boy, a 5-year-old-girl, the toddler from the choir, and... our kids. That's a lot of work to put into such a small demographic, but by the same token, it was abundantly clear that we were all welcome there.
The pastor of the VSC was kind. Sweet. Mmmm, what's the word I'm looking for? I don't know. He was a bit nervous, and he told a story about another pastor's first Easter service that he informed us was, "absolutely awful" (at this point, we knew VSC Pastor was not a storyteller, per se), then he tied it in (sort of) to this service... leaving us to surmise that although he's been preaching for at least four years, this was his first Easter service. We think. If not, then all bets are off. The sermon he preached was "different". He did a dramatic first-person narrative. In one tone of voice. Stephen Wright uses more inflection than this guy. Good material, but the delivery was just. not. his. strong. point.
In all, though, a good, solid place. Small, so there's no anonymity. The children aren't likely to get lost in the background noise of a larger group. It's full of love and sweetness. Met a lady who's "new here, too" (she's been here over five years, *sigh*). Judging by the toddler's free reign of the sanctuary during the service, they will have no trouble at all with us keeping our children with us for worship.
Drawbacks? Well, no children's ministries other than the children's talk in the service. Actually, the dearth of children is a bit of a drawback, as well. I'm not sure about the pastor's leadership abilities. He seems very nice, and could very well blow us all away by being a phenomenally strong and intuitive leader. But if so, he doesn't exude those qualities right off the bat.
That led us to try what we'll call the Big Shiny Church (BSC):
It was big.
It was shiny.
Not a hymnal, or a child, in sight.
From 0-3, they want them (the children) in the nursery. From 4-6, they will let them in for the singing, and then they want them in another wing of the building, entirely, for the rest of the service. I'm guessing once the kids hit the ripe old age of 7, they've given up, as we didn't see any in the sanctuary under about 12 years old.
I don't know what they've done with the hymnals.
Great band. Really. I thought the music was a soundtrack until we stood and I could see the drum riser. The music is fresh, polished, and well-done.
The fellowship area looks like the coffee bars in Barnes & Noble. Faux marble, wrought iron, barrista area, inlaid wood tables and gourmet beverages on display. Truly a stunning place. They've thought of everything, down to the soda vending machine by the nursery.
These aren't necessarily drawbacks. The place is huge, and it was packed, so obviously, it's filling a need somewhere. It was just a bit... glossy for our comfort. Like the pages of a magazine.
We suspect the BSC Pastor made a bet with the elders before the service to see how many times he could use the word "sex", or one of its derivatives. "Sexuality," "sexual", "sensually satisfying", "sexually pleasing" (OK, we're starting to understand why they kicked the kids out...) I lost count at 15. I actually began feeling somewhat uncomfortable. We've never heard Sarah (Abraham's wife) raked over the coals with such sexually charged fervor... To hear this man speak, Sarah was the Paris Hilton of the Jewish people.
And, just to keep us on our toes, he made SURE we know that "tired out" is a synonym for "past menopause", "post menopausal", "no longer menstruating".
(sex)
We thought, based on the children's ministries at the BSC (chorus, catechism, weekday activities), that it would be a good place for our children to find fellowship and for us to find the support the church can give in parenting. Instead, it felt more like Vulgaria. You can, however, collect your children from under the tunnels as you exit the coffee bar.
In retrospect, inflection isn't everything... So next week, we'll try the VSC again, with a fresh perspective.
Or we'll start proceedings to start our own church. There'll be coffee!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Too Tired To Blog
It's almost two o'clock. We've just emerged from the basement. The stairwell is ready for us to move the steps tomorrow. (Currently, you walk down the steps, turn toward the back wall, and descend the last four steps facing the Scary Room. To get to the rest of the basement, you've got to wander back under the stairwell and around. We're guessing this stroke of inspiration happened about the same time he - whoever did the work - realized the third support column in the Scary Room wasn't gonna hit the joists, either.)
Six boxes completely emptied. Two big black trash bags filled, and two large boxes of trash. Two donation boxes filled. We started to get cocky in our decluttering, and wouldn't you know it, the next box we opened was just full of stuff we don't want, but is either collectable, or valuable, or simply in too nice a condition to throw out. *sigh* The entire box... (Anybody want a mechanical cooking pig?)
We did find several boxes of the boys' things. They've been set in the middle of the boys' room, as a surprise for tomorrow. Who says Christmas comes but once a year, right?
More brainstorming on the waterproofing and culvert plans.
We need rain barrels. Definitely need rain barrels.
The dog seems to be back to his excitable, yet not-horribly-intuitive self. I think I liked him better when he stayed in one place. He kept stealing stuffed toys from the boxes and running off to dismantle them. Not helpful. Or cute.
Thus rounds out the less glamorous *snort* side of home repair. Still, good stuff. At least there are no crickets this year!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(Drat. Zorak just informed he that he did see one cricket. So I'll modify that, "At least I haven't had to deal with crickets this year! WOOHOO!")
Six boxes completely emptied. Two big black trash bags filled, and two large boxes of trash. Two donation boxes filled. We started to get cocky in our decluttering, and wouldn't you know it, the next box we opened was just full of stuff we don't want, but is either collectable, or valuable, or simply in too nice a condition to throw out. *sigh* The entire box... (Anybody want a mechanical cooking pig?)
We did find several boxes of the boys' things. They've been set in the middle of the boys' room, as a surprise for tomorrow. Who says Christmas comes but once a year, right?
More brainstorming on the waterproofing and culvert plans.
We need rain barrels. Definitely need rain barrels.
The dog seems to be back to his excitable, yet not-horribly-intuitive self. I think I liked him better when he stayed in one place. He kept stealing stuffed toys from the boxes and running off to dismantle them. Not helpful. Or cute.
Thus rounds out the less glamorous *snort* side of home repair. Still, good stuff. At least there are no crickets this year!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(Drat. Zorak just informed he that he did see one cricket. So I'll modify that, "At least I haven't had to deal with crickets this year! WOOHOO!")
Friday, April 13
Meet Balto the Wunder Dog
He is the Source of, well, of a lot of things. You may have seen him in such pictures as...
Autumnal shots of the children, playing the part of "Dogzilla, The Rampage"
Or,
Playtime in the yard photos, doing his Gladiator role.
His cameo crotch shots would make the leading stars in *ahem* a certain industry blush.
And there's been no stopping him. He. Never. Quits.
Until Sheba came along. If I had any technology skills at all, this is where I'd post a photo montage along with audio of Flock of Seagulls singing in the background,
And then they left. And he tried to go with them. But none of us evil humans could understand his angst. He circled the van, waiting for one of the Small Ones to give him an opening, any opening, through which to join his Precious.
That was Tuesday afternoon. It is now Friday, and he's looked like this ALL WEEK LONG:
He occasionally varies the location of this pose, say, onto my feet, or the boys' laps. He even tried the living room chair once. But for the most part, he is the image of heartache.
They Broke My Dog!
Poor Balto. (He misses you, Sheba!)
Dy
Autumnal shots of the children, playing the part of "Dogzilla, The Rampage"
Or,
Playtime in the yard photos, doing his Gladiator role.
His cameo crotch shots would make the leading stars in *ahem* a certain industry blush.
And there's been no stopping him. He. Never. Quits.
Until Sheba came along. If I had any technology skills at all, this is where I'd post a photo montage along with audio of Flock of Seagulls singing in the background,
And I ran, I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day. I couldn't get away.
And then they left. And he tried to go with them. But none of us evil humans could understand his angst. He circled the van, waiting for one of the Small Ones to give him an opening, any opening, through which to join his Precious.
That was Tuesday afternoon. It is now Friday, and he's looked like this ALL WEEK LONG:
He occasionally varies the location of this pose, say, onto my feet, or the boys' laps. He even tried the living room chair once. But for the most part, he is the image of heartache.They Broke My Dog!
Poor Balto. (He misses you, Sheba!)
Dy
Homeschool Field Trip Today
That would be the only reason I'm up, showered and dressed right now. Barely beat the sun in rising.
We're going to see bee hives. Thankfully, it's cold, so I'm hoping the little critters will be s-l-o-w. Kinda like I am right now. That'll make us evenly matched.
The boys keep asking the strangest questions, too:
Can you get stung in the exact same spot twice? (Theoretically, yes. But you won't.)
What happens if you get a wasp sting on top of a bee sting? (I have no intention of finding out.)
Why don't wasps make honey? (?? I don't know!)
Do you think we'll make them angry and they'll swarm us and we'll die? (Lovely thought, but no. I don't.)
It could happen. (Would you stop chaneling my mother and eat?)
Do you think your mother's a ghost now? (Ugh. OK, I set myself up for that one.)
We leave in an hour and a half.
What was I thinking?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We're going to see bee hives. Thankfully, it's cold, so I'm hoping the little critters will be s-l-o-w. Kinda like I am right now. That'll make us evenly matched.
The boys keep asking the strangest questions, too:
Can you get stung in the exact same spot twice? (Theoretically, yes. But you won't.)
What happens if you get a wasp sting on top of a bee sting? (I have no intention of finding out.)
Why don't wasps make honey? (?? I don't know!)
Do you think we'll make them angry and they'll swarm us and we'll die? (Lovely thought, but no. I don't.)
It could happen. (Would you stop chaneling my mother and eat?)
Do you think your mother's a ghost now? (Ugh. OK, I set myself up for that one.)
We leave in an hour and a half.
What was I thinking?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, April 12
About the bed
Andie asked (because otherwise, I'd have *never* brought it up, of course!) how the bed handled company. Well, like I said, we really like these folks and so we took the risers off. (Which doesn't mean if you come to visit and there are risers on the bed, that we're inclined not to want you back. It means we've managed to create non-life threatening risers. Or, probably, at least.)
And so, there were no collapsing incidents. And no injuries. They even left the room tidied and almost the way they found it.
Almost...
Did ya see that? How about a close up?
So... I'm guessin' they had a pretty good visit.
And so, there were no collapsing incidents. And no injuries. They even left the room tidied and almost the way they found it.
Almost...
Did ya see that? How about a close up?
So... I'm guessin' they had a pretty good visit.
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