Accomplishments, Big and Small

Big:

The pickets are up on the balcony. Changed the *whole* look and feel of it. Will try to get pictures. Someone's going to have to remind me to post before and after pics, though, because my brain isn't working properly. (I'm also working on obtaining grant money to prove my hypothesis that humidity clogs the synapses.)

Dad's old desk - circa 1940's, awesome, Ed Harris as a gov't agent, heavy, wood desk - has now been cleaned, refinished, runners sanded and waxed, and reassembled. Due to The Way I Do Things, it is already covered in stuff.

Basement progress is picking up speed. Zorak headed to the recycling bins with an entire pickup bed (long bed, at that) full of flattened cardboard boxes. The erstwhile contents are now shredded compost material, loaded up for a trip to the donation store, or filed away neatly.

AND, I vacuumed the basement.

Yeah, no kidding.

FOUND the disk for the camera upload software. Thankfully, as that model has been discontinued and Fuji no longer has any disks in stock. Big old vampire-killing silver bullet dodged, my friends. *whew*

Uploaded the 422 pictures we've taken since switching computers.

Most of them are blurry nostril shots, courtesy of the SmidgeCam.

Little:

Um, still can't figure out how to use Photoshop Elements. Not for a lack of trying. Must push harder on that grant money.

And, on a rather obscure note, we (the kids and I) cleaned out "the pen boxes". Picture, if you will, 70 years of writing implements shoved into desk drawers, all collected and bound in cardboard during various moves, just waiting for us to one day be so desperate not to have to go outside that we scrounged up scrap paper and plunked ourselves down on the floor to doodle our way through the pile. A surprising number of pens still worked. The totally, irrationally exciting part, though, is that we found two fountain pens!! You may not know this, but I have a teeny tiny obsession with stationery products. So, when I discovered they still have ink in them, and they work, and learned the histories behind them, and fondled them, and figured out that you can buy ink pots, and, and, and...

well, you just can't end a day of cleaning on a better note than that.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's not all nosebleeds and starting fluid

But it's felt that way.

We pretty much slept through Sunday, although we kinda-sorta made it to church. None of us was rested up. The Adults were a little off our game (namely defense), and the Littles were on FIRE. We sat in the back, which was a bad call, as EmBaby refuses to believe Pastor is talking to *her* if she cannot see him. She talked, hummed, sang the whole time. I suggested to John that perhaps she has Pentecostal blood. (The story being fresh in his head of the time I took my strict Southern Baptist mother to a FourSquare Pentecostal service, and the prophecy of the morning seemed directed pointedly at her, he got it.)

Zorak got even later on, though, when Jase started throwing things (mostly hymnals and Bibles, since I don't have a purse to ransack) into the aisle before I could react, and John had to bury his head between his legs to keep from cracking up. Zorak whispered to James, "Pretend we don't know them." Honestly, we are not usually an irreverent wrecking crew. We probably should have just slept in, in retrospect, but we were trying to the right thing. We hope to make it up at the pot luck this Sunday.

The rest of the week has been a bit of a blur. John's had a few nosebleeds, which is weird, since he's not a bleeder, really. We stayed home from the art-oriented reading thing, since we figured nobody would appreciate an impromptu exercise in hazmat containment. I keep checking him for other symptoms. Any symptoms. So far, nothing, but if it keeps up, we brave the malarial swamp to see the Wonderful Doctor.

EmBaby, Jase and I, all three, seem to have developed some kind of pre-summer narcoleptic superpower -- able to fall asleep at the slightest provocation any time between two and five. Thankfully, I haven't gone down while they're still up. But it's a struggle. I can only envision the Bigs taking wild advantage of that by eating all the chocolate chips in the pantry and playing video games until their eyes pop from their heads.

James has a new hobby. He's taken to mocking my first attempt at starting the car, loudly (and somewhat humorously, to be honest) wondering why I don't just pop the hood, spray it, and *then* try, instead of going the long way around. If I had a good reason, I'd share it with him. Totally irrational hope. That's all I've got. We thought we'd found a good replacement vehicle, but it turned out not to have the third row seat. Three of the five children balked at the idea of riding on the bumper buddy (Smidge thought it sounded fun), so we figure that extra seating is somewhat integral to the new car criteria. Still looking. :-)

And the days just keep coming and coming. I've got to go in for the follow-up on Joe tomorrow. (Thank God they called to remind me, or I'd have been wondering around mid-August if maybe I wasn't forgetting something.)

Meanwhile, the garden keeps on growing. The compost-raiding raccoons keep getting fatter. The pears are coming along beautifully and seem to have stopped dropping at a horrifying rate. The "blueberries" sign is out at the intersection. (We don't know for sure what's down there, and that's literally all the sign says, "blueberries". We suspect there is a pick-your-own farm somewhere down that road, but nobody in town seems to have been there. Ever. It's a bit odd, but now our curiosity is piqued.)

We did have a wonderful experience last week, though. The Suburban wouldn't start (not the wonderful part), and the starting fluid was empty (definitely not the wonderful part). I called down to the corner store to see if some kind soul would be willing to drive a can to us. (Because yes, we do live in the wonderful kind of small town where you can do that.) The sweet gal at the corner got off in a few minutes, and ran us up a can. *happy sigh* That's the wonderful part. It's nice to know you're only as stranded as the nearest helpful soul, isn't it?

I've heard it said it'll be the little things that break you, and to some extent, I think that's true. But I also believe it's the little things -- the humor, the kindness, the grace, the encouragement -- that get you through, and put it all in perspective. So, blurry as this week's been, it's been full of the right kind of little things, and that's good stuff.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Nine, not just a daydream, anymore.

John is nine. He has never been so happy to be a new age as he is to be nine. It's funny, though -- in my heart, he sort of hovered at five-ish, or six. But, no. He's kept on growing, changing, maturing, all the way to nine. He's huge. And still wonderful.

To celebrate, we had a BBQ. We invited a few families over for the day, and had a truly, completely, utterly delightful day of it. It was such a success, actually, that Smidge said he wants, "the same people, the same, exact group," to come to his birthday BBQ.

We're so thankful for the friendships we've all made. Good friends, which take time to develop. New friends, slowly growing into Good friends. Roots, going deeper and growing richer.

The kids ran down to the creek, up to the meadow, all over the balcony. They played video games for a bit (it was 97 degrees, and eleventy-hundred percent humidity outside - they appreciated the reprieve from the weather), then ran back out and shot their bows for a bit, ran amok a little more. The kids were funny and energetic and polite, and they tumbled from one thing to another seamlessly, moving from one activity to another either in one large lump or a couple of smaller herds. We were really impressed with how well the kids meshed together, and I know Me-Tae and I had just as much fun watching them play, as they did playing.

Granny was still here for the party, and I'm sure it was nice for her to see that the children don't spend all their time locked in a dungeon, doing school work and sweatshop labor. Even when you know that's not how it is, I think you still worry a bit when you live so far, and your son and daughter-in-law have adopted some offbeat lifestyle quirks. So, it's probably nice to meet the friends who influence your children and grandchildren. Plus, we enjoyed showing her off. She's a Very Cool Granny.

So now, having been duly celebrated and christened into being nine, he's feeling pretty big. Pretty happy. Pretty good. Last night, as he drifted off to sleep on the twitchy haze of a great day, he told Zorak it was his best birthday, ever. That's always nice to hear. Every year is special and precious, but for a parent, it's more momentous than the children will ever know. One year older, one year wiser, one year closer to the fledgling years. *sniff*

Next up, Smidge. But I have a couple of months to brace myself for that, thankfully.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And then a week later...

Good heavens, where has the week gone?

Granny, brother-in-law, and his friend left tonight for a straight 20-hour drive home. It was hard to see them go, but the friend is anxious to be home. In the week he's been gone, his family has been under evacuation for wild fires, he had a ton of work come into his shop, and then one of his littles fell ill with a mystery illness. If you would, please say a prayer that they'll arrive home, safe and sound, with good tailwinds to urge them on.

I can't believe how quickly the week flew! The kids had a wonderful time, wallowing in Granny's affections. Granny had a wonderful time soaking up the children and all their joyful love. Zorak and I accomplished an unbelievable amount of work, since Granny was able to make sure the children were not starving, or killing one another, or dismantling the foundations of the house while we worked.

Granny said next time she comes, she's coming in April. Or January. Or the middle of the night. Whenever it's not hot'n'sticky. Poor Granny.

We got the first half of the stain on the balcony (seven hours of squatting, kneeling, and stooping -- my thighs feel like I've been chased cross country by Susan Powter), and we put up the first 80-thousand or so pickets. It's very nearly Jason-proof, if he stays in the corner that's finished, anyway, and looks spectacular. If you look in the corner that's finished.

We cleared enough limbs and vines and brambles from the creek bank that we unearthed a little sandy, beach-like area. It's full of dragonflies and spring frogs and birds. It's shady and quiet. We sat down with the kids, and it was so idyllic that it took an act of God to get us up and moving again. (Mosquitoes, to be precise.)

We hung a tire swing down by the barn. The kids have played more on that this week than they have on the swing set in the back yard in the last two years.

We found a bridge! There's a bridge across the creek! Four years here, and I'm pretty sure I never knew that. Zorak knew, and he swears I knew, but it didn't ring a bell with me, at all.

So, we're making more progress on the property. And I seem to be delving into early senility. Good to know.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

On reading, flasks, and limbs

Zorak was gone all last week. You'd think we'd have taken that time to be productive and industrious. Or get out and explore. Or maybe even blog. No? Good call. We did nothing. We ate, read, cleaned a bit, read some more, ate a bit while we read, napped... we accomplished a little less than diddly, without any squat. It was heavenly.

But he's home now, and Granny is coming. The kids are beside themselves with anticipation. They're also lobbying for a calendar that's marked off in hourly increments, so they can tick those off, instead of having to wait for an Entire Daaayyyy to pass, first. The wait is killing them.

Meanwhile, the preparations are killing me. Not so much for Granny (although I do want to have the house clean for her, she knows I'm no Donna Reed, and I'm lucky to have a mother-in-law who is coming to see us, not the house). Moreso because Zorak's brother is bringing a friend-we-haven't-met-before. And while you don't mind family seeing your general squalor, it's a totally different thing for a stranger.

Come to think of it, I wonder if that's why he's bringing a friend? That's a pretty good way to make sure the accommodations are tip-top, eh? Hmmmm. I need to find a stranger for our next big trip...

Either way, it worked. I finally (almost a year later...) got the elastic and velcro on the couch slip cover. Might even wash it, if I'm feeling motivated tomorrow. And while I had the couch upside down, I was able to talk Zorak into fixing the broken leg. (Happy Coincidence, or Brilliant Design? You decide.)

OK, happy coincidence. You know us well, my friends.

ANYway. The Summer Reading Kick-Off was not bad. They had a ventriloquist who focused mostly on books, stories, fairy tales, etc. He was engaging, and good with the kids. Just as I was thinking we'd get out without a visit from the Bad Idea Fairy, they passed out otter pops immediately after the performance. Otter Pops. For the kids to eat *inside* the library. I made our kids put them back while we made our book selections, and then twitched my way across the library, watching all the other kids slurping, dripping, and flinging their way amongst the books. Why not set the cooler by the door, and hand out the goodies as people leave? Thinking about it still makes my eye twitch, almost a week later.

I'm toying with the idea of taking the kids to Shakespeare on the Mountain. They're doing The Merry Wives of Windsor, set in 1950's Miami, "with tributes to American TV Classics". I'm not a purist... but, evidently I'm close. I can't quite get excited about this one. Still haven't made up my mind. There are only two more show dates, though, so I've got to decide soon. James would love it, regardless. John might enjoy it. Smidge is happy, no matter what we do, as long as he's involved. Or gets a passable alternative to enjoy.

One would think, considering the amount of decluttering I've done (not last week, but today, at any rate), I'd have found my camera software. But, no. It looks like I'm going to have to call and beg them to send me a new disk. Maybe they can throw in a better filing and storage system, while they're at it? That'd be handy.

OK, morning comes early when you don't get to bed until it's on the porch.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Gah.

The Summer Reading program start date is upon us. The last few years, it wasn't too bad. Required no actual changes on our part, other than simply recording what we read, instead of just reading it. OK. But this year, they're requiring that we attend some hohah twice a week. And they're doing "themes" each week. Themes? Is this tied to the reading, or is this simply something "new" from the enthusiastic librarian? They've released no actual information, but it looks like it's just "something new"! (New librarian. Very enthusiastic. Perhaps overly so. *shrug*) I had no intention of doing it, but they put up ENORMOUS signs all over town. And, since two of five can read, well, I'm stuck.

I'd rather just stay home, read books, make our own pizza. For one thing, I'm always up for a reason to buy more books! For another, it's hot out there, why not stay in?

And getting back to the themes thing... arts & crafts (because I just don't have enough junk laying around my house), movement (in a tiny, one-room library, I'm thinking this is not the best activity), music (I'd rather stay home and read, or introduce the kids to John Prine...), and finally storytelling and drama (ah! the only one that's conceivably connected to reading!) Twice a week, they want us there. This may cause me to miss the old plan, which was pizza coupons for our local pizza joint. I never thought I'd look fondly on those days.

Lest you think I'm getting cynical, a little background on that. Our local pizza joint has... some serious issues. Their buffet is smaller than your average apartment kitchen counter. And yet, it takes up a huge proportion of the eating area. Not really a big deal, just don't order the buffet. But they love to have karaoke nights (complete with equipment that takes up the remaining space and makes getting to the bathroom an Olympic track event). And sports nights (creating a unique "surround sound" atmosphere, accomplished by turning the volume on each cheap TV up to full-on distortion level). They leave the doors open, so you freeze in the winter and have to battle the flies in the summer. If they hired a guy to pee in the corner occasionally, it would be a lot like being in NYC on a major holiday.

So, if you need something to do today, swing by the library. I'll be the one in the corner, twitching and trying to hide the flask.

Scouts and Ball

That's it. See you the end of June.







OK, I'm kidding. It's nearly over. But that's not too far off from what our schedule has looked like the past month.

Smidge's team took their Division Championship today in a back-to-back gruel-a-thon. 15 minutes between games! (Who scheduled that one??) But they hung in there, and nobody puked. Hallelujah! They play for the County title on Tuesday, and, being five and six, they are excited about that, when you mention it. But for the most part, they are focused on having a Team Party! PAR-TAY! WOOHOO! Partypartyparty...

John's team went all the way to the County Championships this year. They played their wee hearts out, and they have coaches who are all about doing your best -- that's a winning combination, no matter what the scoreboard looks like. We have a team of boys who have just thrived under that guidance, from the ones who hustle like there's no tomorrow, to the ones who still can't quite manage to make the bat connect with the ball, they are a team. And they did well. They lost the final game today, placing second in the County, and maintaining their Division Championship status. That is one tired bunch of boys. Thankfully, next up on the schedule is the Team Party! PAR-TAY!! (Yes, some things don't change, no matter how old they get.)

James and John had Cub Scout camp this past week. To them, it was an amazing, magical, wonderful, fun-filled week. To Zorak and I, it was something entirely different, entailing transportation schedules, an inordinate amount of laundry (who assigned the *one* t-shirt they give the kids as the daily uniform for camp? Obviously, not the person who does the laundry), and a lot of seemingly wasted time. Adults look at things through a completely different set of lenses, don't they? I know that's how it should be, or nothing much would ever get done and humanity would die off from starvation and the fumes from dirty laundry. Still, sometimes I think it would be wonderful to look at opportunities through the Kid Lens rather than through the less-thrilling GrownUp Lens.

Maybe a combination? Perspective Bi-focals, for all of life's opportunities? Think there's a market for that?

We better get on the R&D for those, because the boys now want to have their own Camp in the upper meadow, complete with tent camping, cooking on the fire, and athletics. Smidge informed me tonight that "Dad gets to come, too!" Heh. Gets to...

I'll let you know how that goes.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Others

Man, we lived the life of Other People yesterday - the Other People who are always on the go, always heading to another place. No wonder so many people are cranky! They don't have time to stop and smell the silk flower arrangements, or curl up for a few chapters in a good book "just because", or to sit down around the dinner table and enjoy the good company necessary to ensure good digestion. It's safe to say that we would not make good Other People. We don't move that quickly, and it's hard to move-and-read without getting hurt. And we truly need our familial gathering time, or all gastro breaks loose.

James and John have Scout Camp this week. They are having a blast with it. I am a little ooked out by having to pack lunches and send them out the door at 7:30 in the morning. No AM piano practice? No coffee on the balcony, listening to the practice? No jokes over breakfast? (Well, there are jokes, but not ones that make any sense. The Littles are funny in a different way, Charlie Brown.) 90% of the noise in the house is... gone.

John had a tournament game last night at 5:00. In another town. This was actually doable, except that he was so tuckered out from Camp that he fell asleep on the ride home, stumbled into the house and slept on the couch until I sent him to get his uniform on. He staggered back to his room and fell asleep on a bean bag. (I'm pretty sure he just fell over, and remained where he lay.) By some miracle, he got dressed and loaded both self and bat bag into the car. Then he curled up and slept all the way to the ball park in another town. DANG. That was one. tired. boy!

He played a great tournament game. Since it was just he and I, I got to sit up front with the other team Moms, and cheer until I went hoarse. I've never been able to enjoy a game like that before. We didn't get home until after 8:00! That's a 12-hr day! Yuck!

Thankfully, today is only be a short day. James asked if they'll at least be reading. I didn't tell him that it's all part of our evil plan, to make them want to read and study, even when it's not a formal part of their education. That might make him suspicious of all the books on the shelves... (but I am glad he likes a little light routine - that's good for the clutter, not to mention the soul). We'll walk by the creek (now that we can reach it), and we'll enjoy a nice, long supper together, followed by a little reading before bed.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Weekend To Remember

The first words Zorak spoke this morning were, "I'm getting old, aren't I?"

And men say we ask no-win questions? I wish he'd just asked me if his jeans make his butt look fat. I mean, technically, yes. (On getting old, not looking fat. He looks great. And I know better than to ask - either question.) The whole birthday observance does tend to note such an accomplishment as surviving another year. That yearly survival thing is tantamount to getting older.

But on several levels, I do wish he'd be a bit more cheerful about it. First, it beats the alternative. Second, um, I'm not far behind, and I'd rather not face my ensuing birthdays with the fear that he thinks I'm getting old. Gah. Way to set the bar, honey. Happy Birthday.

Zorak half-jokingly confided that he has a plan to arrive 20 minutes late for church, which puts us in about halfway through the opening prayer. PCA'ers do love their corporate prayer, that's for sure. We nailed it today, and slipped in (as quietly as seven people can slip into a completely silent room that has no sound dampening). Church was lovely. You know you have a good preacher when the verses are Genesis 46:8-27, and he can actually make an interesting, applicable sermon out of it.

We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince ourselves that we should go out and work. But it was "warm" out. And when it stopped being "warm" (yes, I'm using euphemisms), the "vampires" were out. So. We stayed inside and worked. Hung out. Played a bit. It was, after a holiday of sorts, right?

James lost a tooth this weekend.
John lost two teeth this weekend.
Smidge is just dying of anticipation over tournaments and the team party.
Jason FINALLY started walking today.
Emily is one tired child, trying to keep up with her brothers.
AND, I have to find the disks for my camera, because this computer doesn't have the stuff it needs to upload pictures from the camera or the memory card. So, no pictures just yet. (If you know where I've put it, though, please shoot me an email, okay?)

And so ends another weekend. As usual, we did not accomplish all that we hoped we would. We did accomplish the important things, though - time with the kids, and getting the skivvies washed for the week. Good stuff, that.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Non-Agrarian Report

I don't know why we're doing this. I really don't. Zorak's pretty good at it, but what made him think I would be of any benefit is beyond me. The man obviously didn't marry me for my farmwife skilz.

There's a tree, down in the meadow, a huge, sprawling tree, that's been left to its own devices for such a long time. After "the mowing" (accompanied by "the twitching", and that one point where a blackberry bramble came up behind me and stuck me in the neck, and I nearly flew right up over the front of the mower, thinking I'd been nailed by a cottonmouth...) well, after all of that, and a few days to recover what's left of my dignity, I realized the tree is no longer nestled into anything, but stands proudly in the middle of the meadow.

It could have quite a bit of character, I thought. If properly trimmed, it could offer more than just a place for ticks and snakes and whoknowswhat to hide, but it could also provide a shady place to the babies to play (but not with the snakes), and for us to rest during the hot summer days.

So once again, my flights of imagination overruled my common sense, and I got out there with trimmers and clippers and a saw. I'll get pictures today. I swear to you, I think it's a poison ivy TREE. I kid you not. John was with me, and I warned him to stay away from the poison ivy. But then we noticed it was everywhere. Then we noticed it was not growing *on* the tree, it was growing *out of* the tree. As if it were the tree. Huh. Weird.

Since I haven't reacted to poison ivy yet, I set John loose to hack down the stuff the mower couldn't take down (it is so nice to have a child proficient with a machete, weird as that may sound), and I got to work. Got all the lower limbs, got the suckers off, and then I scaled the tree to start working on the upper portion. All was well, until I realized the tree was absolutely *covered* in little bitty caterpillars. And spiders the size of my thumb. And poison ivy vines. Not a realization you want to come to, twenty feet up in the air.

I'll skip the part about calling for a spotter, but I will say Zorak has learned a lot about working with the less-capable in the field. He remembered to warn me before he grabbed hold of my leg to steady me. Heaven knows I might have panicked and scrambled up to the top of the tree, thinking I'd been nabbed by a rare Alabama Python! And it's hard to blog from the top of a tree.

The children have also learned to at least wait until Mom's back on the ground before you start snickering. Although John did offer to go up for me next time.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Saturday

Well, that was odd. Tried to hit "enter" and posted an empty post, instead. And here, I thought I'd had enough coffee to get started today!

The boys are off on a Cub Scout hike. Three miles in the mountains. It's a gorgeous morning, and both Zorak and I are railing a bit against the fact that I'm the one who loves early mornings, getting out of the house on Saturday, hiking, (he just... doesn't) and yet he's the one co-opted to go this morning. I suggested we all go, but the idea of carrying Jase and EmBaby three miles in the mountains didn't really appeal to either of us. Then I thought perhaps I could go, and he could stay, but the boys expect Dad to go, if he can. Plus, he enjoys seeing them enjoy themselves. That's one of the things parenthood does: you do things you may not enjoy, just for the smile on the children's faces. It's a wonderful kind of selfishness that makes me love him all the more.

And so, the Smallest and I are home, wondering what to do next. I hate the thought of tilling or mowing with only the Littles. Maybe we'll just go dig. Or prune. Or gather limbs for a bonfire. Or maybe just ride around the property on the wagon? Since Zorak fixed the Little Red Wagon, we've had a lot of fun hauling children and limbs and more children and the occasional plant.

What to do with a quiet Saturday morning?

So late! Not sleepy!

It is a sick bit of humor, this whole technically not being nocturnal thing. Gah. And it only gets worse as summer approaches. (Although today, I had to give kudos to Zorak and I. It is the end of May, and there we sat, side-by-side, out in the yard, not complaining. Four years ago, by the end of May, we'd stopped venturing outside at all, let alone for leisure.)

Thank you for the great food ideas! I'm excited about trying some, and y'all got me lookin' for fun and feeling groovy. (I'm also trying desperately to get another song out of my head, so please forgive any further random lyric placement. It's all I've got, unless I want to go wake up one of the kids and make them talk to me of other things until it goes away.)

Zorak is the KING, folks. He rocks, and somehow, some way, managed to get the mower running. (And, as an added bonus, it now seems to be impervious to my diabolical efforts.) I mowed for two and a half hours. My butt is still numb, seven hours later, but the lower meadow looks almost great! Best. News. All. Week.

In his spare time, he has also been building me a pantry shelf for the basement, to replace the plywood and plumbing tape one we scabbed together two years ago. That one served us well, but it's a little ugly. And, being comprised mostly of scrap, it's a little saggy at this point. This new one's purty. And strong! It has a metal screen back, and doors up top, and will fit everything from coffee cans to five gallon buckets to coffee bags to canned goods and even those little sacks of coffee beans. To celebrate, I think I'll do groceries tomorrow!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Productivity and Ruts

Sometimes, I have no idea how we accomplish anything at all. It's just sort of a mystery, to be honest. And yet, we had a productive day, and are looking to have a productive rest-of-the-week. It's a mystery I'll take!

The mower is now working again. So says Zorak. I will believe it when I've mowed more than a quarter acre with it and haven't broken it (again). Why, yes, I am starting to develop a bit of a complex regarding my effect on lawn equipment. Bless him, he says it's not my fault. Every woman should have a man who is willing to say that. Even if there is nothing to indicate that it's true. It's still Very Sweet of him.

Speaking of my Very Sweet Man, I need some summer meal ideas. Normally, we have a full repertoire that we enjoy eating, enjoy preparing, the whole shebang. But lately? Meh. On all counts.

When I have a plan for supper, it usually leaves Zorak thinking he should have hit the buffet for lunch that day. He is never, ever ungracious about it, but you can just feel the disappointment radiating from the phone as he manages to choke out, "Oh. Yeah. That'd be fine." It's deflating, for both of us.

Of course, when I figure we'll just wait 'til he gets home and then figure it out, that's the day something exploded at work, or didn't get signed in triplicate, or whatever, and he never had a chance to eat lunch. (Considering he does not eat breakfast, this means he arrives home ready to eat laminate flooring and wash it down with cold bathwater, if necessary.) Also somewhat deflating.

If this could reasonably be called "a rut", we are stuck in it. I suspect we are too close to it (or not hungry enough yet) to sort through it quickly and subjectively. Everything we came up with that sounded remotely good for the next two weeks' menu centered on wintery, thick, body-warming meals. Probably not "just the thing" for heading into Southern Summer. So I thought I would beg for help from my fantastic readers.

Help?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hoo boy.

Autumn Ridge Nursery.

We're going in.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Man, alive!

Today was one of those sumo wrestler days. One of those skulking, sumo-gone-bad, street thug wrestler days that began with a cranky repairman, a vomiting toddler, and an attack of stream-of-consciousness monologue torture from one of the children. Thankfully, we are a crafty bunch and we managed, by working together and refusing to take ourselves too seriously, to slip away from the insanity and survive somewhat unscathed.

The weather was absolutely gorgeous ALL DAY! As a result, the kids accomplished very little in the way of school. They'd no sooner finish a chapter or a review, as they'd slip out to frolic in the trees and meadows. Granted, I can be a bit of a slave driver when necessary, but even I didn't have the heart to drag them back inside on a day like today. There'll be plenty of time to work in August, when none of us wants to move.

Tonight it's downright chilly. I'm tempted to sleep on the balcony, happily shivering into the early morning hours, if only because I know that come August, cool nights will be only a taunting memory, right alongside the days of choosing to be outside in the afternoons. Of course, since I cannot think of a way to explain my cold, dew-covered, balcony-dwelling self to my Beloved, I'm opting, instead, to stay up far too late with the doors open and the fans on, in the hope of luring the cool air into the house. I'm too cold to type well, but it feels SO nice!

I called and got the specs on sending the camera in for a cleaning and repair, so it'll go out Thursday. Hopefully, it'll soon be back and functional, and I got PHOTOSHOP ELEMENTS and cannot *wait* to try it out! (It was a Very Thoughtful Gift. I'm hoping to manage to get some frame-quality pictures out of it, to have done up nicely and given as a Thank You. That sounds so lame, written out, but in my head it sounded better than a pint jar of apple butter...)

And that's about it. Smidge's team won today's game. No more ball 'til Thursday, so we plan to work like industrious little farmers between now and then. TONS of gardening/farming/Forever Home news, but it will have to wait until I'm done reveling in the joy of being chilly just one. last. time.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Fences and Neighbors

Either our neighbors are going to have to get a grip on their chickens, or they are going to have to accept a certain amount of depredation on them. Either way, something's got to give. The chickens scratched the tea garden to pieces. They also went nuts on my oregano plant. I think that whole section of the yard is now in shock.

As I patted the plants back into place and put the mulch back where it belongs, I found myself thinking dark thoughts, like chicken stock and chicken casserole and chicken taxidermy.

We got everything put to rights, though, and then enjoyed the rest of the day. Church was lovely, and nobody fell asleep. We came home to rain, off and on, so we did pretty much nothing other than play Quiddler, watch a movie, and do laundry. Zorak grilled during a break in the cloud cover, and we enjoyed kabobs and beans for supper.

One wouldn't think one would be quite so wiped out by such a low-intensity day, huh? Surprise! I'm beat! And so, to bed.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Life in the Spring: Ball and Gardening

Mondays through Fridays:
Wake, eat, study, eat, baseball, eat, bed.

Saturdays:
Wake, eat, baseball, baseball, baseball, eat-until-we-pass-out.

Sundays:
Wake, eat, church, work on the Forever Home, eat, bed.

This is why monks don't usually blog. It's very difficult to make that much unyielding routine sound interesting.

John's team finished their regular season today. They ended the season 10 and 3, a respectable finish. Tournaments begin at some unspecified point in the future, and they're a strong team going into it. I think they've got their eyes on the Championship. John really wants to see his name on a banner at the fields. :-)

Smidge's team is sitting at 8 and 1, with a make-up game to be played tomorrow. They have Unspecified Tournaments, too. Hopefully at the same fields as John's team. Then we're done. For the Spring. Fall Ball registration starts during the Tournaments, though.

Right now, Smidge says he wants a break (he loves his Mama), and John says, "Of COURSE I want to play Fall Ball!" (I tell myself he still loves me...)

We've had total failure on both apple trees this year. No clue what happened, but there's only one apple between the two trees. The pears are thick, but now we're getting "June drop". We suspect they're too heavily laden to handle the load. I don't know if it's too late to fix that. If it will ever stop raining (and we aren't at the fields when it's not raining - farmers cannot play baseball, that much we've learned), we'll thin the fruit and fertilize and see if that helps. Regardless, we've definitely decided to add more fruit trees to the Forever Home. Hopefully, a wider variety of fruit will help offset bad years like this.

James put in a tea garden. He started with just three plants, but hopes to have about six or seven varieties once he gets it established. It's darling, and we're looking forward to enjoying tea from the garden!

We have herbs in, and the Earth Boxes are planted with peppers, tomatoes, and lettuces. (I know, it's a little late for lettuce. Like I said, baseball and farming... not so much for the unorganized.)

OK, ok, you got me. It's us. We just don't know what we're doing, and we aren't organized enough to multi-task efficiently. Ah, but at least we're learning as we go, and enjoying the company along the way. That's something, right?

We'll be back to our regular, less-routine routine soon!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Too Good Not To Share

Got these from Me-Wa (Ward). Some of them made me laugh so hard!

1. AVOID CUTTING YOURSELF WHEN SLICING VEGETABLES BY GETTING SOMEONE ELSE TO HOLD THE VEGETABLES WHILE YOU SLICE.

2. AVOID ARGUMENTS WITH THE FEMALES ABOUT LIFTING THE TOILET SEAT BY USING THE SINK..

3. FOR HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE SUFFERERS ~ SIMPLY CUT YOURSELF AND BLEED FOR A FEW MINUTES, THUS REDUCING THE PRESSURE ON YOUR VEINS. REMEMBER TO USE A TIMER.

4. A MOUSE TRAP PLACED ON TOP OF YOUR ALARM CLOCK WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ROLLING OVER AND GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER YOU HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON.

5. IF YOU HAVE A BAD COUGH, TAKE A LARGE DOSE OF LAXATIVES. THEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID TO COUGH.

6. YOU ONLY NEED TWO TOOLS IN LIFE - WD-40 AND DUCT TAPE. IF IT DOESN'T MOVE AND SHOULD, USE THE WD-40.. IF IT SHOULDN'T MOVE AND DOES, USE THE DUCT TAPE.

7. IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT WITH A HAMMER, YOU'VE GOT AN ELECTRICAL PROBLEM.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Truly Exciting Day

Zorak headed off this morning to keep the world safe, and the mortgage paid (he's got mad multi-tasking skilz) while the Small Ones and I got to lounge about, reading literature and discussing Latin declensions (we do not multi-task, which is why it took us all morning).

It got exciting later, okay?

We had one of those Gosh-Why-Can't-They-Schedule-Games-Around-Sibling-Groupings evenings, when Smidge had practice in town, and John had a game at the same time, out of town. Gargh. We have trouble finagling those even when we're both in town (mostly because Zorak and I waste a good hour trying not to make eye contact while we both pretend we don't mind driving "all the way down there", knowing full well we'd both rather be home in our sweats, watching Netflix - so, it takes us a while to draw straws and get on the road). Since there was only me to avoid making eye contact with... um, myself... I called on the kindness of John's coach to let John hitch a ride to his game in Falkville (the town that takes its baseball Very Seriously), so that Smidge wouldn't have to be abandoned at the park for some unknown period of time while I fine-tuned the Cellular Transporter and Astral Travel Machine.

OK, no, I don't have a Cellular Transporter. Or an Astral Travel Machine. Though that'd be pretty durned cool, wouldn't it? I do have a Cellular phone, though. And we hit the ATM. Oh, and starter fluid, which I pretty much need 80% of the time, now, if we actually need the Suburban to get somewhere. Anyway. After Smidge's practice, we headed down to catch what I thought was the last 15 minutes of John's game.

I was So. Wrong. They were at the top of the fifth (they only play five innings, so, theoretically, the end of the game). The field was muddy, the ball was muddy, the bats were muddy, and the kids were muddy. It was nasty, and I can't believe they played. (I told you they take their baseball Very Seriously!) The score was 1-0, Falkville. Dang. That's so... wait, what's this? Four runs! Wow. Nice!

Falkville came up to bat and got three runs. Score's tied.

(Does this mean we can't go home yet?)

Why yes, yes it does.

THREE innings later, the game ended with a single run. 5-4, victory for John's team. Even James, who pays NO attention to the games, was riveted to the fence. I don't think I've ever seen two teams scrabble so hard for every little run, every out, every play. I'm tellin' ya, every child on that field today should be proud of what he accomplished. It was amazing. We didn't get out of there until 8:30!

We piled back in the Transporter. And, it failed to transport us. The miraculous starter fluid even failed me. Finally, we had to get a jump to get going. Then, that wasn't enough - the Suburban choked and died backing out of the parking space, and we had to get another jump. Gah. How embarrassing. In the dark. 45 minutes from home. At night. With all those kids in the car. And did I have snacks? NO, we ate them while waiting for Smidge's practice to end! Talk about lack of foresight. We really must procure a replacement vehicle soon. And hide more snacks in the car.

I need to take some Thank You Goodies to the wonderful friends who hauled a child, and the other wonderful friends who bailed us out of a pickle. Yup. Wonderful People. We are Very Fortunate, indeed.

We have to go back tomorrow, for Smidge's game, and I don't wanna!

We came home, ate hummus and pita bread, and everybody crashed. I think Smidge may have fallen asleep with floss still stuck in his teeth. That was one tired bunch of kids! This Mama is tired, but wired, so I do think I'll curl up with some ice cream and a Netflix and decompress before turning in. Sounds like a plan!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Rained In

We planned to go to church this morning.

But the creek is right at the upper edge of the drive.

It's raining... still raining... looking to rain even harder by lunchtime.

It'd be no fun at all to get out, but not be able to get home.

And so, we're rained in for the day.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Springtime

We have glasses full of flowers all over the house. It's beautiful. Tulips, roses (well, A rose - the first rose of the season), irises, and whatever those things are EmBaby's holding. They've lasted the longest. I suspect that's because they have the roots still on them. The dandelions don't last long, but everybody's made a wish, now. The clover are on the porch, much to EmBaby's dismay, but they make James so sick. So, clover bouquets on the porch were a compromise.

It's beautiful, and it smells nice. But we're running low on drinking cups.

Maybe I'll ask for a couple of vases, and more Mason jars, for Mother's Day?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

They're Back

I think they brought the laundry for the whole Troop home with them. There's no way they took this much on their own. Is there?

Yesterday, we waded back and forth through the sea of laundry and sleeping bags. Between lessons (which must be done) and stories about the camporee (which we wanted to do), the boys had to hustle to find John's uniform and enough other clothes to do a load of darks (bless the mother who picked his team's uniform this year - all black! So easy to keep looking nice.) He had a game last night, and Mama isn't doing their laundry until after Mother's Day. (I don't mind doing the wash, but I do mind re-washing clean things that nobody can be bothered to put away. Since discussion did nothing, I figured I'd take the old-fashioned route and go with action. They are learning that laundry is Not Fun, and you really do not want to Make More if you can help it.)

Today... we have plenty to do, but would you believe I cannot think of any of it? Guess it'll come to me, eventually.

One of the things I enjoyed over the weekend was the quiet. But one of the things I realized upon their return is that the noise - and oh, there is a lot of noise - is mostly the kids making each other laugh. It's Good Noise. It's the kind of noise you take for granted unless you stop moving, stop fretting over dishes in the sink, and shoes on the floor, and socks in the kitchen, and listen. But when you listen, you can't help but smile. And contribute to the noise, yourself. And it's wonderful.

So, it's noisy here, again. But I am so glad for it.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Up Too Late

But for a good reason: I'm on vacation!

Well, not really a pack-the-bags-and-go-on-a-cruise vacation. But even Official Vacations aren't like that. Not now. Or, um, ever. No, this has been a vacation-of-sorts. A parenthetical vacation. Just a little break from the routine. Zorak, James and John are at a camporee, and they're having a wonderful time (or at least the boys are), and truth be told, so am I.

It's been a bit of a decadent little treat, really. I've had a day and two nights of relaxation. An ease in the laundry load. Everybody (else) in bed by a reasonable hour, as everybody (else) ought to be. Time alone, with nobody filibustering (which I can appreciate), or making lewd comments (which, truth be told, I also appreciate, but on a totally different level). *ahem*

But still.

My Inner Introvert has been fairly starved as of late, and it's been so unbelievably nice to have a little down time. (I had ice cream!) (With sprinkles!) (That I didn't have to share!) Nice to watch a GURL movie without comments from the peanut gallery. (Wives & Daughters) Nice to clean the kitchen and find it still clean the next time I need to use it. (Stop me if I'm sounding pathetic, okay?)

I'm nearly done re-reading Fellowship of the Ring. In more than three-page chunks. (It makes so. much. more. sense!)

As frivolous as all this sounds, the Littles haven't been neglected. (Quite the opposite, actually, as this is a break with them, not from them). We've played dominoes and watched movies, read stories and told jokes. EmBaby, Jase and I sat through Smidge's baseball game and cheered him on. EmBaby and I and chased down the water bottle Jase kept tossing beneath the bleachers. We had peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and steamed cauliflower with supper (they picked - I prefer broccoli, but they love the White Trees). We ate candy canes, just because they found a box of them. They've been a joy and a delight all their own on this little vacation of ours.

And in the morning, the Big Guys will return, and it will be wonderful. Perhaps EmBaby may then believe me that they haven't been shipped off for good (she didn't seem terribly convinced after they left). We'll hit the ground running in our loud, noisy, messy way. And that, too, will be wonderful.

I won't even mind giving up Zorak's side of the bed. (much)

But now, to bed, or I will mind how quickly the sun comes up when one's vacation comes to an end!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Easter Pics

Hey, look - Easter pictures posted before the Fourth of July!

Jase finally overcame his fear and loathing* of the grass...

To be replaced by utter curiosity. (Hey, Mom! Did you know there's stuff living in here?)

EmBaby loves all things "flower", and there is no such thing as a weed, if it will flower.

We had more fun than one would imagine possible in such a small space, but it was such a beautiful day out (and we got there early - a total fluke)

After the service, since everyone was relatively clean, awake, and all in one place, we thought we'd shoot for trying to get everyone facing the same direction...

AND, we got it.

(Though EmBaby insisted on the Victory Pose. We took eight shots, and she's standing like this in every one. Ah, may she always be that comfortable in her own skin.)

THEN, since there were Other People there, while we were all, as I've pointed out, relatively clean, and kind of facing the same direction, we thought we'd try for a family shot.

It almost worked. :-)

This was our first year celebrating Easter without company at the Forever Home, and it was quiet, and odd, but coming on the heels of the Month of Ills, we didn't have time to gather the Loved Ones. The big boys did get to help the Easter Bunny this year (John worked up to that one by asking, "Mom, does the Easter Bunny know Santa?" He's a clever one.) And we enjoyed our church family tremendously. It was a beautiful day, in so many ways.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy
*bonus points if you know the reference

Tea Party in Huntsville

The kids and I donned our civil disobedience garb (I kid - we just wore sensible shoes) and trekked to downtown Hunstville for yesterday's Tea Party. The police were out in force, but the biggest problem they had was keeping everyone within the boundaries of the area we'd reserved for the rally. We weren't being difficult. It's just that the turnout was fantastic, and the area we had available to us was just a might-bit packed. It was a sardine rally! Next time, we need a larger venue. The capitol building, perhaps?

We started out in the Way Back. I had Em in the stroller and Jase in the sling, and wasn’t up for wedging ourselves in. I've no desire to relive younger, concert-going days. (Not to mention, the fear I had of knocking over a sweet old lady and becoming the Problem Child of the Rally.) The big boys, however, wanted to *see* what was going on. So, they edged their way to the front. They didn’t have to edge very hard. The crowd happily let them through, and they ended up in the front row, with perfect seats to the whole thing.

They were close enough to read name tags (which I know they didn’t do, because when I mentioned to Zorak how great Dale Jackson’s emcee work was, they both said, “THAT was Dale JACKSON? COOL!”). So many things are wasted on the young, like having those big ol’ eyes and being short enough that people happily let you stand in front.

There were so many great signs, and so many friendly, encouraging people. And I really need two or three more arms. And another set of eyes. And... yep. I missed so much, just trying to make sure Smidge and Em didn't wander off to become Statistics. (My knees still ache a bit just thinking about that.) After the protest, though, I gave John the camera and turned him loose.

Everybody was helpful, friendly, and encouraging. This is the kind of change we need. The question now is whether we can keep the momentum up long enough to make it to the next Congressional Election.
Anyway, it was everything you’d expect from a rally attended by people who are big on Personal Responsibility. No vandalism, no rioting, no random fights. (Even the enthusiastic pack of Ron Paul supporters behaved quite well.*) We had to disperse much sooner than we were ready, but folks had to get back to work, and the permit for the space expired at one-thirty. However, it was great to see people from different groups all talking animatedly as they left, sharing ideas, arguing points, sharpening one another's thoughts, and lifting each other up.

Good stuff. The kids are ready to do more. And that, too, is good stuff.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

*About the Ron Paul supporters: awesome bunch!! It was the running joke, even amongst themselves, that they were the "rabble rousers", what with their unbridled enthusiasm and rampant humor. The volunteer security guys laughingly said if that was the worst of their worries, they were in for a very easy day. Completely awesome turnout from the Ron Paul crowd!!*

Weirdness and Landscaping

I've leapt into a worm hole. A time warp. Perhaps some kind of little cubbie in space. Whatever it is, I swear I'm only getting 3-4 days out of a week! Unsettling.

We've been working on the land. Currently, we're turning the lower meadow into an aquarium. Two or three more days of rain, and I think we'll be ready to bring in the sharks and rays. Pretty exciting.

We've also hired Zeus' Tree Trimming and Electrical Service to handle those pesky dead limbs we can't quite reach. A few more storms and we should have that all cleared out, too. (If the storms and rain coincide nicely, we could have everything done by the end of April.) Now if I could harness some random force of nature to actually plant the blueberry bushes and nut trees. And mulch the back yard.

In the meantime, the wasp hives are churning out new generations of wasps quicker than anyone would ever have thought imaginable! (said in a rather tense, squeaky voice) Our hope is that once we get the hang of raising wasps, bees shouldn't scare us a bit. And, just for the record, "Organic" is a lousy way to kill things. I'm on a hunt for some Organic Agent Orange, or Organic Sarin Spray, perhaps. That'd be handy.

Eh. *shrug* Stranger things have happened.

And that's 'bout it, here. Baseball keeps getting rained out (hence, our new aquaculture program in the lower meadow). I *heart* Amazon, and am looking forward to next year's literature winging its way here, box by smiling box. Tomorrow's going to be psychotically busy. And today looks to be just beautiful!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Communication and Loopholes

So Smidge came in this morning to ask if he could use the hatchet to cut kindling. I gave him the standard song and dance (you can use the hatchet when Daddy is home, and only when Daddy is home and supervising. There is no using of the hatchet when Daddy is not home.) We've been through this. I just don't think it's wise to have ER trips for subsequent children for the *same* *exact* *injury*. Really, it seems like such a reasonable boundary.

But, being Smidge, he needs to really "get" what I'm saying. So he says, "Um, so are you saying we can't use the hatchet?"

Me: Yes.
Him: So nobody can use the hatchet?
Me: Yes.
Him: Only you can use the hatchet?
Me: Yes. (Yes, for the love of God, yes!)
Him: Oh. OK.

He walks out, and as he hits the foyer, I hear him talking to himself,

"OK, so it looks like we can only use the machete."

*blink* Somehow, I don't think we were having the same discussion. And yes, the irony of today's photo being part of the SmidgeCam upload is not lost on me.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Photo Trouble

We finally got around to slapping a little cake in front of Jase and singing "Happy Birthday". We took pictures, even. Unfortunately, at the moment, the computer refuses to recognize the camera. So. They're stuck on there for a bit. Or until I give up and take the card to Target. Like I need another disk laying around for the kids to play air hockey with? The last upload, however, had some fun shots. So, until further notice, all photos on this blog will be provided courtesy of the SmidgeCam.

This particular photo is the last remnant of our time outside before this freak cold snap kicked in. Sometimes it pays to be procrastinators, since we didn't have the entire garden up and running yet. (Now to overcome inertia, and not wait until the end of May to put it in! That may be a bit of a challenge.)

We're once again oh-so-thankful for the wood stove. The freak cold snap doesn't hurt so badly when there's fire. Mmm. Fire. (said in my best Homer Simpson voice)

Plus, on the Uber-Positive side, we're in need of propane! This is fantastic! We haven't had a fill since October! Seven months, and we used less than 150 gallons of propane. Theoretically, with a 500 gal. tank, we could go at least a year and a half (maybe two, with some minor adjustments) between fill-ups. That's a warm-fuzzy, if anything is. And we owe it all to our beloved wood stove. (She needs a name, I think. We'll call her Maggie, short for Magnolia, which could be considered her given name.)

Today we've read and studied, fed Maggie, and read some more. We've made muffins and biscuits and drawings. Poor Zorak had to go out in this weather. But he does that so we can do this. And we appreciate it more than words or actions could say. I think we'll at least try, though, by having something warm and comforting ready for the table when he gets home tonight.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Monday Monday

Where'd this cold front come from? Freezing tonight and tomorrow night! Those-Who-Live-Here have already begun using the flat surface of the stove to hold stuff! Guess what I'll be doing today? Yes, moving that stuff... to other flat surfaces. One day, I will have a home with no flat surfaces, anywhere. Everything'll be rounded off, or just pointy. It will be delightful.

In Other News, we officially have a "farm". We're putting in water to the barn! Not that we have crops down there (the okra didn't make it), or animals (nothing's died down there. yet.) but we will have water! This little improvement greatly increases the odds that future endeavors down there will not die. Always a plus on a farm.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

ThursdayFridaySaturday

One Big Blur.

Rain. Sun. Yay. Rain. BigScaryStorms. Hide. Rain. Sun. Yay. ACK - baseball.

Jase is getting the Sideline Sibling Trial by Fire. He'll handle it better when the weather warms up. Or when he can walk. Or maybe next year. Something like that.

That's pretty much how the rest of the week went. Thursday, the schools all let out at noon, in anticipation of the storms. When the schools let out early for weather, none of the community rec activities are allowed to continue. I made the boys' day by cancelling our school when I got the call. They thought that was great, as we still had several good hours to play outside before the storms hit.

Today is Sunday. We plan to make it to church. But it's nearly eight, and I'm having a hard time waking people. Oh, sure, they'd get up if I asked them to. I just don't want to ask them to. It's so quiet. The birds, the rooster, the morning glow. Just me, a cup of coffee, and you all. It's so peaceful.

And did I mention quiet? Now that everyone is well, we don't so much have the Quiet anymore. Mixed blessings, and all that.

EmBaby owns the baseball fields - just ask her. She can navigate to and from any field at any time. She thinks she's All Grown Up, able to go to the Snack Shack and the Playground on her own. All the other kids do it. Why can't she? *sigh* Well, Mommy has this odd quirk about thinking three-year-olds should maybe still have the occasional parental oversight, honey. Sorry.

James, on the other hand, does have a lot more freedom. He's nearly 11. He checks in. He comes back if something weird happens. He loves taking his own money to the Snack Shack, finding acquaintances from previous years, telling jokes and sharing stories. He doesn't leave the fields, or go looking for trouble. (I still check in on him when he's off and wandering, though. Good kids tend to stay good kids when they've still got a little guidance, here and there.) And, I worry. Working on finding that middle ground between Overbearing Suffocator For Your Own Good, and Turn 'Em Loose WAAAYYY Too Early. gah. Parenting requires a lot more finesse than I gave my Mom credit for.

Smidge... yes, he's Jake. Jacob. Not Smidge. He informed me a while back that we can still call him "Smidge" on Tuesdays. "JakeRabbit" on Thursdays. But the rest of the week, he's "just Jacob". That was a shocker, really. At least he's weaning me slowly, I suppose. Good kid. Go easy on the Mama.

And now, EmBaby's up. Time to get moving!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Wednesday Weediness

In spite of the fact that we are not farmers, we're doing it again. I do wish I'd remembered my camera when we headed out to garden. Em took forever to join us, because she had to stop and pick every little flower on the path. By the time she got to the barn, both hands were full - little daisies in one hand, and some teeny-tiny lily type thing in the other. She carried them around, and refused to set them down, so she wasn't much help. But she was awfully decorative.

We put our big, strapping okra plants into the ground. Then we stood back and gave a collective, "Oh, that's pitiful!" They looked much larger in the sprouting trays. All alone in the big, big world, however, they look like weeds, just waiting to be picked.

Then we tried to use the wood chipper to mulch the leaves in the back yard. That didn't go so well. Not that the thing hasn't already worked off the $10 we spent on it, but I want to mulch leaves and cannot figure out how to make it work! Zorak wants to just burn them, but we desperately need that material IN the ground back there. Where it's not damp, it's covered in clover. And where there's no clover, it's just kind of... damp. You can see this is not going to work well for a play area, with at least one child who is violently allergic to clover. And "damp" just doesn't seem like a good backyard theme, either, come to think of it.

The boys or, rather, John marked off the area for the sunflower house. It's enormous! I started to say something, then stopped. I did give him leave to do it the way he wanted, and I did suggest he make it big enough for them to enjoy come August. He did, and it is. Directions followed. But we're gonna need more seeds.

The boys' piano teacher called this morning to see if we could come later than our regular time today, so we were on the road when we normally are not. I'm really glad we don't have to do that every week. I suspect that "rush hour" in our little hamlet is when the inmates escape from the asylum, and make a break for the open road. (It has to be lunatics. I mean, the Very Basics were totally out the window -- Red generally means, "stop" -- The dotted white line is not for straddling, in the hope that one lane will suddenly open up for you -- OK, the speed limit can be considered a general guideline, to some extent, but if you're in the front of the line and there's no wreck or rain or flying squid, you might want to consider going a titch faster than 25mph under the speed limit -- Or put on your hazzards and pull over for a bit until the voices get you all caught up. That's what I do.) I don't know how Big City folk do it every day. Yeesh. They're tough. We, however, are weenies. Weenies who like being on the road when nobody else is. Or at least when the other people on there are those who know some of the basic rules of the road.

And, we found our First Tick of the Season. On EmBaby's head. *collective shudder* Tomorrow, we all begin taking our garlic tablets. Tonight, we began the ritual evening tick-checks. Like a bunch a' apes, I tell ya. But we'll be the tick-free apes with the cool sunflower house, and boquets of dead flowers all over the house. So, that's something, right?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Normal Day

Yesterday, we did lessons. We talked. We walked about outside. We did more laundry, more disinfecting, more dishes. We read.

James said he's glad he's read Robinson Crusoe. That made me smile, because he hasn't always been glad. But it picked up, and it got interesting. And he got over whatever mental block he had and found it fascinating. And we both smiled.

John's handwriting is now improving as much as James' has. I need to write a thank you note to the folks at Italic Handwriting. Thanks to them, I may be able to stave off needing glasses for one more year.

Jake has no desire to read, but he sure wants to catch up with his brothers in math.

Emily wants to read. She wants to read everything on every surface, every sign. She knows there's a pattern in there, and she wants to know the key.

Jason's third tooth finally erupted after he started antibiotics. Now three more have come through. He looks like he's wearing a partial bridge.

We'll resume baseball and piano and gardening this week. We'll finish up our history and literature and begin the next round. We'll hopefully make it to church this Sunday.

Our normal. It feels pretty exciting, right about now.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Fish Taco Batter for Jeni

We had fish tacos again tonight, and I kept thinking I'd forgotten something... Oh, yeah. Jeni had asked about the batter recipe. This recipe doesn't give us any pockets of grease. Plus, it's easy. And we're all about the Easy. So, here ya go.

Fish Taco Batter
1 c. beer
1 c. flour
1 egg
pinch of salt
pinch of baking powder

mix until smooth.

chill for 1 hr.

dry the fish well. cut into pieces (about the length of your corn tortillas), dust with cornmeal.

dip fish into the batter.

fry in hot oil.

serve on a warm corn tortilla with fake salsa, homemade tartar sauce, lettuce and cheese.

enjoy.

Other Tips:

Corn tortillas are notoriously dry and crumbly, and they don't really like being folded up for a little soft taco action. You can beat this buy putting them into a sandwich bag (about 8 or 9 at a time) and nuking them for a minute. They'll be warm (ok, scorchingly hot, so be careful), and pliable, and will stay that way long enough to get them eaten!

Fake Salsa is embarrassingly easy to make. Take one can diced tomatoes (or diced tomatoes and green chiles), about 1/4 onion (cut into big pieces), 5 or so jalapeno slices, and one Knorr brand mini cilantro cube, a squirt of lemon juice and blend together to a chunky-smooth delicious topping.

Tartar Sauce... we usually discover we don't have any, right about the time we need it. So we started making it, and the last time we actually bought some, we all agreed we preferred the stuff we've been making. If you don't make your own, try it. It's easy!
Salad dressing or mayo, dill relish, finely minced onion, lemon juice, and a titch of paprika. Mix it together and start dollopping it all over the place.

The kids love this. Smidge ate three, and even Jase enjoyed the fish *after* he'd eaten a few cookies. Good stuff, and a fun, easy meal.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

There Went That Week

I was going to upload photos from the camera, which I haven't done since March 7th, thinking there'd be some great stuff to post, just for fun, so I wouldn't have to think of anything to say. I've only taken 46 pictures since the last upload! That's my new, official litmus test of my own mental state of being. (Normal is 800.) Obviously, we're in desperate need of a (lil) sumfin around here!

So this is the week, as I'd have written it in a cute little diary with a pink heart and a lock that didn't work b/c I'd have lost the key and had to pry the stoopid thing open at one point:

Wed, we called in the pros. They took John and EmBaby. Strep. Shots. Oral antibiotics. John was a model patient. Emily decided to perform a spontaneous impression of a rampaging chimpanzee. It was a good impression. John asked if he could wait in another room, where it's quieter. I told him there was no way he was leaving me alone with her. He laughed, but I suspect he will exact revenge when I least expect it. Ice Cream for All.

Thursday, blessedly, the local pre-season tournament was cancelled. I saw my Doc in the morning, switched him out a box of rocks for a new Rx. Yay. Half of the kidney stone is still in there, intact, floating menacingly about like the Death Star. Go back in July and we'll do it, again.

That afternoon, the kids' doctor saw James, Smidge, and Jase. No Strep, but a lovely and diverse variety of other infections (sinus, upper respiratory, and ear). Shot, shot, shot. DANG. More antibiotic prescriptions. Lady at the pharmacy starting to eyeball the Suburban a bit... More Ice Cream.

Friday, New House Rule: nobody make eye contact, nobody touch an-Y-thing... Crap, Em's eye is red and swollen. Looks like she scratched it during the altercation, erm, I mean, doctor's visit. (I will pay for my own childhood through this animated Precious Moments child.) Call the doc again. He'll see her Saturday morning, when I bring James and Jase in for their *second* antibiotic shots. Yeah, I didn't mention that, on purpose, the first time. I'm still a little queasy.

Saturday, it is a testament to the wonderful nature of our children that we did not have to spend Saturday morning trudging through the woods, trying to find them. If I'd known I'd have to go back for another one of those long-needled, intra-muscular shots, my mother would've had to keep me on house arrest, with a shock collar, to keep me from running off. Our kids rock. And baffle me. But I am thankful for them.

By some miracle of prayer, or fear, or whatever it takes, EmBaby did not freak out at the doctor's this time. Maybe she thought if she held very still, they couldn't find her? I had a cat that lived by that principle, so it could be possible. Anyway, no shot for her (just the boys). It's a scratch on Em's eye. She got a prescription for eye drops. The pharmacy lady seemed to be writing down my license plate number today.

I'm thinking perhaps we'll use different pharmacies at some point. Maybe each child can have his own pharmacy?

In the meantime, I'm trying to keep up, but... I'm bad at this. The laundry, alone, is about to kill me. And let's not even talk about my new OCD issue: contaminated cups!

Isthatyours? Wherewasit? Justgetanewone. ACK!

The dishes! I am mentally repeating, "Do not crawl under the bed. Do not crawl under the bed." Not only will it not help me get this house back under control, I haven't vacuumed under there and that could cause further trauma.

But we're now two whole days, fever-free. Go us! (rolling eyes) I know. It's all I've got, though, for now.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Crockpot Lasagna

A couple of you had asked for the recipe for the crockpot lasagna. I found it... um, somewhere. But the conversion for the crockpot was so simple, and the recipe itself a bit involved (for my taste) that I didn't bookmark it, so I can't give proper credit. (I will go look, though. Found it!! A Crock Cook.)

The recipe, itself, looked a bit too detailed (y'all know how I am about recipes), so basically, the only change you need to make is this: Just use the no-boil lasagna noodles.

Layer in the crockpot.

Cook on low, all day.

Enjoy when you get home!

The recipe online was for a meat lasagna, but we usually use my sister-in-law's super-easy spinach lasagna recipe.

Aunt Ka'berta's Spinach Lasagna
1 box frozen spinach (thawed, drained)
1 C. parmesan cheese
1 C. cottage cheese
1 C. mozzarella cheese
2 eggs
Seasoning to taste.

Mix the above ingredients together in a bowl.

Cook lasagna noodles. Crack open a jar of pasta sauce.

Layer, in a baking dish:
sauce, lasagna noodles, cheese mixture, sauce, etc.

Repeat until the dish is full, or you run out of ingredients. (About three full layers.) Sprinkle a bit more mozzarella on top, bake at 350' for approximately 45 min.

And there ya go!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Quarantine, Day 3

EW!

Well, perhaps it's not what John had. We're all still feverish and peckish and ill... ish. If there's not significant improvement come morning, it'll be time to call in the pros. In the meantime, our self-imposed quarantine seems a better and better idea with each day that passes!

Jase turned one yesterday. He slept through most of it, and didn't seem to care that it was his birthday. So, we put off the cake and the presents until we can go out to buy presents, and make a cake without infusing it will Essence of Ick. Kinda figured that'll be appreciated, all the way around.

And so, to bed.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

I don't want what he had!

We have all fallen to whatever John had 10 days ago. Yuck. It sneaks up on you, if you're not paying attention (and really, we don't pay attention). For a day or two, you're just not firing on all cylinders. Then, *BAM*, you get a high fever that doesn't respond well to medicine. That takes you down for about about 24 hours, then you're left with a residual cough.

John still has the cough. Jase, Em, Jake and I have had the fever since yesterday. Blech. Zorak isn't sure if he's over the hump, or gearing up (he doesn't pay attention, either). James went down this afternoon.

The Cubmaster said he and his family had that same thing about three weeks ago. Looks like it's making the rounds! So we've quarantined ourselves for as long as there's a fever in the house. I hope we're fever-free in time for the Blue and Gold Banquet!

Meanwhile, the boys have fallen head-over-heels for Retro TV programming. John loves Magnum P.I. James adores Knight Rider, and feels quite firmly that Magnum's Ferrari has nothing on KITT.

Jake, Em, and Jase are just snugglers. Hot, sweaty snugglers. I'm so glad there are two parents, because when one of us is sick, too, it's SO nice to have someone else at least make sure nobody starves.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And so it begins.

Tonight begins the pre-season tournament. I missed last year's, because I was in labor. As nice as it was to be home, alone, in the quiet house for four days, I'm kind of glad I'm not in the same situation again, this year.

We're going to attempt to put the house on auto-pilot today. Not sure how that's going to work out, as we haven't found the switch, yet. But it's *got* to be around here, somewhere. Right?

We'll try lasagna in the crockpot, since we'll be at the batting cages, then Smidge's practice, then the tournament, and won't be home until way awfully late. Of course, the kids will eat at the field, but somehow Snack Shack food doesn't register in the brain. I don't get it, but it's true. If we don't have food ready for them at home, they *will* be ravenous. (They'll be ravenous, anyway. It's just not as noticeable when they aren't draped over the breakfast bar, claiming they can feel their bodies turning in on themselves, eating their own muscle. Kids are weird like that.)

Maybe I should take burritos, too.

But for now, laundry. There is no auto-pilot for laundry. (Yet.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Still Alive

Sorry for being so quiet. It's been busy here. And evidently the Percocet makes things interesting *only* in my head. But no words come out. Weird.

So, I leave you today with things the kids have come up with.

EmBaby:
We don't put poop on crackers, okay?

(mmm, okay...)

Smidge:
I wouldn't want to be an Aztec OR a Conquistador because, well, because I'm a bit of a coward.

(ROFL!)

John:
You know, I think maybe when I'm done with baseball, I'll take up fencing. They don't make you run in fencing.

(good point. that one is definitely mine.)

James:
(after getting all of his Latin exercise correct on the first try)
*leans on my shoulder*
You don't have to drink because of me.

(not today, kiddo. not today)

Jase:
Doesn't say much, really. He's got three and a half teeth. That fourth one won't come in. We imaging if he could talk, he'd cuzz like a sailor on shore leave. So, it's probably good that he's not talking much, yet.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Friday Night Fun

Well, I offered to let Zorak pound on my kidney ("percussion therapy" - about as much fun as it sounds) while we watched a movie. Then I could fall asleep, he could finish watching it, and he could fill me in tomorrow on whether it was worth staying up for. He declined. Huh. Tell me the romance isn't dead. (I know. It's not always this bad, for either of us. Just been a long week.)

John's down with something viral. It hit him hard this morning, and he's been out of commission all day. James and I tore the kitchen apart, looking desperately for the Emergen-C, both of us wild-eyed and panicky. We. Cannot. Get. This. ACK!

On a side note -- It's kind of cool to have a child who is old enough to understand the fear, and to help, rather than just feel put out that his/her brother gets to have a drink. with a straw. in bed. Big Picture, here, guys - they do, eventually, get it.

We saw the doc this evening, and the doc said keep pushing liquids and rest. Not strep; nothing in the ears, sinus, chest, or throat; doesn't look flu-ish. Call tomorrow to touch base. If he's not better by Monday, we'll do a blood draw and figure out what's going on.

There are SO many things I love about the kids' doctor. His waiting room is a malarial hell, but he is worth the risk. He wants the parent to stay in the room. He stays open until late in the evening (doesn't open early - I'm guessing he is among us night owls, and how awesome that he can operate on hours that work for him, no? Hey, if he's a better doctor after eleven in the morning, I'm glad he knows his limits!) He's very thorough, but also fairly non-interventionist. He listens - not just to the patient and parent, but he listens to the child's body. It's wild to watch him work. Totally focused, listening, feeling, sorting. Skin tone, color, flush... sounds... just, it's hard to explain. The whole body comes into play when he's doing an exam. I get a kick out of him. And I trust him with my children.

So, no baseball clinic tonight. No Pinewood Derby tomorrow. John is disappointed, but true to his generous nature, all he's said was that he's sorry he won't be able to go. No fits. No drama. I owe God, big-time, for giving me this sweet, gracious, understanding child. (I was not such a good kid. This would have been a fit and a pity party of gigantic proportions, when I was eight. He must get it from Zorak.)

Come to think of it, I owe a big thanks for Zorak, too. He had chili ready when we got home. With homemade sopapillas, and lemonade.

And now, to bed. Or else they'll all be up at five and we'll be bleary-eyed and disoriented. That's never a good combination.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And we're off!

I got something in the crockpot today!

Granted, it was just keilbasa and sauerkraut. And it only needed to warm up, not actually *cook*. But boy, did I feel like a Big People, dishing it up between practice and Scouts tonight.

We've been hit with a cold snap. Or more of just a super-chilly *period*. It's just chilly enough to make hot chocolate and games sound nice. Unfortunately, it's not cold enough to cancel activities, but too cold to be comfortable sitting on metal bleachers. Really. Metal? What's wrong with splinters? At least splinters don't get that cold.

This weekend will be wild, with practices and derby and church and cold and practices and... I'm not repeating myself. It's going to be that busy!

Meanwhile, EmBaby seems to have given up on the idea that she'll ever get an education if left to my plans, and she is forging on without us. She convinced the boys to change the audio on her favorite videos, and tonight she told me, "I'm learning French, Mom!"

It was probably a good call, on her part, to start teaching herself now. Poor James held out hope for *years* that I'd teach him French. All of my protestations about not *knowing* French, having never taken any French, and really not being all that interested in adding it to my To-Do list fell on his deaf, ever-hopeful little ears. Maybe EmBaby will teach him, once she gets the hang of it?

The fire is going, and the house is toasty. It's time to bank it up and head for bed. Busy day tomorrow!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Are you ready for some baseball?

No? Check back in, um, early June, then. 'Cuz I just filled in the calendar, all color-coordinated so I can tell from across the room which child I need to harrass about finding his cleats and helmet. And it's lookin' like... I need to pick colors that go together a bit better.

Blue, gold, purple, and pink. The calendar is a bit jarring to the senses right now.

Or it could be what it all represents. I wonder if it's possible to develop Agoraphobia by being out of the house against one's will more often than usual?

Just wondering, is all. Really. I'll be fine.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Goodbye Joe.

I'm back. (This is cross-posted from FB, so if it looks familiar, it's because I'm plagiarizing myself.)

I feel surprisingly good, although I have three little hickey marks on my "flank" (could they not come up w/ a Latin term for that???). It looks like I've been attacked by a three-fanged vampire. Or a toddler with a coffee stirrer/straw.

It wasn't bad. But I think they put in a trach tube, b/c I woke up w/ waxy stuff all over my face and my throat feels like I've had strep for a month. GAH. A little heads up on that would have been MUCH appreciated.

Didn't get to keep the panties on. Mildly mortifying. However, I was instantly distracted by the fact that they have heated hospital gowns now! How COOL is that? Do you have ANY idea how tempted I was to try to smuggle one out w/ me? Or how hard I'm trying to figure out if I can rig my hair dryer to do the same thing w/ one of those snuggie things? Man, that was nice. And they let me keep my wool socks on, so I didn't whine.

U-doc seems optimistic that they got it all broken down small enough to pass. It took some doing, though, and we were in there longer than anticipated. I think that's why there are three marks - they just kept moving and shooting. I wish I was awake for it, b/c a) I think that would've been fascinating, and b) I wonder if he acts like he's playing Astroids when he's doing it. (I probably would.)

I'm down a total of ten pounds, now. This is not the way to do this. And lemme tell you, having not eaten since Thursday evening, I am REALLY looking forward to supper!! (Less so, since my throat hurts, but like that's going to stop me.)

Got home to a trashed house, and as we all know, I just cannot relax in squalor. (Live in it? Sure. Relax in it? Nope.) So I sent the kids to play video games. Sent Zorak out to work on the balcony. And I cleaned. Ran the dishwasher, tidied the living room, took a Zofran (kind of like Phenergan, but a little stronger), did some laundry, cleaned the kitchen, swept the floor. Then I got the boys loaded for b-ball, took a pain killer (in the Percocet family, yay!), and sat my happy butt down here to play.

If the pain meds don't make me loopy, I'll go to the ball park here in a bit to relieve Zorak. (Jake has practice from 4-5, then batting practice from 5-6; John has practice from 5:30-7 - at some point, somebody's going to have to come home.)

As for what happens next, I'd just better not run out of pain meds before it's all said and done. Other than that, I'm just trying not to think about it. Or think about having to pee in a strainer. The boys thought it was hilarious when I pointed out that this thing had better not end up in the kitchen OR the sand box, thankyouverymuch.

Thank you for your humor, your thoughtful words, and your prayers.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Behind The Scenes

Man, it's hard to make codeine interesting. Then, just as I was thinking there was nothing worth sharing at this point in the process, I got to pre-register over the phone. And BADABING, I hit the motherlode!

The absolute BEST piece of medical advice I have received thus far?

If you want any hope of being able to keep your panties on, make sure they are 100% cotton.

I gotta tell you, that's a heads-up worth getting, isn't it? If the gown and the fluorescent lighting isn't enough to come to terms with, just imagine getting hit with, "Oh, and we'll need you to remove your undergarments, please." Yeah, right before they knock you out. Fun!

Turns out, synthetics can cause a spark during the lithotripsy procedure, thus raising the potential for a fire in the lab. Really, I stopped listening at that point. Who needs more motivation to check the tags for that 100% cotton mark than the fear of having the fire department called in to douse your butt?

I also got the rest of the low-down on "Being Prepared". It looks *nothing* like the Boy Scout manual.

Shower and wash your hair the morning of your procedure, but don't use any hair product. No lotions, creams or salves. No makeup. No nail polish, jewelry, or accessories. I get most of the restrictions, but then it hit me - the real reason behind these guidelines.

Remember years back when there was a spate of doctors taking inappropriate advantage of patients who were under general anesthesia? Yep. This pretty much guarantees that you will look as unappealing as you. will. Ever. look. while you're under. Ain't nobody gonna wanna get near the damp, scaly, pale iguana dumped on that exam table!

And so, I'm off to divest myself of any remaining bling, and then to bed. Tomorrow we beat the tar out of "Joe". Yay!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Medical Update

Not nearly as cute as the kids, sorry. I had an impacted wisdom tooth extracted this morning. For some heinous reason, the oral surgeon gave me codeine rather than one of the lovely -cet drugs (percocet, darvocet, you know, the Good Ones). I slept through that part, or I'd have asked him why. Anyway, I've fasted for testing four times in the last two weeks, have lost five pounds, and I am ravenous.

But now that I can eat, I can't keep anything down, not even the Phenergan. I swear, when this is all over, I am going to park my rear at Barnhills Fry-For-All Buffet and refuse to leave until they run out of food.

Had the follow-up for my C/T Scan on Thursday. In the sage words of the N-doc, "It is what it is."

Yep, it's a kidney stone. A huge, honkin', wedged-in-there-tightly stone. We discussed options: live with it, monitor it, and wait until it causes infections or blockages to do something *insert furrowed brow and tilted head, here*, OR (my favorite) see a Urologist about breaking it up to get it out.

Luckily, the Urologist (who we will call the U-doc) had an opening for 1:30 that same day. Yay. I met with him, and told him that while Joe is not a source of constant pain, I would rather evict him now than allow the little squatter to wreck my pad. So to speak. The actual wording was more along the lines of, "Are there any drawbacks to performing a lithotripsy at this stage?"

He said it's borderline for the lithotripsy to work (should have been referred to him sooner), and may actually take two procedures, but that would most definitely be his recommendation. As in, post-haste. As in, can you come to the surgery center Monday morning? We talked shop a bit. Made arrangements. Got a list of foods to avoid, and picked up the magnesium citrate for Sunday.

The irony of trying to remineralize my bone density after weaning, while fasting for tests, and avoiding all the foods that will remineralize bone density is not lost on me. It'll be funny later. Right now, not so much.

On the drive home, I was just so very thankful to be able to address this now, when *my* reason and logic have more bearing on my own medical decisions than those of a central board. An oversight committee would have looked at my doctor's report (nothing wrong here) and the radiologist's report (nothing wrong here) and determined that there was nothing wrong here and I was, quite simply, a troublemaker; appeal denied.

It's not fiscally plausible to cater to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who thinks the professionals are wrong. Two or three of those on file, and you're looking at a recommend for a psych eval. Dang. But that's where we'll be in a very short time, once we have Centralized Health Care put in place.

So, yeah, we're going to be in debt for another couple of years. But I'll be in debt with two good kidneys, at least. And a team of doctors who will listen to what I have to say and work with me, rather than focusing on how I saw the images, or where I got the idea that having something in my kidney is a bad thing.

I'm going to go see if I can slip another Phenergan down without my body noticing. And then, get some rest.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy