Not At Bad As It Sounded

No, none of it is as bad as it sounded. I was tired, and rather than going to bed like a normal person might, I stayed up blogging and chatting wtih J and Dee. Actually, that was cathartic. I wish J and I still lived in the same town - she's a wonderful friend, and I miss her. I miss her wonderful children, her funny husband (Ok, he's Zorak-funny, so it's probably not always funny to *her*, but he makes me laugh), and I miss her sweet, gentle nature. And her snarky side. But mostly just - all of them.

We'll head in to town today to make a Costco run. Payday is the day *after* Pioneer Club, so once a month I have to make two runs into town, and that's... well, *whine*whine*whine*. (ahem) Not bad. Really. The boys are dying to take flowers to Me-Tae, and if I can get moving quickly enough, perhaps we can stop by the art museum or at least Big Spring park and enjoy a nice day out.

John has practice today (that's somewhat like saying, "we're going to be breathing today", or "we thought we'd eat today" - I'm really thankful the ball field is just a few miles down the road!) and it's *team pictures* day. He gets to wear his full uniform. Oh. My. Word. The ANTICIPATION! I just hope we can find the socks. Smidge had them on as gloves the other day, and we had a heck of a time trying to convince him they're off limits.

Need to come up with some crockpot recipes this week. Want to share your favorites?

Aunt B's friends' son and his family are moving to the area, and we hope to be able to feed them this weekend sometime. (That has nothing to do with crockpot recipes. We have our "feed company" menus ,and they're all about the process and the fun of preparing food for enjoyment. If you leave our house hungry, it's not our doing, know what I mean? The crockpot thing is for our practice nights that happen to fall on errand days.) Anyway, they're doing the whole hectic "find a house and move" process. We'd like to help make the transition more enjoyable if we can. And we look forward to meeting them. Good people.

OK, I've got some fun things to post, but the Small Ones seem to need a little direction, and they've come running to the tapping of the keyboard like cats to a can opener. So, I'm going to go enjoy my little kitten-y Small Ones and have a productive, wonderful day. Y'all do the same!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Just...Stuff

(You know, I have to work very hard not to abuse that category!) It's been one heckuva week around here, folks. Not all bad, but please allow me to whine a bit, first.

All that dental work we've had done over the last year? Not a bit of it has worked. Not. One. Bit. I've got an appointment Monday with a new Dentist For Big People. I'm in so much pain right now from bad work the first dentist did. Gah. I hate this. I hate going in blind. Of course they're going to say they can help you. They want your business. But can they help? I've asked around, stalking people who have lovely teeth, but they either don't have a dentist locally, or they don't have anything yay-or-nay to say about their dentist. "Eh, he's okay. He's on my insurance." *sigh*

Well, being the eternal optimist *snort* (Yeah, I know, but it sounded good, didn't it?) I'd think some dentist, somewhere, is capable of filling a cavity and not leaving the edges sharp enough to break those teflon flossers. (Had those "fixed" by him, twice. And three of 'em are still breakin' floss.) Or perhaps of putting on a temporary crown that doesn't protrude so far out of whack that it forces the patient's jaw out of line. (My favorite memory of this guy will always be when I mentioned that particular one, and was told, "Oh, well, that's only for six months." Wha--? And it hurts now. Well, it hurt then. NOW, it's more than mere inconvenience.)

I had a delightful dentist once. He did an amazing job. He got it right the first time, every time. He was gentle, thorough, honest. Well, mostly honest. Turned out he had a pretty rabid cocaine addiction. But even with that little glitch, I find myself wishing I could make a quick run up to PA to get the rest of my work done. Yes, I know that's wrong on so many levels. But it just serves to illustrate how desperate I am.

Then, this morning Balto had a Grand mal seizure. Whooo boy. Of course, I didn't look at him vibrating on the porch, and think, "Oh, looks like a seizure episode." I looked at him and thought, "Holy cow, can fresh rabbit do that to you?" Actually, my first concern was that he'd been poisoned. The boys helped me get everybody shod and loaded in less than ten minutes (WOOHOO) and off we went to the Wonderful Vet, who did a thorough check and said he's in perfect health and shows no signs of toxicity. He said it looks like epilepsy. Huh. So, I looked into whether we need to worry about Baltoid's mental stability (such as it is) and general personality changes (could he, by chance, be a little more calm after a couple of these things?) From there, it's just a matter of learning to live with epilepsy.

Wonderful Vet did touch base about letting him go down to the creek, but when we described it - nothing like Melissa's creek, which is a real creek - we just call ours a creek, but the other creeks would shun it and deny it membership in the AW-CRAP (Associated Waterways - Creeks, Rivers, Aquaducts, Ponds), he gave the a-ok. Poor BaltoDog. He's been a big clingy since then, and I don't blame him. Seizures are freaky enough for a fully functioning human who can listen to an explanation and process the whole thing. What's that like for a dog? Ugh. I can only imagine, "Oh, man. It was awful. One minute I'm chasing robins off the porch and chewing on my feet, and the next minute, I'm belching foam and peeing all over myself. Then they made me get in the CAR! What's that all about? I don't know what happened, but... I don't ever want to be alone again, man." Plenty of gentle lovin's and snuggles seemed to make him feel better. If he plans to stay inside more often, though, he is SO getting a bath tomorrow. He's such a good dog, and I feel bad for him. We'll see if we can identify any triggers he may have, and help him develop a safe spot for when he's feeling punky. He's our Balto-Dog, and we love him.

Oh, the finger? Almost healed! I still can't put any real stress on it, or it makes a wretched tearing sound - similar to velcro being pulled apart - and somehow, that doesn't seem like it should be happening. But it's significantly better. I thought it was lookin' pretty good, until I showed it to Zorak and he said, "Aww, a FrankenFinger!" Um... yeah, thanks, Love.

AND, we made it to Pioneer Club. We made it home. We got everybody snuggled and loved on. And in the end, I'm sitting here typing with my FrankenFingers (it's okay, I never planned to be a hand model, really), with my goofy dog draped across my foot. My wonderful husband is passed out cold with Smidge, and there's probably no way I will be able to wiggle in there with them, but it's such a snuggly, inviting scene, I may try anyway. The big boys are big. They did well this week. They've really learned how to work together (when they must) and how to be caring for those who need it. Really, it has been quite a week. But not as bad as it sounds. I'm thankful.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Is it really only 9:30?

I lured Zorak into proof-reading for me last night. It was painful, for both of us. But he's such a trooper, and I really appreciate him for going that extra ten thousand miles for me. Anyway, by the time all was said and done, we were too tired to gather the trash before bed. But our trash men are shockingly punctual, and when they recommend you have your trash out by six o'clock Tuesday morning, they mean it.

Of course, we live amongst the raccoons and stray dogs and other country varmints, so you can't just haul it to the road before bed. Well, you could... but, ew. (We know about the boxes. We'll make one. Eventually. The work on the property just hasn't radiated all the way out to the road yet.) So, we usually just gather it Monday night before bed and then Zorak trails it to the road as he leaves for work in the morning.

This morning, I got up and stumbled around gathering trash while he asked me questions, as if I were awake. "Have you seen my belt?" Honey, I love you, but I haven't seen anything other than the lower half of my right eyelid since I rolled out of bed. I'm gathering the trash on pure radar. Let's just pretend I'm not actually up, and go from there, shall we? (We did find another belt, though I have no clue, even now, with three cups of coffee under me, where his usual one went. I probably did it, but I don't know what I did. Or where.)

I stumbled back toward the hallway, bounced off the arm of the couch (that's my radar at work), and heard a giggle. Huh? James was up already. Smidge was up already. Look at them, there, all curled up and chipper.

Do y'all know it's still dark out?

...You do?

...And that doesn't mean anything to you?

Oh... I'm not going back to bed, am I?

And so, we've gone non-stop since whenever that was. I thought for sure it was time for lunch and a nap, only to check the time and see that it's only 9:30. Theoretically, we should be quite productive today. ;-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A tulip?

You tell me. I have no clue.



Other than that, school, composting, books (oh, I've GOT to blog about the books!), ball practice. Pictures Thursday. John gets to wear his whole uniform. He thinks it's almost as good as Christmas.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hi.

You get no title, but I'll post pictures. :-) I got up at some unholy hour the other day and figured I'd just run with it, so when the sun began to rise, I grabbed my coffee and camera and went out to take pictures. By the time I stopped wandering about like a lost child in Wonderland, the sun was pretty well up. Oh, well, it was still nice to just be there, in the quiet, the beautiful, sparkling, dewy quiet of it all.

Zorak wasn't feeling well when he went to bed last night, but I figured it was just allergies. (OK, posting flower pictures alongside an illness post, when the flowers aren't in a bedside vase, seems a little wrong. Poor post planning. Sorry 'bout that.) Anyway, he figured it was too much sun. Either way, no biggie. Then he slept pretty late this morning, and when Me-Wa called to see about going fishing, he wasn't up for it. I started to ask why, but then I looked up to see him sitting on a barstool, phone dangling from his hand, just sort of staring at the counter speckles and weaving back and forth. hooboy. That's one sick Daddy.

He went back to bed and hasn't moved all day, save for two brief attempts to eat. Oh, and I'd slip in every few hours to rotate his pillows and get him to sip some water, but he didn't ever really wake up for that. He is SO sick, and so out of it. No fever, just chills, sweating, and total lethargy. I'm terrified to google those specific symptoms, but if he's still like this tomorrow, I plan to drag him to the doctor. At least on the upside, he'll be too weak and exhausted to kick and scream. 8^O

In other news, we are inundated with blooms and buds! The dogwoods and redbuds are all in full bloom, and it's BEAUTIFUL here! We have a lone flower in bloom, down among the bulbs, too. I thought it was a tulip, but the boys checked it out and said they don't think it's a tulip. It does look a little more starry-shaped than tulip-shaped. We'll have to post a photo, though. Whatever it is, it's the kind of flower that makes people say and do silly things in response to it.

Speaking of silly things, I've turned into "that woman". You know, the neophyte gardener, who is just beginning to get a feel for it. Or, as Zorak put it the other day on the drive into town, "Plants have become your Gamecube, you know." (I believe this was after the ninth or tenth time since leaving the property that I pointed and exclaimed, "OH, would you LOOK at THAT tree!" Um, yeah, we live in the south. There's more foliage here than probably anywhere else this side of Cambodia. Pleasant drive for him, I'm sure.) But it's fun, and it's wonderful, and I am *finally* beginning to understand how people can tell the difference between things like bulbs and ivies! It's much, much easier when you live among them, and can get to know them. Delightful!

Surprise!

Our digital camera doesn't take very good video, and I think our memory card is about to go t-u on us because the audio/video is out of synch. But we just couldn't resist trying to capture EmBaby's singing on video. She stopped singing the second the camera came out, and this is what we got, instead: her surprised look.



Oh, and that's Smidge in the background, singing "Mango", which you can find and then embed in your head, too, simply by clicking, here. That's also what EmBaby was singing, until it was time for her close-up.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

What are you bad at?

That's what the boys asked me today. The actual question was, "What do you enjoy doing that you're *really* bad at? And I don't mean, just *not good*, but truly awful."

Uh...

Well, there's a lot I'm just not good at. Some of it I do enjoy, anyway. Some of it, not so much.

But something I'm really bad at and still enjoy?

That would have to be singing. I've been asked not to participate in church choirs, recommended for transfer from school choir to another elective, and all four of my children have screamed like they're being eaten alive when I've tried to sing them to sleep. I think that probably ranks right up there in the "truly awful" category.

But, oh, how I love to sing!

That got me thinking, though. How do we view the enjoyment-competency relationship? I think it's natural for us to enjoy doing things in which we succeed. But do we lose touch with the enjoyment of doing? Or lose sight of the potential to accel, if we press on, and find enjoyment? Is there much room for enjoying an activity or venture that you are truly, deeply bad at doing?

Worth thinking about.

There's probably a song about it, too.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Music in the House

This year, I've made a concerted effort to include more music in our daily pattern. We used to have music playing in the background almost constantly. Then, I think between all the change and chaos and noise, well, I admit I liked the quiet places between conversations and questions. But a day without music, even for people who don't play music, or write music, or consider themselves connoisseurs of music... still kinda quiet. It's been nice to get back to the sway of background music. It's also been nice to make our choices a little more intentional.

Now, we don't have iPODs, or nanos, or slingwhatsits. Just a very old stereo with the radio, a double tape player (although don't put tapes in the one on the left, it eats them), and a CD player. Simple. Old. The kids can operate it (which probably explains the situation with the tape player). But perfectly useful, and fun. We've been listening and talking and looking things up. It's active learning, but feels passive in that it's just part of the day, rather than anything structured.

Yesterday, I popped in our "From Dublin to Dakar" CD, and the kids surprised me by striking up a conversation about the music. John said, "This sounds very Egyptian." James said, "No, I think it's got more of an Indian sound." Smidge said, "HAHAHAAAAA!" (?? We don't ask.) We talked about the artists and their backgrounds. We danced a little and picked favorites. I asked them what about the music gave each of them the impressions it did - about its origin, its authors. What instruments do you think you hear? Some of their instincts were right-on, some were a little oh... really? but that wasn't the point of it. It wasn't a pop quiz. It was why we do what we do.

So they can learn.

So we can explore the world around us, and expand the world within us.

We'll take some things along permanently, and some we'll savor and discard later.

It's okay. We can enjoy this delicious life together. (If I were to dust off my food-related review guide, I'd say it was a musical sampler for a light afternoon's repast. Tapas, perhaps. Good stuff.)

Times like that, I'd give body parts to have a pocket musician I could pull out and set up on the futon. Wouldn't that be wonderful? He'd come with a full array of musical instruments, a broad background in various forms and music theory. Ah, yes, that's just what I need. I wonder if you can order one of those in a catalog somewhere? Can you see the ad:

Get your own pocket musician! Amaze your children, astound your friends! Choose from many schools, and training levels. No bands or wholesalers, please.

What delights have you found in music lately?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Goof Ball

Say Cheese stick

I love that goofy, sweet kid.

Dy