Warts and All

You know how, once in a while you come across someone you just adore, and you hit it off, and even when you don't agree, it's all good...

but still, you think maybe they'd not take kindly to the vice (or two...) you happen to have in the closet...

and then they find out, and they don't care, and you could just send them a Gorilla-Gram or an Amish stripper. Or, something.

But you don't because now you *really* want to remain friends?

Yeah. I love it when that happens.

On the other tidbits around here:
* We were on time to piano for the third week running! WOOT! Granted, we shaved it close enough that I had to slow down and shove the kids out, paratrooper style, so they could run in while I found a place to park. So, we don't quite rock, but hey, we aren't horribly pathetic anymore, either. Yay, us! (And I'm kidding. I came to a full stop. And they jump out on their own. I don't have to push 'em anymore.)
* Didn't get the garden mulched. The rootbound plants are going to die a lingering death. Perhaps we can rectify that tomorrow. Or simply prolong the death. We'll play it by ear.
* Glad to know the snake wasn't poisonous. Kinda bummed that we've been so hard on the non-poisonous snake population in Northern Alabama. But then, again, that's because we haven't yet been accosted by the poisonous ones, and for that, I'm doubly glad.
* What eats poisonous snakes? Whatever it is, I want to raise that. (I've heard a hog will eat snakes - truth? hoax? Someone who just thinks it'd be funny to watch me try to raise hogs?)
* Having a hard time finding that magic frequency 9yo boys can hear and comprehend. He's a good boy. Heart of gold. Extends compassion and aid to those in need. Wonderful, wonderful child in so many ways. However, I seem to speak in a tone that falls somewhere between "can't make out a word you're saying, Mom, so I'll go about my merry way and do what I want" and "yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't have an excuse. Or a reason. But ya know, as bad as I feel right now, I'm probably going to blow you off again in the next five minutes, anyway." I won't quit trying, but so help me, if his internal receiver switches frequencies again when he turns ten, I may take up tweezing my leg hairs in order to find a non-destructive outlet for my frustration.
* When did Smidge quit being a Smidge? He's really growing up fast, guys. Wow.
* EmBaby has barrettes now. We're hoping they'll stay in longer than clippies. So far, the only way I've found to keep her hair out of her face is to brush it straight back after her bath and then hairspray it into place. Helmet head isn't attractive on anyone, not even a 2yo. So, I'm putting a lot of hope into these barrettes.
* And did you know that the active ingredient in "After Bite" (which looks like the latest version of "Sting-EZ") is ammonia? AND that it works!?! I guess there's some truth to the whole backcountry hiking tip to urinate on a bite/sting. However, we'll just buy extra tubes of After Bite and call it good, I think.

OK, way past my bedtime. Busy day tomorrow! Kiss those babies, of all ages. Even the big ones need it -- sometimes more! ;-)
~Dy

This is why I'm not a master gardener.

We picked up some free plants from the feed store Tuesday. (Yes, the fact that we're waiting until the little seedlings are rootbound and free until we get them probably contributes to the reason I'm not a master gardener. But that's not the point.) So, we weeded the raised beds in the upper meadow, and then I began to turn them so that we could add compost and get the little plants put into the ground.

But when I took my shovel to one of the beds, I couldn't raise it. What in the world? When did I become the 98-pound weakling? Erngh. Huhhhhnh. I finally got the shovel to lift up out of the ground, only to find this...
Well, it didn't look like that when it first came out. I could swear to you it was three times bigger and had glowing red eyes. I'm pretty sure I heard it whisper, "I am here for your soul." So, I did what anyone would do when something announces it's here for your soul. I bashed it in the head with the shovel. Or, I meant to bash it in the head, but I have no depth perception, so I kinda got everything but the head. At which point I called for Daddy to come save me. He came running up the hill, took in the scene, chuckled, and said it didn't look like I needed saving. (But I still felt better that he was there.)

Anyone know what this thing is? Is it a good witch, or a bad witch? Here's the belly. I've tried googling it. Got hits on some fantastic tattoo designs, but nothing on what to call this thing.

So, anyway, I called it a day after that, and we'll have to put the tomatoes in later, after I've had a beer or two. (*snort* Like that's going to help with my aim, right?)

Kiss those babies!
Dy

Feral Flora

We have a jungle out there.
Ivies (both decorative and nasty), oaks, fruits, ferns, saplings...
stuff we have no clue what to call...
but do you see it?

Right... there. Yes, that's berries.
Feral berries, right smack in the middle of the jungle.

And not just a random one or two, either. The forest floor is full of them!

I don't know if they'll make it to maturity, but if they do, we're going berry picking later this summer. That's just too exciting to pass up! And I'm out of jam, too!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(I apologize for the fuzzy shots - I had Jase in the sling, and he was not terribly thrilled with the fauna in the woods... darned skeeters.)

Mom! Come look at Jason!

I heard the cry emanate from the front porch. Smidge sounded so serious. So I ran up the sidewalk, wondering what on earth had happened. I reached the stop of the hill. Panting, I ask Smidge, "What? What is it? What about Jason?"

Smidge smiles, and says, "He's so cute! Come look!"

Ahhhh. Yes. He is cute. And patient, too.

It's good to be loved.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Before and After

(Edited to add: photo glitches have been fixed!)

Main shots, Balcony O' Death...

After the destruction...

As of this evening...

The nasty, gaping holes have been filled. The balcony is taking shape...

Yay.

I've posted three separate posts in order to accomodate Blogger's cap on uploading images per post, so if you'd like to see more, scroll down. The previous two posts have all the fun details for ya!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Balcony O' Death: Reconstruction

Here, you can see John starting to work on the stairs beneath the door that's been wired shut ever since we quit throwing old cabinetry out of it. The bricks that have already come off are now backfill for the driveway. The rest will come off shortly, and will probably be... backfill... for the rest of the driveway. (It's a long driveway.)

And here is the main framing for the deck that will allow us to unwire the door of death. It will be the door of death no more. Yay!

You can see here how this deck wraps around toward the front, as an extension of the balcony o' not death (still working on a new name for it).

Below, we have piers, glorious piers!

And here, we have glorious piers holding glorious posts. (And, by the way, we are a notoriously messy construction crew. We'll clean up when we're done. Or when we can't find our tools anymore. Please excuse the mess.)

Ta-da!

Details and Tidbits

OK, this is the fun stuff. Kind of. Mostly just fun for us, but you get to watch. Think of it as our version of a vacation slideshow.

This is a close-up of one of the concrete piers. Zorak made the forms. The boys mixed the concrete (about three tons of gravel, two tons of sand, and a whole lot of portland cement - 3-2-1, scoop-and-mix!) Smidge did the tapping. Fun for the whole family! We like the octagonal shape - the corners aren't as likely to chip, and they look really cool when you stand back and take in the whole thing. We didn't use round forms because one day we plan to put in a rock knee wall beneath the balcony to create a sun-room off the basement. The wide, flat sides of this design give us a surface against which to build the wall. (They're the same width as concrete blocks.)

Here you see a regular, plain old ledger board bolted to the house (all the way through to the interior of the basement, not just into the bricks - we've seen pictures of how that goes, and it does not go well. So, nice and secure. Yay.) The beam leaning against the wall shows the jointing (made that word up - expect to hear it in construction circles next season - we're cool that way) for the balcony. Stay with me, it'll make sense in a minute.

Close-up of the notches for the beams, boards, and other woody stuffs. These serve to provide additional strength and support to reduce the risk of hard failure (screws shearing off, nails pulling out, and other nasty gravitationally instigated mishaps). Kinda looks like Lincoln Logs meets Jenga, doesn't it? Zorak had way too much fun with this, I can tell you that.

And this is how it all goes together. Zorak is hanging one part of the cantilever beam on the outside notch of the picture you just saw (another board goes on the inside, and then there is a board between the two, so the cantilever beam is three layers thick). You can see on the right hand side, at the corner of the house, where the first notched beam is now bolted to the ledger board, and how the ledger board sits inside the notch, on a ledge of its own. It's a sort of ledge-within-a-ledge schematic. All of the posts along the wall are secured to the concrete piers with base posts, to the house with anchor bolts, and to the ledger (which is also secured to the house). A tornado may take down the house, but this balcony and, the wall it's attatched to, will remain standing.

How do you move a 9' tall 6x6 beam 1/8" to plumb? You break out the Animaniacs tools! This is actually the sledge-o-matic for squashing aluminum cans, but we found it works great for making minute adjustments to the beams without marring the surface. We call it the tweak-o-matic, now. Again, look for this term to surface among all the cool DIY-ers this season.

Need Your Best Stories!

OK, it's time to rally 'round a post-partum Mom, and I need you guys to help me. Hit me with your best post-partum, totally overwhelmed stories. The ones you can laugh about now, not the one that may have made you cry this morning. This is for a wonderful friend and mother who is currently having a post-partum ack-attack.

You know the feeling. You've spent the last two and a half months of your pregnancy thinking that as soon as you can eat more than a tablespoon of food without getting heartburn, as soon as your ankles no longer have the same girth as your thighs, as soon as you can roll over without needing the assistance of three acrobats and a crane, as soon as you can go two hours without needing to pee... as soon as you have. this. baby... life will get back to normal. It's an obsession like few others, and a pregnant woman begins to look toward That Day with the glow and expectancy normally reserved for... well, let's be honest, normally reserved for lunatics who await the return of the MotherShip. It's not rational, but in the third trimester, that doesn't matter.

Then the baby comes.

And the learning curve can seem just as steep as it did the first time.

And the baby seems to sleep only when you aren't needed by the other children, or by your partner, or by a jury selection team.

And you can't figure out why you feel so grimy, until you do the math and realize you haven't showered since Tuesday. Or shaved since that first glorious day you could reach your legs again.

And suddenly, it feels like your 24 hours in each day only have maybe 45 minutes in each one. Yet your to-do list has somehow quadrupled.

And that glorious return of the MotherShip seems to have only brought you more demands and less ability to fulfill them. And of course, there's no chocolate, or beer, or help.

Yeah. It's normal. But in the midst of it, you look around and feel like every other mother on the face of the planet has it totally together, didn't blink twice after having her umpteenth child, and would probably snort derisively, flick you in the back of the head and tell you to get it together if only she could see the paralysis taking over your brain.

Would you share your stories to help a Mom-in-Need today? C'mon, let's make her smile. Let's remind her (and maybe someone else who might read this and recognize herself in our stories) that she's not alone, it's not going to last forever, and it's all gonna be OK!

You can post your stories on your blog and put a link in the comments. Or, you can post your stories under the comments, here. It's all good. Just please share your stories with her.

I'll add mine tomorrow. Sometimes, it's difficult to articulate, and we do tend to be hard on ourselves when we can't just snap back into shape like Elasti-Girl and start living like Martha Stewart three weeks after giving birth. (Even if we didn't live like Martha, or have any elastic left *before* we got pregnant!) I've written about it a couple of times here, and here, and here, but in the spirit of full disclosure I'll add more.

Your turn!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Day in Which...

We accomplish absolutely nothing!

That's on tomorrow's agenda. Today, we were up, dressed, fed, and out the door in time for baseball camp. We took both the recycling and the donations to their respective new homes, washed and vacuumed the Suburban, and brought ourselves back into the good graces of the little local library. We picked up John, hit the Fudge Shoppe (ran into someone we know! That feels SO good, after not having it for such a long time. *happy sigh*), and then ran into town.

I got my hair done. Slept through most of it. Nice Hair Lady let me nap, and when I apologized for my burgeoning narcolepsy, she said if she had that many kids, she'd pass out every time she stopped moving at all. Normally, I'd think that was a weird thing to say, but today I was just glad for the empathy. The nap and the dye job both did wonders for my overall outlook.

From there, we went up to Me-Wa and Me-Tae's place and stayed far later than we should. It was just so. incredibly. nice. It's hard to leave, and we all had a wonderful time kibbitzing and chatting and eating. Gotta love the eating. I need to get Me-Tae's pasta-shrimp-thingy recipe. It was way-nummy. The kids, of course, were on cloud nine to see Me-Wa and Me-Tae, to play in the yard, to love on the doggies, and to have *soda*!! The little boy from up the road came over and ran amok with our kids. He's such a great kid. We'd bring him home with us if we thought his mother wouldn't hold it against us. As it is, however, we're pretty sure that'd be a grudge-worthy adventure, so we'll just see if we can borrow him when we're in town.

Tomorrow, we sleep in, eat cold cereal for breakfast, do a few chores, and then veg like fresh produce for the rest of the day. I think we can do that without feeling the least bit guilty!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy