Well, my monthly goals are shot. Today is the last day, and if it weren't for that pesky holiday thing, I could possibly pull it off. But as it stands, I have small children who awoke this morning, asking if they could don their costumes right away. Er, no. You have two full meals to get through first. I'm pretty sure Bob the Builder isn't coated in oat crust by noon. Let's hold off a bit.
We did get many boxes of clothes sorted, washed and packed up for shipping. Now to get them out before postal rates go up again! (Which is, honestly, a whole new goal of itself.) The boys were a great help, sacrificing their room for the staging area, and playing with Miss Emily the Destructor while Smidge and I moved loads. It's so funny to see them excited about doing wash. Sort of like there's something wrong with their wiring. But you know, I'll take that. Help and happiness are just that, and not to be turned away, no matter how weird their forms.
Wish I had a clue what today's plan is, but I don't. Zorak is helping his brother with some science project, and so he's had the computer at night. The organizational portion of my brain can only be accessed when the full moon reaches it's zenith and the wolves howl on the... no, wait. Well, whatever it is, that part cannot be accessed in the light of day. So here I sit, with paint cans around me, kids eating oatmeal, cursing this early morning sunlight and wondering why we can't remember to get curtain rods while we're out. (For clarity's sake: I'm the one cursing the sunlight. The oatmeal eating children are stunningly chipper at the moment.) I know I ought to have a plan, but for the life of me, I can't get one to come together.
Well, it's probably not going to come to me, sitting here writing. Guess I'll go do the next thing and perhaps it'll all come together, no?
Have a wonderful day, and Happy Halloween!
Kiss those ghouls!
~Dy
Tuesday, October 31
Monday, October 30
Home Remodel, Stardate -317828.44
(Yeah, that really is the stardate - cool, huh?)
Well, we have a floor. It's currently five feet high, piled in the foyer and the guest room. But it's ours, baby! And having it here, taking up space, is much like getting a Vitamin B12 shot - we're ready to roll! The energy and motivation those boxes have spread throughout the house is nothing short of amazing. Even my beloved caffeine can no longer give me this boost.
And so, today we'll finish lessons early, head to Lowe's for more primer (because, evidently you kind of need that to paint a door -pfft- details, details), some screen and spline (because there's that whole pesky issue of storm windows and the desire to see through them, open them. whatever.) then home again to finish our work.
The flooring we purchased from iFloor.com - wonderful people to work with. We arrived right at closing time, thanks to our unfamiliarity with time zones and the fact that we'd be crossing one. But if Darlene and Jonathan from the Dalton store were quietly wishing us a slow and painful death from veering off the Interstate on the way home, they never let on. We appreciate that. They were most helpful, interactive, and thoughtful. I know that, for them, flooring is a daily thing. They probably have nightmares about wood floors battling it out with laminates. Everybody they meet is putting in a new floor, and soooo excited about it, and thinks they're the only people in the world who have ever done so. We get that. But they also treated us as if they cared that we're putting in a new floor, they were enthused by our excitement of it, and they never once felt the need to inform us that - hello! - it's an entire industry and no, we're not the only people in the world who have ever done this. That's salesmanship. Plus, they complimented the boys and thought Miss Emily was too cute. ;-)
We left with something completely different than what we'd intended to pick up. We got there, and it didn't say "buy me" the way it did on the computer. After an hour, Zorak clicked on what wasn't quite right about the kind we'd originally chosen. It looked great online, but in person, it was... mmm... well, he leaned over and whispered, "Doesn't that look just like the paneling we pulled out?" I snatched Baby Girl up off that sample and tried very hard not to let my flashbacks show. We went with something else. (Consider this a warning - shopping online can be a lot like internet dating. The hunk in the dark oak you met online could turn out to be nothing but a drunk in a dark paneling wife beater!)
We went with this. It's a little bold, but so was the Adobe Ghetto in the kitchen, and we love that. This goes with the cream, the green, and the adobe colors. I think we're going to love it. And if we don't, that's okay, too, because with four children, I doubt it'll be visible most of the time, anyway.
Sooo, between now and Wednesday, with lessons and Halloween thrown in there for good measure, I've got to get this house Floor Ready (you didn't actually think our plan worked last weekend, did you?) The goal today is to ship out boxes: boxes of clothes, boxes of borrowed things, boxes of gifts. There will not be anything left in our house that is not ours, or should not be ours. This is mydream, er, goal.
And now I've got to go actually be productive, rather than just writing about it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Well, we have a floor. It's currently five feet high, piled in the foyer and the guest room. But it's ours, baby! And having it here, taking up space, is much like getting a Vitamin B12 shot - we're ready to roll! The energy and motivation those boxes have spread throughout the house is nothing short of amazing. Even my beloved caffeine can no longer give me this boost.
And so, today we'll finish lessons early, head to Lowe's for more primer (because, evidently you kind of need that to paint a door -pfft- details, details), some screen and spline (because there's that whole pesky issue of storm windows and the desire to see through them, open them. whatever.) then home again to finish our work.
The flooring we purchased from iFloor.com - wonderful people to work with. We arrived right at closing time, thanks to our unfamiliarity with time zones and the fact that we'd be crossing one. But if Darlene and Jonathan from the Dalton store were quietly wishing us a slow and painful death from veering off the Interstate on the way home, they never let on. We appreciate that. They were most helpful, interactive, and thoughtful. I know that, for them, flooring is a daily thing. They probably have nightmares about wood floors battling it out with laminates. Everybody they meet is putting in a new floor, and soooo excited about it, and thinks they're the only people in the world who have ever done so. We get that. But they also treated us as if they cared that we're putting in a new floor, they were enthused by our excitement of it, and they never once felt the need to inform us that - hello! - it's an entire industry and no, we're not the only people in the world who have ever done this. That's salesmanship. Plus, they complimented the boys and thought Miss Emily was too cute. ;-)
We left with something completely different than what we'd intended to pick up. We got there, and it didn't say "buy me" the way it did on the computer. After an hour, Zorak clicked on what wasn't quite right about the kind we'd originally chosen. It looked great online, but in person, it was... mmm... well, he leaned over and whispered, "Doesn't that look just like the paneling we pulled out?" I snatched Baby Girl up off that sample and tried very hard not to let my flashbacks show. We went with something else. (Consider this a warning - shopping online can be a lot like internet dating. The hunk in the dark oak you met online could turn out to be nothing but a drunk in a dark paneling wife beater!)
We went with this. It's a little bold, but so was the Adobe Ghetto in the kitchen, and we love that. This goes with the cream, the green, and the adobe colors. I think we're going to love it. And if we don't, that's okay, too, because with four children, I doubt it'll be visible most of the time, anyway.
Sooo, between now and Wednesday, with lessons and Halloween thrown in there for good measure, I've got to get this house Floor Ready (you didn't actually think our plan worked last weekend, did you?) The goal today is to ship out boxes: boxes of clothes, boxes of borrowed things, boxes of gifts. There will not be anything left in our house that is not ours, or should not be ours. This is my
And now I've got to go actually be productive, rather than just writing about it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, October 29
Party like a pirate!
Well, you'd think I'd have taken more photos, what with all the effort that went into this little project. But once he was in the suit, he was in character. Who knew pirates moved so quickly?
We made it to the party, had a fantastic time, ate tons of food (we brought beans and cornbread, homemade chips and green chile con queso - my mouth is still on fire). Most all of the photos have other people's children in them, and I am too tired to crop or blur all the faces, so I've only got a couple of pics. The Dads were great sports, and I think this was the all-around favorite game of the night:
Smidge went as Bob the Builder, but he wouldn't wear the hardhat. He kept it in sight the entire time, but just wouldn't put it on. He did, however, have a fantastic time!
I couldn't get James to hold still for any other pictures, and I was holding Miss Emily most of the time, so didn't get any shots of her but one (and I haven't edited out the background noise in that one yet). But for now, as you can see, we made it. We had a great time. And the costume has held up to a full 24 hours of wear so far! Yay, Tony!!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, October 28
A joke from James
Q: Who do you need to find when your serger's broken?
A: A sergeron.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
A: A sergeron.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, October 27
TLM - Reprise
Ahhh, the Phoenix rises from the ashes, thanks to the kindness of Tony, the owner and Super Duper Repair guy of S&R Sewing and Vacuum Center in Decatur. I'd called the Huntsville store (along with every store in a three county radius) this morning, and they'd said he was swamped, but if I dropped it off, he'd try to take a look at it. I said thanks, but explained that there was a little boy who kept poking his head in, asking if he was a pirate yet, and that I'd try another store. I understand that lack of preparation on my part does not constitute an emergency on anyone else's part. Besides, they're having a big Grand Opening sale and they really are swamped.
The phone rang about five minutes later. It was the lady from S&R. Could I get to Decatur by nine? Tony would be there, and he would see what he could do.
Glorioski! Christmas come early! I made everybody throw on clothes and shoes and off we went, in the rain, singing made-up songs about mom's incompetence and Nice Mr. Tony. He looked at it and said he'd have it fixed in an hour. AN HOUR? Oh. How. Cool. So we scouted out a little diner to have breakfast and hide from the rain while we waited. We ate til we thought we'd pop, then slogged back through the rain to pick up our little serger. All fixed and shiny and happy. And even better, a little square of Ghirardelli Dark chocolate tucked under the presser foot. (I think I'm in love!)
The sparkly woman-bling shirt is now a fairly piratey looking vest. The white shirt has been laced. The boots have their wee pirate spats (for lack of a better term). Just have to alter the britches a bit and do a little detail work. And best of all?
It's only 1:30!!
This means we are not going to have to arrive at the party with John dressed as a leaf bag! He's so excited.
Yay!!
Dy
The phone rang about five minutes later. It was the lady from S&R. Could I get to Decatur by nine? Tony would be there, and he would see what he could do.
Glorioski! Christmas come early! I made everybody throw on clothes and shoes and off we went, in the rain, singing made-up songs about mom's incompetence and Nice Mr. Tony. He looked at it and said he'd have it fixed in an hour. AN HOUR? Oh. How. Cool. So we scouted out a little diner to have breakfast and hide from the rain while we waited. We ate til we thought we'd pop, then slogged back through the rain to pick up our little serger. All fixed and shiny and happy. And even better, a little square of Ghirardelli Dark chocolate tucked under the presser foot. (I think I'm in love!)
The sparkly woman-bling shirt is now a fairly piratey looking vest. The white shirt has been laced. The boots have their wee pirate spats (for lack of a better term). Just have to alter the britches a bit and do a little detail work. And best of all?
It's only 1:30!!
This means we are not going to have to arrive at the party with John dressed as a leaf bag! He's so excited.
Yay!!
Dy
Thursday, October 26
TLM - 11:35PM
DENIED!!
Man, betrayed by the technology my grandmother adored. It's a decaying process. Her daughter could not use the things, and I, evidently emit some sort of magnetic pulse that causes metal to lock up. (And yes, it's been oiled. Honest.) So, the serger is dead. The sewing machine has no cord. Not sure which of us thought it would be wise to pack a sewing machine separately from its cord, but there ya have it.
Jess thinks I'm insane. She's nice about it, but I know she does. ;-) It's not so much the thrill of it that I love. Not a big thrill-seeker. It's the idea of doing things (making costumes, decorating BEFORE Christmas Eve, buying Easter baskets and actually having time enough left that they need to be stashed away) that I love. The thought that sustains me all year long is that "next year I'll do better". But while I'm wistfully dreaming of "next year" and how wonderful it'll be and how together I'll be, "next year" sneaks up behind me and plants its foot in my, um, plans. Every time.
That's it. I'm buying Christmas presents online on Monday.
And now, I'm going to scroll through the yellow pages and line up possibilities. Perhaps somebody will take my serger in tomorrow morning and I can still make the 5PM party? Then I'm making a fresh pot of coffee and staring into space, darnit.
Ah, well, there's always tomorrow!
Dy
Man, betrayed by the technology my grandmother adored. It's a decaying process. Her daughter could not use the things, and I, evidently emit some sort of magnetic pulse that causes metal to lock up. (And yes, it's been oiled. Honest.) So, the serger is dead. The sewing machine has no cord. Not sure which of us thought it would be wise to pack a sewing machine separately from its cord, but there ya have it.
Jess thinks I'm insane. She's nice about it, but I know she does. ;-) It's not so much the thrill of it that I love. Not a big thrill-seeker. It's the idea of doing things (making costumes, decorating BEFORE Christmas Eve, buying Easter baskets and actually having time enough left that they need to be stashed away) that I love. The thought that sustains me all year long is that "next year I'll do better". But while I'm wistfully dreaming of "next year" and how wonderful it'll be and how together I'll be, "next year" sneaks up behind me and plants its foot in my, um, plans. Every time.
That's it. I'm buying Christmas presents online on Monday.
And now, I'm going to scroll through the yellow pages and line up possibilities. Perhaps somebody will take my serger in tomorrow morning and I can still make the 5PM party? Then I'm making a fresh pot of coffee and staring into space, darnit.
Ah, well, there's always tomorrow!
Dy
TLM - 8:38PM
Since last I posted...
I couldn't find my pins, so I stapled the soon-to-be-vest in order to size it. I'm sure it will turn out okay, but I can't say I'd recommend this as a "crafty alternative in a pinch". Just don't do it. The older kids think it's weird, and the younger ones get ideas. Bad, bad ideas.
The vest is ready for sewing.
The stapler is way up high.
Looked for the machines again. Got creeped out after ten minutes and came back upstairs.
Zorak got home. We all pounced on him with our glee and delight. He gave me one of those, "Have you been drinking?" looks. Hmpf. Back down to the basement.
WE FOUND THE MACHINES!!!
Why is my sewing machine missing the foot pedal?
Oh well. So, um, that all took place about an hour ago. Since then I've been battling the serger. I'm losing.
John's walking around in a pair of jeans and a dangly clip-on earring... I think he's a bit anxious.
Dy
I couldn't find my pins, so I stapled the soon-to-be-vest in order to size it. I'm sure it will turn out okay, but I can't say I'd recommend this as a "crafty alternative in a pinch". Just don't do it. The older kids think it's weird, and the younger ones get ideas. Bad, bad ideas.
The vest is ready for sewing.
The stapler is way up high.
Looked for the machines again. Got creeped out after ten minutes and came back upstairs.
Zorak got home. We all pounced on him with our glee and delight. He gave me one of those, "Have you been drinking?" looks. Hmpf. Back down to the basement.
WE FOUND THE MACHINES!!!
Why is my sewing machine missing the foot pedal?
Oh well. So, um, that all took place about an hour ago. Since then I've been battling the serger. I'm losing.
John's walking around in a pair of jeans and a dangly clip-on earring... I think he's a bit anxious.
Dy
TLM - 6:39PM
OK, so maybe I just haven't had enough coffee today, but just WHAT is so interesting about picking a seam? I swear, they couldn't have stuck to me any tighter if I'd been hiding chocolate in my pocket, hoping they'd leave so I could eat it. Not that, you know, I've... oh, who am I kidding. I've done that, and worse. And if I had it now, I'd be hiding, eating it.
Anyway, that's it. It's been over an hour and I've picked the seams out of two sleeves to remove them from the top. That. Is. It. Smidge is wearing one sleeve on his head. Kinda looks like a pharoah's head gear. James is picking the length of the seam on the other sleeve for me. I fantasize that the sleeves will become (magically, while I sleep) pockets for the vest.
I can't find my serger or sewing machine. Now that I think about it, I've asked Zorak several times over the past week to bring them up and always he says he will, but then forgets. I suspect he can't find them, either. They're really quite well-hidden. Did find the snap press. Perhaps Zorak can whip up a Boogie Nights outfit for himself this evening? But the kid's gonna go as a homeless petty officer in peacetime if I don't pick up the pace.
Dy
Anyway, that's it. It's been over an hour and I've picked the seams out of two sleeves to remove them from the top. That. Is. It. Smidge is wearing one sleeve on his head. Kinda looks like a pharoah's head gear. James is picking the length of the seam on the other sleeve for me. I fantasize that the sleeves will become (magically, while I sleep) pockets for the vest.
I can't find my serger or sewing machine. Now that I think about it, I've asked Zorak several times over the past week to bring them up and always he says he will, but then forgets. I suspect he can't find them, either. They're really quite well-hidden. Did find the snap press. Perhaps Zorak can whip up a Boogie Nights outfit for himself this evening? But the kid's gonna go as a homeless petty officer in peacetime if I don't pick up the pace.
Dy
The Last Minute...
*said in my best voice over*
Welcome to The Last Minute! This is it, folks. This is when the magic happens. Right here, at The Last Minute.
This is when you realize you can staple together the front of a costume rather than add velcro. This is when a specific cowboy becomes Any Old Cowboy, and you can use the threat of candy for acceptance of the changes. This is when sweats become bats, and if you say it IS a monkey head often enough, it will magically become a monkey head.
This is when the rubber hits the couch and things go all awry out there on the road. This is... My Finest Hour.
It is 5:24PM (according to the clock on the computer. I have no idea what time it is out there in the real world, but let's just assume that a minute is sixty seconds anywhere and follow along on the whole lapsed time thing and we'll all be good to go.)
I have, sitting in bags before me: a sparkly blue and gold shirt for a well-endowed woman, a fuzzy scarf, a pair of jeans that must have been part of some grown man's Hulk costume a few years back, a belt, half a yard of black vinyl, an old lady's neckerchief, a couple of "decorator rings" (whatever those are), and a spool of thread.
Can this become a pirate?
Can this become a pirate before tomorrow?
Will he live this down?
Or will this imbue me with inspiration for blackmail in twelve short years?
Only time will tell, but anything can happen at The Last Minute... it's the most wonderful tiiiiiiiime, of the yeeeeeeear!
Dy
Welcome to The Last Minute! This is it, folks. This is when the magic happens. Right here, at The Last Minute.
This is when you realize you can staple together the front of a costume rather than add velcro. This is when a specific cowboy becomes Any Old Cowboy, and you can use the threat of candy for acceptance of the changes. This is when sweats become bats, and if you say it IS a monkey head often enough, it will magically become a monkey head.
This is when the rubber hits the couch and things go all awry out there on the road. This is... My Finest Hour.
It is 5:24PM (according to the clock on the computer. I have no idea what time it is out there in the real world, but let's just assume that a minute is sixty seconds anywhere and follow along on the whole lapsed time thing and we'll all be good to go.)
I have, sitting in bags before me: a sparkly blue and gold shirt for a well-endowed woman, a fuzzy scarf, a pair of jeans that must have been part of some grown man's Hulk costume a few years back, a belt, half a yard of black vinyl, an old lady's neckerchief, a couple of "decorator rings" (whatever those are), and a spool of thread.
Can this become a pirate?
Can this become a pirate before tomorrow?
Will he live this down?
Or will this imbue me with inspiration for blackmail in twelve short years?
Only time will tell, but anything can happen at The Last Minute... it's the most wonderful tiiiiiiiime, of the yeeeeeeear!
Dy
Wednesday, October 25
Potential
Some days have the potential to be inspiring days, filled with exploration and joy; days bursting with goodness and gentleness, much like a 1970's fabric softener commercial. Today may have had that potential, but we didn't pull it off. It started off on a weird note when Zorak woke me by handing me a crying, stinky baby at 7:30, with the admonition, "Here ya go. I've gotta run." What? Where's the alarm clock? Or, barring the alarm, where's the coffee?
I should have cancelled the dentist appointment, stayed home, cooked, and read. Next time my day starts like that, I think I will.
It was a rough one, just weird from start to finish. There were even a few things that were simply too odd to sort out. My personal favorite came tonight, from James. I cannot share the context, (because I was hiding and refused to go see what was going on - Zorak had the helm, and I left him to it). All I know is that the child was in tears when he uttered this phrase. I may never know the rest of the story.:
Come to think of it, we may not want to know...
Miss Emily is firmly entrenched in her 9 month growth spurt. Hiking across the desert in August with nothing but a bag of pork rinds wouldn't leave a person so parched.
Costumes: mostly figured out. I think. The only one that's going to require actual effort on my part tomorrow is John's pirate costume. Gotta dig up the sewing machine (and then find a place to use it... and then figure out what I'm doing.) James plans to re-tread his Superman costume, and our Wonderful Friends have come to the rescue with an outgrown Bob the Builder costume Smidge can wear. I bought a hardhat and yellow spraypaint today to round out the look. Miss Emily is set to be a ladybug.
All's well that ends well, though. We began Farmer Boy tonight, and had lights off around eight-thirty. Everyone was out by nine. James got back up around ten and said he was hungry. I gave him a banana and some warm milk, and we read a bit of Tucket's Travels together while he snacked and we snuggled. Then he brushed his teeth and headed to bed. I don't think he was hungry, really. I think he just didn't like ending the day on a sour note and needed a little more comfort. That's good, I think. I'm glad that comfort is the norm for him.
I'm glad that's the norm for all of us. It ensures that we'll work harder together, as a team, to make tomorrow a better day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I should have cancelled the dentist appointment, stayed home, cooked, and read. Next time my day starts like that, I think I will.
It was a rough one, just weird from start to finish. There were even a few things that were simply too odd to sort out. My personal favorite came tonight, from James. I cannot share the context, (because I was hiding and refused to go see what was going on - Zorak had the helm, and I left him to it). All I know is that the child was in tears when he uttered this phrase. I may never know the rest of the story.:
Well, would you want to lick my tongue?
Come to think of it, we may not want to know...
Miss Emily is firmly entrenched in her 9 month growth spurt. Hiking across the desert in August with nothing but a bag of pork rinds wouldn't leave a person so parched.
Costumes: mostly figured out. I think. The only one that's going to require actual effort on my part tomorrow is John's pirate costume. Gotta dig up the sewing machine (and then find a place to use it... and then figure out what I'm doing.) James plans to re-tread his Superman costume, and our Wonderful Friends have come to the rescue with an outgrown Bob the Builder costume Smidge can wear. I bought a hardhat and yellow spraypaint today to round out the look. Miss Emily is set to be a ladybug.
All's well that ends well, though. We began Farmer Boy tonight, and had lights off around eight-thirty. Everyone was out by nine. James got back up around ten and said he was hungry. I gave him a banana and some warm milk, and we read a bit of Tucket's Travels together while he snacked and we snuggled. Then he brushed his teeth and headed to bed. I don't think he was hungry, really. I think he just didn't like ending the day on a sour note and needed a little more comfort. That's good, I think. I'm glad that comfort is the norm for him.
I'm glad that's the norm for all of us. It ensures that we'll work harder together, as a team, to make tomorrow a better day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, October 24
A meme?
I always think about doing these, but never get around to doing them. But then Becca tagged me, officially, so I thought I'd give it a try. This is a "Ten Random Facts About Me" meme. Are these supposed to be little known things? Or do we shoot for weird things? Or is it just truly random? Ok, ok, I've got the first one:
1. I draw a total blank when asked a relatively vague question.
So here goes.10 9 Random thoughts about me...
2. Zorak kicks my butt at "Name that Band" - every time. I have some kind of musical turret's that causes me to shout "Bob Seger" at the most inappropriate moments.
3. I didn't learn to dance until I was 22.
4. I studied Italian for two years, in the hope I would one day be called to serve as a missionary in Italy. (Yeah, I know, that's an odd way to go about it. I was twelve. That's about all I can say on that one.)
5. Up until about six months after I'd met Zorak, neither marriage nor motherhood was on my radar. At all. Ever.
6. I can wrestle a stud wall into place, rebuild an engine, and sew a straight line, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what to fix for lunch!
7. Although I'm not a fan of some of the technology available, I must admit that I got a little thrill in my knees when I saw the new commercial for a vehicle that will parallel park for you.
8. I used to train to be a powerlifter. (Laney, shush!)
9. I've never smoked pot or taken any illegal narcotic substance.
10. Coffee. Good thing it's legal, right?
Ok, that fruffnsnuffn dagburned dryer buzzer just woke the baby. I tag anyone who hasn't done this yet, but thinks it look like fun! I'll catch y'all later.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
1. I draw a total blank when asked a relatively vague question.
So here goes.
2. Zorak kicks my butt at "Name that Band" - every time. I have some kind of musical turret's that causes me to shout "Bob Seger" at the most inappropriate moments.
3. I didn't learn to dance until I was 22.
4. I studied Italian for two years, in the hope I would one day be called to serve as a missionary in Italy. (Yeah, I know, that's an odd way to go about it. I was twelve. That's about all I can say on that one.)
5. Up until about six months after I'd met Zorak, neither marriage nor motherhood was on my radar. At all. Ever.
6. I can wrestle a stud wall into place, rebuild an engine, and sew a straight line, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what to fix for lunch!
7. Although I'm not a fan of some of the technology available, I must admit that I got a little thrill in my knees when I saw the new commercial for a vehicle that will parallel park for you.
8. I used to train to be a powerlifter. (Laney, shush!)
9. I've never smoked pot or taken any illegal narcotic substance.
10. Coffee. Good thing it's legal, right?
Ok, that fruffnsnuffn dagburned dryer buzzer just woke the baby. I tag anyone who hasn't done this yet, but thinks it look like fun! I'll catch y'all later.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, October 23
Dentists and Cabinets and Bugs, Oh my!
Blogging and heading for bed tonight! The low is supposed to be around 28. We haven't hooked up the propane to the HVAC yet, and the behemoth stove is still in exile in the basement, so it's gonna be a cold one tonight! (We're loving the beautiful days, but this cold snap at night caught us off guard. Thank heaven for space heaters!)
The checkups for the boys went fairly well. No plaque, no tartar, happy gums, clean tongues. Everything that is supposed to be receiving excellent attention and maintenance, is receiving excellent attention and maintenance (yay!) But they STILL all have new cavities! Every. Single. Child. (argh!) WHY is this happening? The dentist is very nice about it, but somehow he comes across as if he's saying, "You really suck at this, ya know." I *know* that's not what he means, but... *sigh* He's convinced it's a diet thing, now.
So we did the routine Q&A:
Do they drink a lot of juice?
Mmm, no. In the past six months, they've had juice maybe, MAYBE twice a week. If that.
Kool-Aid?
No, we don't even buy that. Or sodas. They have soda perhaps twice a month. When we eat out, we all drink water. When they're "thirsty", I give them water. We really drink a lot of water.
Sugar before bed, or drinks at bedtime?
Nope. Nothing passes those lips but water after their teeth are brushed.
Candy?
Unh-uh. I tried the chocolate chips with lessons thing, but that was more work than it was worth and lasted a whopping two days out of the past three years. So, um, no. We never eat taffy, and they don't eat caramels or nougats... (of course, I'll have to fess up on Wednesday that *I* eat all the caramels at night, while the children are sleeping. My diet is deplorable, but theirs is great!)
Processed foods like snack cakes and cookies?
Uh, wheat allergy means any cakes and cookies we do eat are homemade and generally free of a lot of the gunk. No high-fructose corn syrup. WAY less sugar than store-bought things.
Really, we're a LOT better than my mother was with me! *grin*
They're already little flossing maniacs. The teeth are clean, just... weak? We're going to add a third brushing to our daily routine: a light brushing with baking soda after lunch. And the boys readily agreed to a total moratorium on any and all junk food from now until their next checkups (although Zorak kindly mentioned certain upcoming holidays, so that will need to be renegotiated a bit). Perhaps that will work.
In the meantime, poor Smidge has a referral to a pediatric specialist. His front teeth overlap slightly on the edges, and the dentist said there is decay at each spot where the teeth rest against each other. He'd like to put crowns on all four front teeth. (I don't know that we're going to follow that recommendation. Figure we'll talk with the specialist first and go from there.) It breaks my heart, and we feel like absolute loser parents for this, but when we stand back and look objectively... we can't really find anything obvious that's causing it. Maybe we need to take them in for a blood workup? Would a blood serum calcium deficiency cause this kind of problem? Anybody else with good diet and hygiene still run into dental problems in their little ones?
After the lengthy visit, we hit the library, where we returned our books for the THIRD TIME IN A ROW without late fines! WOOHOO, we're on a roll! Maybe someday soon John will stop referring to our visits as "renting" books from the library. ;-) All stocked up for the week with some wonderful reads!
Then, as a treat for a day well-executed, we headed to Cook's Natural Science Museum. It's a little place, but just the right size when you're eight and six and three. Very friendly staff. Incredibly diverse collection. They have an historic mousetrap collection, insects from around the world, aquatic and regional critters... the ladies there were very knowledgable and shared tons of interesting information with the boys. The boys had a delightful time exploring the many hands-on exhibits and discussing the interesting, detailed displays. I think this will be one of our regular hot spots for a while. Good way to enjoy the afternoon.
We did meet with Patient Mr. Cabinet Guy. He's so... patient. He couldn't really answer our concern about putting the Swiss Army Cabinet against a wall. Said he's done it before, and hasn't heard any complaints, but acknowledged that people don't always complain to the salesman or managers when they're unhappy. He'd put in a few calls, but didn't get any satisfactory information. So, we'll have to swing by Lowe's (because Home Depot does not have any of the tall cabinets on display other than one lone, empty pantry) to see what's up with the angles and whether it's worth trying to make it fit. In case it's a no-go, though, Patient Mr. Cabinet Guy did help us design two other very feasible options, both of which would move the microwave from atop the fridge. Zorak's eyes twinkled, and he obviously preferred both of those options to the Swiss Army Cabinet. (Something about balancing scalding leftovers above your head with small children darting between your feet as if on a dare... makes him nervous.) So, we'll see. Like I told the boys, now Mommy and Daddy have to go sit and stare at one another until one of us comes up with an answer.
And Miss Emily? She was a TROOPER today. Granted, she passed out every time we got back in the car, so she was a little dazed for the first half hour at each stop. But she was just her normal, happy, clapping, giggling little self. She's like carrying around a ball of sunshine wherever we go. Gotta love that!
Well, I can't feel my fingers now, so I'm going to go before the typos get too bad to correct.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The checkups for the boys went fairly well. No plaque, no tartar, happy gums, clean tongues. Everything that is supposed to be receiving excellent attention and maintenance, is receiving excellent attention and maintenance (yay!) But they STILL all have new cavities! Every. Single. Child. (argh!) WHY is this happening? The dentist is very nice about it, but somehow he comes across as if he's saying, "You really suck at this, ya know." I *know* that's not what he means, but... *sigh* He's convinced it's a diet thing, now.
So we did the routine Q&A:
Do they drink a lot of juice?
Mmm, no. In the past six months, they've had juice maybe, MAYBE twice a week. If that.
Kool-Aid?
No, we don't even buy that. Or sodas. They have soda perhaps twice a month. When we eat out, we all drink water. When they're "thirsty", I give them water. We really drink a lot of water.
Sugar before bed, or drinks at bedtime?
Nope. Nothing passes those lips but water after their teeth are brushed.
Candy?
Unh-uh. I tried the chocolate chips with lessons thing, but that was more work than it was worth and lasted a whopping two days out of the past three years. So, um, no. We never eat taffy, and they don't eat caramels or nougats... (of course, I'll have to fess up on Wednesday that *I* eat all the caramels at night, while the children are sleeping. My diet is deplorable, but theirs is great!)
Processed foods like snack cakes and cookies?
Uh, wheat allergy means any cakes and cookies we do eat are homemade and generally free of a lot of the gunk. No high-fructose corn syrup. WAY less sugar than store-bought things.
Really, we're a LOT better than my mother was with me! *grin*
They're already little flossing maniacs. The teeth are clean, just... weak? We're going to add a third brushing to our daily routine: a light brushing with baking soda after lunch. And the boys readily agreed to a total moratorium on any and all junk food from now until their next checkups (although Zorak kindly mentioned certain upcoming holidays, so that will need to be renegotiated a bit). Perhaps that will work.
In the meantime, poor Smidge has a referral to a pediatric specialist. His front teeth overlap slightly on the edges, and the dentist said there is decay at each spot where the teeth rest against each other. He'd like to put crowns on all four front teeth. (I don't know that we're going to follow that recommendation. Figure we'll talk with the specialist first and go from there.) It breaks my heart, and we feel like absolute loser parents for this, but when we stand back and look objectively... we can't really find anything obvious that's causing it. Maybe we need to take them in for a blood workup? Would a blood serum calcium deficiency cause this kind of problem? Anybody else with good diet and hygiene still run into dental problems in their little ones?
After the lengthy visit, we hit the library, where we returned our books for the THIRD TIME IN A ROW without late fines! WOOHOO, we're on a roll! Maybe someday soon John will stop referring to our visits as "renting" books from the library. ;-) All stocked up for the week with some wonderful reads!
Then, as a treat for a day well-executed, we headed to Cook's Natural Science Museum. It's a little place, but just the right size when you're eight and six and three. Very friendly staff. Incredibly diverse collection. They have an historic mousetrap collection, insects from around the world, aquatic and regional critters... the ladies there were very knowledgable and shared tons of interesting information with the boys. The boys had a delightful time exploring the many hands-on exhibits and discussing the interesting, detailed displays. I think this will be one of our regular hot spots for a while. Good way to enjoy the afternoon.
We did meet with Patient Mr. Cabinet Guy. He's so... patient. He couldn't really answer our concern about putting the Swiss Army Cabinet against a wall. Said he's done it before, and hasn't heard any complaints, but acknowledged that people don't always complain to the salesman or managers when they're unhappy. He'd put in a few calls, but didn't get any satisfactory information. So, we'll have to swing by Lowe's (because Home Depot does not have any of the tall cabinets on display other than one lone, empty pantry) to see what's up with the angles and whether it's worth trying to make it fit. In case it's a no-go, though, Patient Mr. Cabinet Guy did help us design two other very feasible options, both of which would move the microwave from atop the fridge. Zorak's eyes twinkled, and he obviously preferred both of those options to the Swiss Army Cabinet. (Something about balancing scalding leftovers above your head with small children darting between your feet as if on a dare... makes him nervous.) So, we'll see. Like I told the boys, now Mommy and Daddy have to go sit and stare at one another until one of us comes up with an answer.
And Miss Emily? She was a TROOPER today. Granted, she passed out every time we got back in the car, so she was a little dazed for the first half hour at each stop. But she was just her normal, happy, clapping, giggling little self. She's like carrying around a ball of sunshine wherever we go. Gotta love that!
Well, I can't feel my fingers now, so I'm going to go before the typos get too bad to correct.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, October 22
General Stuff
OH yeah, after the grandfather comment from earlier in the week, Zorak got carded for beer at the market yesterday! I'd forgotten about that. (Although I did laugh. Quite heartily.) So, go figure. Is he eighteen... or eighty? Dun-da-daaa! He's Chameleon Man!
Today, we worked. We primed and cleaned and moved. We chopped and sorted and stacked. We changed our minds a hundredtybillion times (maybe more) about the Swiss Army Cabinet. We hunted down Patient Mr. Cabinet Man, who has moved to another store and still can't get away from us. (OK, it was a promotion and he gets to work M-F now, rather than "retail hours". I'm pretty sure it wasn't us. Not entirely.) We'll meet with him tomorrow and order us a cabinet of some kind! Wahoo!
Today Iburned, er, baked not one loaf of bread, but three, and three batches of cinnamon rolls. Sunday, it turns out, is not a good baking day for me. Most of it was edible. The upside to today's baking fiasco is that we will have bread pudding for breakfast tomorrow, because that's what we do with the failed wheat-free loaves.
The wheat-free loaf would have turned out perfectly, had any one of the six of us in this house had heard the timer beep. Of course, that would have saved the bread that was already in the oven, as well. But, ah, no. And so, two loaves burnt and one loaf overproofed to the point of reaching critical mass and imploding. Zorak has already eaten most of one of the whole wheat loaves I made. Maybe it's a sympathy play. Or one of KathyJo's euphemisms. The cinnamon rolls, actually, weren't "burnt", but they didn't get removed from the muffin tins in time and what was supposed to be the caramel glaze cooled into... a praline-style Gorilla Glue. Ick.
Tomorrow we have three, possibly four, dental appointments. At nine in the morning. I tried to schedule for a Friday so Zorak could go with us, but the office is no longer open on Fridays. Don't know what's up with that, but considering the amount of business they get from our family, I'm thinkin' they could open on Friday, see us all, close up shop as we leave, and make out like bandits. Maybe I'll talk to them about that tomorrow. ;-)
And so, to bed. Tomorrow's going to come way too early!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Today, we worked. We primed and cleaned and moved. We chopped and sorted and stacked. We changed our minds a hundredtybillion times (maybe more) about the Swiss Army Cabinet. We hunted down Patient Mr. Cabinet Man, who has moved to another store and still can't get away from us. (OK, it was a promotion and he gets to work M-F now, rather than "retail hours". I'm pretty sure it wasn't us. Not entirely.) We'll meet with him tomorrow and order us a cabinet of some kind! Wahoo!
Today I
The wheat-free loaf would have turned out perfectly, had any one of the six of us in this house had heard the timer beep. Of course, that would have saved the bread that was already in the oven, as well. But, ah, no. And so, two loaves burnt and one loaf overproofed to the point of reaching critical mass and imploding. Zorak has already eaten most of one of the whole wheat loaves I made. Maybe it's a sympathy play. Or one of KathyJo's euphemisms. The cinnamon rolls, actually, weren't "burnt", but they didn't get removed from the muffin tins in time and what was supposed to be the caramel glaze cooled into... a praline-style Gorilla Glue. Ick.
Tomorrow we have three, possibly four, dental appointments. At nine in the morning. I tried to schedule for a Friday so Zorak could go with us, but the office is no longer open on Fridays. Don't know what's up with that, but considering the amount of business they get from our family, I'm thinkin' they could open on Friday, see us all, close up shop as we leave, and make out like bandits. Maybe I'll talk to them about that tomorrow. ;-)
And so, to bed. Tomorrow's going to come way too early!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Kind of different...
This has been the week for unexpected comments from strangers! None of them have been bad, per se, just... odd.
Comment #1:
While we were eating out last week, Zorak noticed that a couple of older, grandmotherly types were eyeballing the baby. Miss Emily was in good form, and so he took her over to say hello (much to the delight of said eyeballers). It seemed like such a routine exchange of pleasantries and reminiscences, until one of the ladies asked Zorak, "Are these all your grandchildren?"
*blink* *blink*
"What?"
"Your grandchildren, are they all yours?"
BWAAHAAHAAAA!!! (I can laugh. It wasn't me. This time.)
Maybe it's the beard.
Comment #2:
Then today, we were at the mall, trying to track down comforters for the boys. We paused at a stall which displayed blinking things. No, we didn't expect to find blankets there, but those lights -- they drew James like a staticky television will draw an unsuspecting little blonde girl. So, as he's staring into the light, the gentleman manning the booth and I struck up a conversation. All seems normal, when out of nowhere, he says, "Where are you from?"
(Side note: I hate this question. Around here, people mean, "Did you travel all the way from Priceville, or are you from here in town?" But this guy wasn't from here, his accent was faintly Mediterranean, with a bit of an Indian lilt to it. So I wasn't sure if he meant here-here, or around-here, here...)
In going with our Forever Home theme (This Is Home), I said we were from our little town. He cocked his head and asked, very slowly, the way some people will do when they think you're not quite proficient with the language, "But where are you from?"
Oh, well, we're from New Mexico. *smile* (OK, answered that one without looking like too much of an idiot. Meanwhile, James is still staring intently at the lights.)
But no, again with the question. This time, a bit more slowly. I just stared at him, because, frankly, I was no longer certain I understood his question properly. Finally, he says, "You're not European?"
When my laughter died down a bit, he explained that he thought for sure we were from the Netherlands, or perhaps Germany. Nothing he could pin down. We just "had that feel" about us.
Of course, he could have been from Texas, I guess. In the end, it doesn't really matter where we're from, as long as we can talk and visit and enjoy the interactions we have from day to day. And both conversations turned into delightful ones, in spite of their odd beginnings. I hope you have some delightful surprises in store for you this week!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Comment #1:
While we were eating out last week, Zorak noticed that a couple of older, grandmotherly types were eyeballing the baby. Miss Emily was in good form, and so he took her over to say hello (much to the delight of said eyeballers). It seemed like such a routine exchange of pleasantries and reminiscences, until one of the ladies asked Zorak, "Are these all your grandchildren?"
*blink* *blink*
"What?"
"Your grandchildren, are they all yours?"
BWAAHAAHAAAA!!! (I can laugh. It wasn't me. This time.)
Maybe it's the beard.
Comment #2:
Then today, we were at the mall, trying to track down comforters for the boys. We paused at a stall which displayed blinking things. No, we didn't expect to find blankets there, but those lights -- they drew James like a staticky television will draw an unsuspecting little blonde girl. So, as he's staring into the light, the gentleman manning the booth and I struck up a conversation. All seems normal, when out of nowhere, he says, "Where are you from?"
(Side note: I hate this question. Around here, people mean, "Did you travel all the way from Priceville, or are you from here in town?" But this guy wasn't from here, his accent was faintly Mediterranean, with a bit of an Indian lilt to it. So I wasn't sure if he meant here-here, or around-here, here...)
In going with our Forever Home theme (This Is Home), I said we were from our little town. He cocked his head and asked, very slowly, the way some people will do when they think you're not quite proficient with the language, "But where are you from?"
Oh, well, we're from New Mexico. *smile* (OK, answered that one without looking like too much of an idiot. Meanwhile, James is still staring intently at the lights.)
But no, again with the question. This time, a bit more slowly. I just stared at him, because, frankly, I was no longer certain I understood his question properly. Finally, he says, "You're not European?"
When my laughter died down a bit, he explained that he thought for sure we were from the Netherlands, or perhaps Germany. Nothing he could pin down. We just "had that feel" about us.
Of course, he could have been from Texas, I guess. In the end, it doesn't really matter where we're from, as long as we can talk and visit and enjoy the interactions we have from day to day. And both conversations turned into delightful ones, in spite of their odd beginnings. I hope you have some delightful surprises in store for you this week!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, October 21
Industrious Days
(A grouchy post)
This weekend is The Weekend of Preparation. We're not actually preparing for anything, but it makes us more productive if we have a goal. We've gone over all the little things that need doing - some obvious, like finishing the trim painting, others not so obvious until, say, it rains... that's like a big, soggy highlighter from God, there. Or the dental work I thought I could put off a while, until tonight. Anyway, I doubt we'll end up with a floor before Christmas; there are simply too many other pressing obligations. But that's okay. I'm glad we can take care of these things, and that's forward motion. I just asked that we take this weekend to get (and, by affiliation of said request, keep) the house "floor ready". You know, like normal people live.
I'm tired of the state of disarray, to be honest. Yes, this is a construction zone, but it's also our home. I'm tired of tripping over a shop-vac in my kitchen (I do move it, but it makes it way "home" while I'm not looking). I'm tired of the baby teething on the reversible screwdriver bits (just how many of those do we have, anyway?) I'm tired of not being able to scrub what floor we do have because it takes a full day to clear the junk up off of it before we can even get to the sweeping and vacuuming. And I won't even go into the shoes... those shoes that turn up everywhere... they're like the voices in the head of an Alfred Hitchcock antagonist.
I do what I can, but it's not enough. And I refuse to be a nag about this stuff - nagging won't help anymore than setting it on fire does. (Trust me.) But, as Zorak is fond of pointing out (sometimes at the most inopportune moments), I do have "control issues". So, going against my own grain in this endeavor is making me subtly and unpredictably grouchy. Well, perhaps not so subtly.
So today we buckled down and got to work. It was productive:
* School Room - sanded, textured, caulked and vacuumed check
* Boys Room - scoured and prepped for curtains and hanging IKEA thingies check
* Nursery - ... um, didn't get around to the nursery
* Basement - I don't even ask anymore, but I heard noises that sounded too big to be mice, and there are more boxes in the foyer, so I'm guessing something was done on that front check
* Clutter -
- library books rounded up check
- paper from the Alter of Incoming Bills cleared out check
- baby clothes sorted for washing (this time it's the baby boy clothes) check
* Pantry - actually rethinking the pantry option, but we will order something this week. Oh, yes, we will. check (In the meantime, I resorted and organized the kitchen bookshelf/pantry again, so small check on that one.)
* Clean off that hillbilly front porch! check
Now that the boys' windows are clean on the inside, it's obvious that tomorrow, I need to tackle the storm windows. They need to be removed, cleaned, repaired and put back up. New screens. Clean and lubricate the tracks. General happy homeowner stuff. Should be good. Should feel productive. There's just nothing like a frenzied cleaning binge to cure what ails ya.
Which brings me to the things that make me smile:
We need to buy James new winter jammies, as he insists on growing out of last year's clothes every. single. year. :-)
The boys are very excited about the school room.
Zorak is very excited about building bookshelves for the school room.
Emily is very excited about everything. She does "yay", and "wolf puppy" and many other things that take me back to the other children's infant years.
And that makes me very thankful - for the helpful, generous-hearted 8 year old; for the loving, doting 6 year old; for the delightful, happy 3 year old; for the sweet and exuberant 9 month old. And perhaps most especially, even when I don't feel like it, thankful for the dedicated, somewhat surly but always loving... erm, older one.
This weekend is The Weekend of Preparation. We're not actually preparing for anything, but it makes us more productive if we have a goal. We've gone over all the little things that need doing - some obvious, like finishing the trim painting, others not so obvious until, say, it rains... that's like a big, soggy highlighter from God, there. Or the dental work I thought I could put off a while, until tonight. Anyway, I doubt we'll end up with a floor before Christmas; there are simply too many other pressing obligations. But that's okay. I'm glad we can take care of these things, and that's forward motion. I just asked that we take this weekend to get (and, by affiliation of said request, keep) the house "floor ready". You know, like normal people live.
I'm tired of the state of disarray, to be honest. Yes, this is a construction zone, but it's also our home. I'm tired of tripping over a shop-vac in my kitchen (I do move it, but it makes it way "home" while I'm not looking). I'm tired of the baby teething on the reversible screwdriver bits (just how many of those do we have, anyway?) I'm tired of not being able to scrub what floor we do have because it takes a full day to clear the junk up off of it before we can even get to the sweeping and vacuuming. And I won't even go into the shoes... those shoes that turn up everywhere... they're like the voices in the head of an Alfred Hitchcock antagonist.
I do what I can, but it's not enough. And I refuse to be a nag about this stuff - nagging won't help anymore than setting it on fire does. (Trust me.) But, as Zorak is fond of pointing out (sometimes at the most inopportune moments), I do have "control issues". So, going against my own grain in this endeavor is making me subtly and unpredictably grouchy. Well, perhaps not so subtly.
So today we buckled down and got to work. It was productive:
* School Room - sanded, textured, caulked and vacuumed check
* Boys Room - scoured and prepped for curtains and hanging IKEA thingies check
* Nursery - ... um, didn't get around to the nursery
* Basement - I don't even ask anymore, but I heard noises that sounded too big to be mice, and there are more boxes in the foyer, so I'm guessing something was done on that front check
* Clutter -
- library books rounded up check
- paper from the Alter of Incoming Bills cleared out check
- baby clothes sorted for washing (this time it's the baby boy clothes) check
* Pantry - actually rethinking the pantry option, but we will order something this week. Oh, yes, we will. check (In the meantime, I resorted and organized the kitchen bookshelf/pantry again, so small check on that one.)
* Clean off that hillbilly front porch! check
Now that the boys' windows are clean on the inside, it's obvious that tomorrow, I need to tackle the storm windows. They need to be removed, cleaned, repaired and put back up. New screens. Clean and lubricate the tracks. General happy homeowner stuff. Should be good. Should feel productive. There's just nothing like a frenzied cleaning binge to cure what ails ya.
Which brings me to the things that make me smile:
We need to buy James new winter jammies, as he insists on growing out of last year's clothes every. single. year. :-)
The boys are very excited about the school room.
Zorak is very excited about building bookshelves for the school room.
Emily is very excited about everything. She does "yay", and "wolf puppy" and many other things that take me back to the other children's infant years.
And that makes me very thankful - for the helpful, generous-hearted 8 year old; for the loving, doting 6 year old; for the delightful, happy 3 year old; for the sweet and exuberant 9 month old. And perhaps most especially, even when I don't feel like it, thankful for the dedicated, somewhat surly but always loving... erm, older one.
Thursday, October 19
Autumn Recipe Tag
Mere, who regularly makes me smile, makes me think, keeps me alternately laughing so hard I cry, and standing in awe of her creativity (and motivation - definitely the motivation part), and is generally just thoroughly enjoyable to read, posted one of her favorite fall recipes when she heard rumors of autumnal weather reaching her neck of the woods. They are now well-fed, and shedding sweaters by ten AM. (Never listen to rumors spread by weathermen!)
Hmmm, let's tag everybody and put together the most delicious Autumn Recipe Collection!
Andie has inadvertently started the ball rolling with her Royal Thanksgiving Recipe: Pumpkin Pie Fit For a Queen.
It doesn't take much - just one recipe. One thin index card. Go on, try it. Post your favorite autumn recipe here, or post it on your blog and let us know here so we can all feast in the fall!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(I'll figure out what to add later today. Right now I've got to go look productive.)
Hmmm, let's tag everybody and put together the most delicious Autumn Recipe Collection!
Andie has inadvertently started the ball rolling with her Royal Thanksgiving Recipe: Pumpkin Pie Fit For a Queen.
It doesn't take much - just one recipe. One thin index card. Go on, try it. Post your favorite autumn recipe here, or post it on your blog and let us know here so we can all feast in the fall!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(I'll figure out what to add later today. Right now I've got to go look productive.)
Wednesday, October 18
GAH!! I'm a heel.
Little did I know how prophetic my words were when I said the bug day would probably be better than the farm field trip. Today was the deadline to pay to reserve our spot (yes, I know, nothing like the last minute for getting things done). I'd made arrangements to just swing payment by while we were in town, since this is our "goin' to town day". Everything was going along smoothly.
Well, we got out the door with everyone and everything - loaves of bread for Mr. Ward and Miss Terry, Pioneer Club handbooks, library books, grocery list... everything except the directions, and phone number of the lady I was supposed to deliver the payment to. And I didn't know her last name. If we hadn't been TO town by the time I realized my mistake, I'd have gone back. But that's, what, $50 in gas? *sigh* I feel like a real heel, and am not sure how I'm going to explain it to the boys. Well, I'll just be honest, yes, but I'm going to feel even worse before it's all over. And the boys are going to be so disappointed.
OK, it's after eleven. We got home twenty minutes ago, and the kids are now down, except for Miss Emily. It's been a very long day, and tomorrow probably won't be terribly perky. So I'm going to get her down and see about making plans to do something solo on the farm field trip end. I know I can't make it right, but maybe I'll be able to make it at least a little better.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Well, we got out the door with everyone and everything - loaves of bread for Mr. Ward and Miss Terry, Pioneer Club handbooks, library books, grocery list... everything except the directions, and phone number of the lady I was supposed to deliver the payment to. And I didn't know her last name. If we hadn't been TO town by the time I realized my mistake, I'd have gone back. But that's, what, $50 in gas? *sigh* I feel like a real heel, and am not sure how I'm going to explain it to the boys. Well, I'll just be honest, yes, but I'm going to feel even worse before it's all over. And the boys are going to be so disappointed.
OK, it's after eleven. We got home twenty minutes ago, and the kids are now down, except for Miss Emily. It's been a very long day, and tomorrow probably won't be terribly perky. So I'm going to get her down and see about making plans to do something solo on the farm field trip end. I know I can't make it right, but maybe I'll be able to make it at least a little better.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The Great Acorn Hunt
This was, hands down, a great day. I don't know why we don't do things like this more often. (Well, I do - it's been too hot until just recently, and we're just now limbering up from our summer sloth.) Anyway, this was probably better than the upcoming farm pumpkin thing we're doing next week. I'm telling ya, a cheap hammer and a little direction will keep them occupied, learning, and working together for h-o-u-r-s.
The boys were first struck by the colors we found:
PURPLE!
GREEN!
The boys were first struck by the colors we found:
PURPLE!
GREEN!
FLOWERS!
(Short attention span. But, really, they were lovely flowers.)
I started us off with a known healthy nut. As a... um, control sample. Yeah.
The boys, however, went straight for the good stuff. And I use that term loosely...
(Not a clue why 2 out of 3 are not wearing shirts... come to think of it, they had shirts on when they went out. Huh. Weird.)
And their efforts were rewarded...
That photo is blurry b/c it's difficult to hold still with the stoopid dog pulling on my leg. There were many, many more like this big guy, but this one was, by far, the biggest. It was gross.
Meanwhile, Miss Emily and I hung out on our bamboo mat at the top of the hill and enjoyed the beautiful leaves. The dog, not so much. But the leaves were nice.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, October 17
The Ew, er, Wow Factor
When you are eight or six or three, this is just a great way to spend an overcast autumn day...
It all started, as many things do when you have small children, with a discussion of maggots. What are they? Where'd they come from? How'd they get in the house? (Not my house, but that's only due to the butt-puckering fits I throw when I find smuggled "goodies" stashed in the recesses of closets.) Hmmm... a mystery!
Then someone shared a link... Acorn Larvae.
Well, you can guess what we've been doing since breakfast! The boys sought out nuts while the bread pudding baked. We ate, did math, history and Latin, and then, like three small shots, they were outta here. (I am stunned they did as much work as they did, truthfully.)
The stunning success factor rendered by dumping the nuts in water first (floaters are, or have been, inhabited) makes for a sensational day of learning. Yes, indeed.
I've got photos. I'll upload them when I'm not feeling quite so queasy... They're still at it. I can hear them, now. "This one's even BIGGER!" "Wow, there are two in this one." "Ewww, what's it doing?"
I'll haul them in for a snack here in a bit, and as always, kiss those babies (after they've washed up, right?)
Dy
It all started, as many things do when you have small children, with a discussion of maggots. What are they? Where'd they come from? How'd they get in the house? (Not my house, but that's only due to the butt-puckering fits I throw when I find smuggled "goodies" stashed in the recesses of closets.) Hmmm... a mystery!
Then someone shared a link... Acorn Larvae.
Well, you can guess what we've been doing since breakfast! The boys sought out nuts while the bread pudding baked. We ate, did math, history and Latin, and then, like three small shots, they were outta here. (I am stunned they did as much work as they did, truthfully.)
The stunning success factor rendered by dumping the nuts in water first (floaters are, or have been, inhabited) makes for a sensational day of learning. Yes, indeed.
I've got photos. I'll upload them when I'm not feeling quite so queasy... They're still at it. I can hear them, now. "This one's even BIGGER!" "Wow, there are two in this one." "Ewww, what's it doing?"
I'll haul them in for a snack here in a bit, and as always, kiss those babies (after they've washed up, right?)
Dy
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