HA!

I couldn't let it rest.

I got into it.

Startin' to feel like a regular hacker. Which seems to be the only way to get into these things.

Oh, just how dangerous I could be if I knew what I was doing with this computer!!!

But now, I'm just too tired to do anything.

And so, to bed.

Dy

N'er Mind

I've been trying to extract the photos from the disk for the past three hours. So far, all I've seen are 209 .gif graphics from FujiFilm, a slower working speed on this computer than I had on my Commodore 64, and now, several messages informing me that I'm missing MSVCR80.dll. (I can even type that in without looking at the letters, because I've searched all over kingdom come for it.)

According to my computer, I have three copies of it, and then three other files with the name in there somewhere.

Somehow, that's not reassurring.

And so, I'm going to bed. Perhaps tomorrow the Computer Fairy will grant me three wishes. Or will tell me to simply click my heels together three times, and say...

Yeah. I know.

Ah, well. At least it was a good day in other respects. But it's almost two in the morning now, and I was going to go to bed by eleven. I'll fill ya in tomorrow.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

North American Rock Babies

Many people are familiar with the Prairie Dogs found in the high desert and plains regions of the Southwest. A lesser known critter is the North American Rock Baby.

These little cuties are often mistaken for badgers, mountain goats, or, quite frequently, prairie dogs.

They are relatively slow, but have excellent balancing skills.


Larger, more aggressive, and less likely to carry rabies or eat the roots from foliage than the prairie dog (though more likely to consume rocks, twigs, and gum stuck to the undersides of tables), the Rock Baby is a true delight to observe and photograph.



If you venture out early in the mornings, you may be fortunate enough to find a Rock Baby poking its head out of its den.



(I found the missing photographs!)

Kiss those Rock Babies!
~Dy

Pictures Tomorrow!

No, I didn't get the upload issue fixed. I haven't heard back from Fuji *at all*. And unless I can bring in an exorcist, ALL of the pictures from the one card are gone forever. *sniff* But Kate suggested it might be the card reader. And I think that was it. Took the remaining card to a different store (one that doesn't hold people hostage at Kodak Cell Block 011010100), and the photos uploaded just fine. Unfortunately, without thinking, I hit "print 4x6", and so... now I get to cough up $48 for almost 300 photos... that I didn't want printed. I just wanted the $3 disk. But that's what I get for doing these things with four children in tow. The Monday after graduation. The Monday after Seniors return from their "Senior Trip". Monday, period. (WHAT was I thinking?)

So, anybody want a hard copy print of the Smidge Cam shots? I'm pretty sure there are some stunning nostril shots, and I vaguely remember a few knee-view ones, as well. C'mon, someone has to have a 3yo who would take one look at it and say, "MAN, that kid takes a great picture!"

Well, that's okay. I've been remiss in sending actual pictures to Loved Ones, anyway. So, this is sort of like God, kicking my behind into gear, right? After all, if He can use anything to bring about good, He can certainly take my AirHead Moments and make someone else smile. And then, charge me for it.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Pummelled

Well, no. There were no fists involved. However, you can take your pick from any of the following:

beating
thrashing
pounding

Our team just didn't show up tonight. I mean, the little bodies were out there, but they weren't *there* there. It was like watching the inmates from the asylum enjoy an evening at the park. Weird.

I got a cute picture of one of the kids smearing the white chalk onto his face, like warpaint. Once he saw me with the camera, though, he launched into a Charlie Chaplain dance that I didn't have the heart to encourage. (Although I may talk to his mother about encouraging him in the arts. He's pretty good.)

John got his first taste of utter, total, bitter disappointment. That's a nasty pill to swallow, but for being six, he handled it well. He'll probably read this one day and think I'm not quite right in the head, but it really was harder on us to see it happen, to know it was coming, and not be able to do anything about it - than it was for him to be standing there, making circles in the dirt and have it hit him out of nowhere that "it's not happening, kids". I think this is the first time this season, aside from that one pre-season-tournamenty-thing that our little guys took a thorough beating. Every other game has been at least close. Or at least not... this bad.

I'd like to wax philosophical. Probably to make myself feel better. But every time I try, Zorak shoots me a look. Then he starts thinking about a beer commercial he saw today, and he laughs. He laughs the kind of laugh I'd probably trade a kidney to get out of him. And, well, it's hard to be philosophical and deep when I can't help but think, "ok, beer surgeon"...

So that's it. That's all I've got tonight. Tomorrow, we'll bake bread. We'll power wash more dirty stuff. (Ack, another random thought. They're pinging around in my head with abandon.) Love on my kiddos.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Garh!!!

"Hey, honey, does John have practice tonight?"

"No, why?"

"Well, I wasn't going to take him to the batting cages if he also had practice."

"Oh. No, I don't think he has anything now until Thursday. They might play their first tournament game on Friday."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course I'm sure... I think."

So, Zorak took John to the batting cages for a bit of one-on-one time, some practice, and a little fun.

Aaaaaand, I just got off the phone w/ the coach's wife. "We missed y'all at practice tonight. Is everything okay?"

*wham* *wham* *wham* (beating my head on the desk) I. Am. Not. Fit. For. This. Job! "Yes, everything's fine. It's just that John's mother is a hard-core blonde sometimes."

Thankfully, all they did tonight was batting practice. *whew* Oh, and the first tournament game is tomorrow, not Friday.

Isn't that uber-organized woman with the dauntingly flawless scheduling skills who was supposed to have this job here yet? No? OK, then, I'll keep winging it, but I tell ya, they're starting to get Suspicious.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

I have the best readers in the world.

That's it. Some of you other bloggers may think you have better readers, but no. You don't. I do. They're mine, all mine!!!! Not only are the funny and insightful, but they're observant. And thoughtful.

The kids and I stopped at the post office to pick up our mail today and ask them to resume delivery. (Yeah, I know, we've been back, what a week? Well, it's not like we trek all the way to the end of the driveway every day, anyway. At least at the Post Office, it all stayed dry.) And what was in the pile of mail?

Well, yes, we've won some kind of a grand prize that we can claim when we test drive a new Super Cargo Van. But that has nothing to do with my really awesome readers.

There were three, count 'em, 1, 2, 3 - Barry Manilow Christmas CD's!

Zorak is going to be hating life for a while until I get it out of my system. And the boys are wondering why I laughed so hard at the mail.

But this is really cool.

And to honor the joy, we're going to have a Christmas in June celebration!

I really have the absolute best readers in the world.

Kiss those babies, and a cyber-hug of thanks, guys!! (Two of them came w/o a name attached, just direct mailed from a company, so I'm not sure exactly who to thank. Tara, yours came straight through. Thanks!)

Dy

It doesn't take much.

The contrast between the amount of work it takes to make a home look nice, and the relatively little effort it takes to crap it up again, is shocking.

Zorak borrowed Me-Wa's pressure washer, to cleanse the debris off That 70's Brick, and de-slime the Balcony O'Death. Come to find out, the balcony is much closer to death than we anticipated. I nearly fell through. Zorak nearly fell through. The children pressed their wee faces between the wrought iron bars on the storm door and wished they could try to fall through, also. I guess it looked like fun. So, okay, it isn't any more safe now, but it looks better, smells better, and is less terrifying on a microbial level. It's the small things, sometimes.

We washed the front of the house, hoping to find the magical color that'll tie it all together, hidden somewhere in the brick's many sparkly bits facets. I don't think we found it, although we did mellow the patchwork-coat feel of the brick colors somewhat. What we did find, however, was the magical color hidden beneath the painted trim. It's yellow. That was a surprise.

Oh, and the shutters? We cleaned those. The paint flaked off, revealing another bit of history for the Forever Home. Turns out the shudders (oops, Freudian slip - of course, I meant "shutters") were salvaged from the fire back in 1972. Well, not "salvaged", in the sense that they were saved. But they were kept and reused when the house was re-built. Did you know you could paint over charcoal? And did you know that when you blast the paint off the charcoal, the whole thing disintegrates into a black, oozing mess all over your hedges?

If you'd have pulled up to our place this afternoon, you'd have seen what it probably looks like when sub-contractors riot. But there we stood, ankle deep in green mud, both of us covered in mildew and wood rot, charcoal and paint chips, drinking our coffee and surveying the damage...

"I like the yellow."

"Yeah. That is nice."

I guess it's all about perspective. But the yellow was definitely a surprise.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hooked!

Ha-HA! I love it when my plans come together.

We've been reading Eagle of the Ninth. Not a favorite for many, I know. And I know why. But the story itself (convoluted, dreadfully-Dickensian-attention-to-detail-we-don't-care-about, pain-in-the-butt-to-read-aloud prose aside), is really great. On many levels. I love the *story*. And since I love it, and I am willing to read it aloud, I decided that by-golly, my children will just have to live through it, too.

And they have.

But tonight, when Marcus and Esca spoke with Guern the Hunter for the second time, those little eyes were WIDE OPEN, mouths shut, attention all focused on the story. (And they think I was snuffling over the storyline!)

They asked for a second chapter. (And I'm pretty sure it isn't just to get it over with. I don't think that's dawned on them yet.)

But even if you ignore the adrenaline rush of seeing your children captured by a character, the discussions you can have with them after reading together are equally addicting. "Why did he __________?"

What was the custom? How was it different from the other countries?

What do you think?

What would you do?

Would you have taken on something like this?

No, we aren't going to burn peat in the wood stove this winter.

It's good, good stuff. It's worth slogging through the challenging things, worth pre-reading to get a feel for the flow of the writing, worth having to break it down to just a chapter a day. (Well, that may just be hard on me - I much prefer to let everyone fend for themselves and retread underwear while I finish a book in one sitting than to have to break it into chunks).

It's all worth it to see them make connections, develop empathy, experience the world through a different lense, compare it with what they know to be right or good or true... and then to be there when they share their ideas, develop their thoughts, and come to conclusions.

Man, I love this life!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Baseball Round-Up

Today was the last game of the season, which would lead one (ok, me) to believe that's the end. You know. Of the... season. Ah, to be the uninitiated first-year mom. No, no, silly woman. Now it's time for tournaments.

Tournaments? Didn't we play tournaments back in March?

No, no, those were pre-season tournaments.

As opposed to post-season tournaments?

No, as opposed to tournaments.

Oh. I think I need a sno-cone.

John's team lost today. I don't know the score, but it was by one point. And you know, it was the absolute best game all season. The very best. Both teams played their wee little hearts out. Both sets of coaches were encouraging and nurturing and positive toward their players. The refs were good. The stands were packed. Both teams could field the ball fairly well (for this age bracket), and the spectators on both sides were generous with their applause and shouts of "good play," "way to hustle," and "good swing," no matter which team the children were on. If only there'd been a bit of a breeze, and the Snack Shack hadn't broken the sno-cone machine, it would have been a perfect day.

We have one little roly-poly guy on the team who is just so sweet and has worked so hard this season. All of the kids have improved in some aspect, all of them. But he has really gone above and beyond in several areas. Today he came up to bat in the kind of set-up they put in full Cheez-Whiz sentimental movies: two on base, two outs, bottom of the inning, he had two strikes, and we were down by one. (No pressure!) He smacked that ball like nobody's business and made it to second base, bringing in two runs in the process. The crowd, on both sides of the stands, went absolutely wild. I'm not the only one that got teary-eyed. Granted, the other lady is pregnant and she cried at the last practice, too, but still. It wasn't just me. You could see the smile on his face from clear across the field. We thought for sure he'd get the game ball for that.

But, no. The game ball went to a kid who ran from first to second, freaked out at the dogpile on the baseline in front of second, and bolted back to first. When the kid from the other team started getting close enough to tag him out, he actually tried shoving the girl on first base off the base so he could be safe and she'd... go back to batting? I don't know, but he was pretty certain she didn't need to be there if it would save him. None of us is sure what he did later in the game to earn the gameball. Maybe it was just his willingness to get back out there after being run down and tagged out like that. *shrug*

John came up to bat in the last inning with two outs, and we were down by one again. He hit it and the other team fielded the ball really well. He was out, and my heart sank for him. But he was okay with it. No fits, no ugly conduct. He just gave us his little cockeyed grin that said, "Well, I tried," and we (not just Zorak and James and I, but everybody in the stands) gave him encouragement. I noticed his coach gave him an encouraging pat as he ran back to the dugout, as well. The kid was well over it, and looking forward to a sno-cone by then, but it did a lot for this Mama's heart to see someone else encourage these kids the way I would. It's nice to gather around you that team that's coming from the same place you are, and looking to help encourage your children in the same direction you are encouraging them. That's enough to have made the season worth it, in my opinion.

All the kids did well, and when our guys gave the other team random kudos ("Hey, great game, guys!" and "Congrats. You all played a fantastic game!"), that other team just bubbled with pride. It was the pride of a job well done, too, not a haughty, nasty pride. It was a good thing. Their coaches, their parents, have instilled the kind of sportsmanship in them that more communities need. Good kids, all around. Good game, all around. And I'd say good season, all around... but I'm starting to think it never ends. :-S

We'll have two in football this fall, and it looks like we may have three in baseball next spring. It's catching!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Our Night

"You know what might be kind of fun this year? Let's not wait until the 19th to plan John's birthday party." (It's the 20th.)

"Yeah. We could try that."

***********************************

"Hey, can we paint a skull and crossbones on the dog for the party?"

"Sure. We'll cut off a leg, too. And give him a peg leg. No, a hook!"

"We could poke his eye out, too, while we're at it."

***********************************

"...not a grammatition. Or is it a grammarian?"

"I dunno. Grammatard?"

***********************************

"Do you think the smell is God's way of punishing you for farting in the first place?"

***********************************

"Wanna help me blog tonight?"

"Sure. I've thought up some new ethnic jokes you could try out."

*blink* *blink* "What?"

"No. Not really."

***********************************

"Man, Balto really smells funny."

*sniff* "OH, GOD, he got skunked! Get him out of here!"

"Huh. I knew something wasn't right."

***********************************

The boys and I made a "Top 10 Things We Love About Dad" list for his birthday. I mentioned his sense of humor. John and Smidge gave that an enthusiastic thumbs up. James replied, "Yeah, he's usually pretty funny."

2.5 out of 3 isn't bad.

***********************************

"Wow. That sounds like the Marshall Tucker Band."

"This is the Marshall Tucker Band doing Cheap Trick?"

"No. It's Dwight Yoakam doing the Marshall Tucker Band doing Cheap Trick."

"What'd we pay for this?"

************************************

And this was a quiet night.

Kiss those babies! (And no, the dog wasn't harmed in the making of the party plans. But he IS sleeping outside tonight.)

Dy

Oh, I'm not a technical person.

I thought I might fiddle with the camera card while I had the house to myself. Well, there's been a whole lotta fiddlin' but no music. I've just spent the last hour on Fuji's website trying to find out if there are others or if I'm the only moron to do this to not one, but now two cards.

The old card that was dying, but I reformatted and renamed Lazarus... is now "not initialized". I've no idea how to "initialize it", but I'm terrified to try to fix it, because that horrid Kodak Queasy-Share software lost the batch of pictures it sniped from that card when we got back. The rock pictures? Gone. The baby eating yellow flower shot? Gone. (You didn't see that one, but it was cute. I was going to blog it this afternoon, which is how I discovered it's GONE.) My hope is that they're still on that card somewhere, because they are NOWHERE TO BE FOUND on the computer.

And the big card that will not be formatted, no matter how nicely I ask? No clue what's up with that. So, I've written to FujiFilm. I'm hoping they will help me. Here's my email:

I own a Fine Pix S 5100 digital camera. Have had it for years. Love it. I received recently a new FujiFilm XD-Picture Card (DCP-1GB), which I immediately inserted into my camera and began taking pictures on it. Camera identified card. Card, camera. No errors. Life was good. Until I tried to upload the photos to my PC (Dell something or other, Windows XP Home - please don't tell me that's the problem). My computer (never one to make small talk) said, "Card not formatted." Huh. I never formatted previous FujiFilm cards. Never had this problem. Had to take the card to a photo shop to save to a disk without formatting it (which worked, but not quite what we're shooting for, here). Took the card back home to the computer. "OK, format it," I said. "Cannot format," said the computer. I can take pictures on the card, and they'll show up on the TV, on the camera, and on a disk, but I cannot get them off without taking them to Wal-Mart, whereupon I get stuck w/ Kodak Easy Share Software. I don't want Kodak, I like my Fine Pix Viewer. I just want my pictures. But I can't figure out how to get them off this card. I'd be willing to suck it up and take the Kodak for this one batch, but how can I fix the card so that I can use it in the future? Can I format it on my camera? (If so, how?) Am I doomed to use Kodak anyway? Any way you could help me? I make a mean chocolate cake, and I'm nice to tech support people. Please help.
Dy

They'll either take pity on me and throw me a technical bone, or they'll laugh morbidly and toss it into the circular file. I can hope, though, can't I?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Random Dental News

Is it a bad sign that I actually look forward to dentist visits now because it means I'll have a guaranteed half hour between prying/propping sessions to get a little extra reading done?

The visit went well. You know, for a trip to the dentist. They did have a heck of a time fitting the crown, but not because of my opossum gums*. It was because they've got a new girl. She must be new. Please let her be new. (I don't know her title, sorry. Honestly, I can't tell you what half the people in a dentist's office do - I think they're extras, except that one at the end of the hall who never moves. She may be a prop.) She kept pulling on the wrong tooth. I tried pointing it out (the big wobbly one in the back, not the solid firm one near the front), but that didn't do any good, and when I became afraid she'd actually get the wrong tooth out, I just pulled the temp off for her. Anyway, she scraped the adhesive cement off the tooth, but left a big chunk of on, so the crown didn't fit. It was like someone had slipped Teddy Roosevelt's tooth into my mouth. It took them a long time (and filing most of the crown) before they called in Dr. New Dentist. He spotted the problem immediately, inspected the crown, gave the New Girl the hairy eyeball, and plopped it in place. Then they turned New Girl loose on me with the scraper to get the cement off my gums. Next time I think I'll just opt for skin irritation and abrasion at home to get it off.

Filled a tooth. This is the first time since we've been here that all the scheduled events actually took place. The old dentist was notorious for scheduling A and B, but then only getting around to B. By the time a few small problems got addressed, multiple schedulings later, they were no longer small problems. It felt good to walk out of there with everything done that ought to have been done. Yay. I like this place, New Girl and all.

Next visit: the root scaling. Yeah, the fun never stops.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy


*opossum gums - they play dead

Watermelon!

Before we left, we broke out a watermelon and enjoyed the absolutely exquisite phenomenon known as Spring Evening in the South. She enjoyed it tremendously, and just acted as if she'd never had this delightful ambrosia before. Then it hit us... she'd never had this delightful ambrosia before. Her first watermelon!


She's also a ham. If she even sees the camera come up to your face, she'll stop what she's doing to shout, "cheese!"

Of course, it doesn't have to be your first watermelon in order to really be able to dive in...

One of the things I love about watching the children is just how whole-heartedly they immerse themselves in what they're enjoying. It's a good reminder for me, anyway. Nothing tastes as sweet, is as much fun, or means as much as what you're sinking your teeth into right this very minute. We just need to make sure we fill those minutes with the good stuff.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hey

"Mommy, me love Aunt Salwey. Me want hers to be at ours house. Yous call her?"

Yeah, that's not a Pittsburgh accent. We're still working on the speech thing. And pronoun mutilation aside, why throw a "w" in where it's more difficult to pronounce? I can't even say "Sally" with a "w". But Smidge seems to think it's just gotta be in there. And he loves his Aunt Salwey. So who am I to argue with a stray consonant? It's good to be loved.

We got back to the grind today. I'd have thought it was simply "the routine", but according to James, when Zorak asked if they did school today, it was much, much worse. "Oh, yeah! We did school. We did a whole lot of school." Huh. I didn't think it was *that* bad, but I, evidently, am not an expert.

We also made KathyJo's "muffins". (You know, in an attempt to lessen the severity of the torture of today's lessons.) I can't even say with a straight face that they're muffins. Iced muffins? No. I don't care what she tells you, those 'er c-u-p-c-a-k-e-s, if they're anything this side of haggis. Trust me. Make them. Wallow in them. Roll around in them and get them in your hair. They're to. die. for. I'm going to try to make a "pan muffin" (*snort* ok, a cake) out of them later this week. Ironically, with the bean flours (because no, I haven't been out to buy more grains yet lately, so they aren't quinoa, but who's keeping track?) they've still got more protein and fiber than colon-binding-whole-wheat, full-fiber-assault-bran muffins. So really, what's a few sprinkles and icing among family, right?

And just to show you how incredibly dull (well, dull aside from the muffin ecstasty of mid-morning - after that, it pretty much went downhill) our day was, the big super-exciting highlight of the whole. entire. day. is that Zorak brought home a sample of a store-bought, gluten-free, profesionally decorated cake tonight. We found the place a while ago, and thought that if the cakes were good, we'd get one of those for the team party. He stopped in today and she gave him a sample to bring home. Huge excitement, there, yes, over a slice of cake smaller than a stumpy cupcake. But we all tried a bite and John got to lick the plate. Survey says: Mom's is better. Ok, ok, I shouldn't be quite so tickled with that. I really shouldn't. I know. But still... *hee hee* They like my stuff! The thousands of dollars we've put into gummy, lumpy failed experiments paid off tonight, when they led the clan to say that my cakes were better than a pro's. *contented sigh* I tried a bite, and it was pretty good. The icing was scrumptious, and everything she makes is made from scratch. She (she, being "the cake lady") just hasn't quite mastered "cake" texture yet, so it was like a two-layer brownie with mocha icing. Seriously, who's going to complain about that? Yeah. It was good. (But they like my cakes better.)

Oh, oh, oh. I almost forgot. I was supposed to call my new dentist today because 1) I couldn't remember when my appt. is for setting the new crown, and 2) I popped the temporary crown off on the flight TO New Mexico and figured I ought to at least let them know about that. Well, they beat me to it when the gal at the front desk called this morning to remind me about my appointment tomorrow afternoon (egads, better find someone to watch the kids, quick!) to set the crown. So I filled her in, let her know that I'd popped the temp., and asked if that was going to be a problem. She's so sweet, but the conversation gave me many random chuckles throughout the day.

Nice Office Girl: Do you still have it?

Me: Do you need it?

Nice Office Girl: Is it in now?

Me: Huh? No. It's somewhere... in the diaper bag.

Nice Office Girl: Did you try to put it back on?

Me: *choking on my coffee* What?

Nice Office Girl: Did you try to put it back on with anything?

Me: Um... no?

Nice Office Girl: You know, like with toothpaste or something to hold it on?

Me: (*internally* Uh, your professional-grade two-ton epoxy didn't work, what would make me think a little Tom's would do the trick?) *aloud, I said* Um... what?

Nice Office Girl: *long, awkward pause* So... you didn't put it back on?

Me: *chuckle* No. I didn't put it back on.

Nice Office Girl: Well, you could try that.

Me: *long, awkward pause* Aren't I coming in tomorrow for the permanent crown?

Nice Office Girl: Yes, that's why I called.

*pause for the connection to be made*

*connection is never made*

Me: Ok, well, we'll, uh, thanks for the reminder call. I'll see ya tomorrow, then. Have a good one.

Nice Office Girl: You, too, Mrs. Dy. See you tomorrow.

Did I miss something, there? I mean, I don't know what the ramifications are of not having a temporary crown ON the tooth. But it's smooth, sealed, and doesn't hurt. And really, toothpaste? For a ten-day trip? Biting down on one of those things the first time it pops off is bad enough. Can you imagine setting yourself up for it every. time. you ate? And I'm still not entirely clear why she thought I ought to put it on today, but she didn't think it was a good idea to fill me in, so hopefully it's not that important. I'm going to feel pretty goofy if I get in tomorrow and they tell me the bone structure in my entire lower jaw will have to be rebuilt because I didn't have the temporary crown all this time. Oops.

Anyway, dishwasher's running, house is quiet. I'm going to finish this pot off, blogrun a bit, and head to bed. Hopefully we'll find our groove again soon and I can spend more time on the creative and technological side of blogging for a while. (As opposed to the Spartan, only-blogging-to-be-blogging side of it, right?)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A lot like this

Right now, the amount of work that lies before us after our absence feels a lot like this. But, she made it to the top, and so will we.

And the view looking back at all the work you've done...

Wow.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Home Sweet Home!

Hi guys! It's one o'clock, and we are home. The bug bombs have been picked up, sheets switched out, coffee made (duh), and the kids are all sound asleep in their own beds. EmBaby was the only one still awake when we pulled in. It was fun to see her reaction. We stood on the porch (oh, the porch is lovely, by the way!) as she gazed into the house, then she pointed, "In!" She ran about, touching everything, talking to herself (reacquainting herself with the lay of the land? I don't know what she was talking about) while we got things up and running.

You know, the house looks nicer than I remembered. That's sort of a good feeling to walk in and say, "Hey, this is nice! We'd buy this place if it was on the market." ;-)

I don't think we left anything. That'd be a first. (Ack, no. Zorak just reminded me that we left a box of wipes at a cousin's house. Oh, and a shoe. But we actually *lost* the shoe, didn't forget it. So that doesn't count.)

Smidge learned first-hand how bad a goat head hurts in your foot (the burr, Jess, he didn't actually step on the goats in Corona). Poor little guy. (Picture from the Department of Horticulture and Crop Science The Ohio State University - they seem to be the only ones who willingly photographed anything other than the deceptively lovely yellow flowers on those things.)

Zorak scored on the goodies haul. He got a new shotgun (well, inherited-new, not new-new), and two big bags of calf fries. When the TSA folks asked what was in the cooler, he said, "beef". I'm really kinda glad I didn't hear that one, or I'd have started giggling enough to make us all look suspicious. I mean, yeah, it's beef... technically. I'm going to have to brace myself for this one. It's been six years since the "roasted heart" incident, and I've only just recovered. So, if anyone is up for a big calf fry supper, come on down! Third hillbilly shack on the right as you head out of town.

OK, ok, time for bed. Will see if Kodak will release my images to me tomorrow. It's good to be home!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hi.

Well, I had grand plans to blog the trip. But that would take internet access, something which I haven't had since we left. Oops.

We are in The Land of Enchantment, busily procuring all manner of chile-induced intestinal distress, performing pigmentation experiments on all the children (it doesn't look like EmBaby has any pigmentation at all and Smidge is just about coffee-bean brown), and riding the adventure of trying to see every. cousin. we. have. in just a few short days. It's wonderful!! And we shall soon see if that "unlimited mileage" feature on the rental car is true.

A brief synopsis is probably in order.

Thursday: flew to New Mexico. Did not get flagged for any "special" searches, yay. Didn't get flack from the TSA about flying with a firearm. Yay. Eldest child did not make C-4/string cheese jokes going through security. (Triple yay.) Missed connecting flight (boo - hiss), but if you've got to be stuck for three hours in an airport with four children and a cranky husband, DFW is the one to do it in (yay!)

Friday: arrived in New Mexico WAY too late at night/early morning. Within minutes of arriving, Emily fell off bed (thus producing the first bruise of the trip. She has since obtained one bruise per stop the entire trip. We may get stopped by security on the way home if she keeps this up). Ate green chile products. Slept late. Loaded up, and headed to the City of Rocks.

Fri-Sun: camped out. (I use the term loosely - it was more like having a portable four-star suite at our disposal than actual camping.) Did not see much of the children as they and their cousins hit the ground running and returned to camp only for food, water, and maps. No internet. No cell phone service. Great company, grilled foods and good wine. Fantastic time had by all.

Sunday PM: returned to civilization, spent the entire time sitting and visiting. Kids kept busy. Good stuff. Got to spend time with Gram, and meet Aunt B's Wonderful Neighbors.

Monday: Trekked to Lincoln County to see Great-Granny (Zorak's Granny). More cousins. More running amok for the children. Emily became possessed by what we thought initially was a demon, but turned out to be only a one-two attack of teething and allergies. Cancelled exorcist.

Tuesday: Drove way-way-way-the-he...ck to the farthest, most remote corner of New Mexico to see Willy & Shell's house (that sounds like the name of a band from the 70's - one of the pitfalls of coming up w/ nicknames in the middle of the night). Lovely house. Wonderful time. Again with the cousins and the running. Dinosaur tracks. Basset hounds. Brisket.

Wednesday: Stayed at Willy & Shell's until bedtime. (This was my brilliant idea.) Drove way-way-way... yeah, well, we're back down south-ish now, at Granny's. (You may remember her from the Favorite Mom poll of '07.) The children are wallowing in the joy that is SuperGranny. We're having a wonderful time, but I really miss my front porch. And my bed. And the dog. Not throwing away the number for that exorcist, either.

We'll head out for Cruces tomorrow afternoon. The boys want to go w/ Granny on her bus route in the morning. (That's one way to address the "but they'll never be able to ride the school bus" argument. There are definite perks to having a Granny who owns her own bus.) And horseback riding. I think. We fly home on Saturday. The housesitters said the house is fine and doesn't really miss us at all. Nor does the dog, which is probably just what you want when you're on the road. It's nice to know things are well cared-for.

So, that's it, in a nutshell. We'll soon be home, rehydrating and wishing we'd finished that second bathroom by now. See ya soon!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hi all...

Just slipping in nonchalantly to, um, procrastinate a bit. I think I'm done messing up Emily's kitchen, now. And the laundry is done (at least at my house, I don't know about hers). The bathroom's clean. The guest room's clean. BabyGirl's room is clean. Life is lookin' better all the time!

The boys are outside. They helped until lunch, and they were so diligent and didn't whine (even when I wanted to) that I just had to turn them loose to run and play for the rest of the day. It sounds like they're having fun out there, too, but I'm... I'm... I think I'm ready to get up and do a little more.

Am I the only one who likes to come home to a clean house? To the point of making everybody else nuts in the last few days before a trip? It's worth the insanity to drag a travel-weary body into a clean and inviting home at the end of a long day. Preferably, a home that says, "Hey! I've missed you guys! Come on in. The beds are ready. The dishes are clean, and if you'll give the coffee pot a minute, he'll have a little somethin' for you."

Yeah, I'm glad we bought a house that can talk.

But now it's whispering that it's bigger than I think and I'd best get off my duff and finish or I... *gulp* won't finish. (Well, that sounded far more sinister than it did in my head. The voice isn't threatening me, just warning me that I may have to leave something unmopped or unwashed.)

Ah, yeah, I'll be going now.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

I love that man.

Tonight, amidst all the "fun" of roasting marshmallows and moths outside, I hopped back into the house for more coffee. It wasn't until I was all the way in the kitchen again that I heard a creepy scritching sound following me. It sped up when I did, stopped when I did.

I could still hear the children laughing in the yard, which meant either Zorak was behind me, or they hadn't seen the mass murderer enter the house. But *something* was wrong. I could even feel it in my back and right leg.

Step.
Scritch.
Step-step.
Scritch-scritch.

I think my body is starting to slip into paralysis! I can hardly lift my leg now!

*schloop-scritch*

Wait. Just. One. Second.

*peek*

Sure enough, I somehow managed to step on a melted marshmallow. And then on about two inches of leaf debris on my way to the porch. That would account for the scritching, the discomfort in my right leg (which was hefted up a good two inches), and the trouble lifting said leg. But what could possibly account for the fact that I didn't think to look under my foot to begin with?

*sigh* I don't know.

I scraped most of it off, then the small ones came at me with their flaming trophies and I had to hot-foot it back outside before they set fire to the floor or the curtains. And then there was bedtime, and laundry. And that death nap thing with the Elmo chair. The shoe lay, forgotten and sticky, in the kitchen.

Just now, Zorak asked if I wanted to go see the progress on the railings. Yeah, but I've got to mess with my shoe first. I stepped on something...

"I know," he said, smiling and pouring coffee. "I already cleaned it."

Oh. *sniff* I love you! I have to go blog this. *sniff*

But now I have to go because he took the coffee and left for the porch without me. He was muttering something about "addictions" and "obsessive behavior". Huh. Wonder what that meant? We'll blog about it later, right?

Dy