I hope.
Had the surgery this morning to knock out the rest of the Death Star. This time through was a whole different ball of wax, on a few levels. Instead of being out for four hours, I was only out for one. Less bleeding, less pain, less nausea. Good-bye Joe? Oh, I hope!
The staff at Huntsville Hospital was fantastic, so that was the same. (I did get the lady again who refuses to use the word "urinate". She's very nice, and I'm sure she's quite capable. However, I'm also rather glad that they put her at the end of your stay, as the repeated use of the word, "pee-pee" just doesn't instill confidence.) Really, my only gripe about Huntsville Hospital is that it's not horribly clean. But the nurses are amazing. My doc is phenomenal. The receptionists and techs, everybody, really, is just great. Even pee-pee lady. And the doc prefers to use that one, because their Astroid-Shooter (as James calls it) is better than the one at Crestwood. All in all, good stuff.
Got home and crashed. The boys made me lemonade, since they know that's recommended for kidney stones. I'm so spoiled.
The Bigs had Scouts tonight, so Zorak took all five children, kicked the Bigs off at their meeting, and took the Littles to the park. So sweet. (And it is SO quiet.) It's wonderful to have the house so peaceful while I'm waiting for the meds to kick in! (Did I mention how spoiled I am? It's wonderful.)
Just... trying to fight the urge to clean. I haven't been alone in the house in ages, and it's so, so tempting. Must fight it. I guess I'll go read blogs for a bit. If I leave a loopy comment on yours, please forgive me. I'll try to get off the computer before it gets too bad.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
If you don't mind the construction dust, come on in. The coffee's hot, the food's good, and the door is open...
Tuesday, June 30
Sunday, June 28
Accomplishments, Big and Small
Big:
The pickets are up on the balcony. Changed the *whole* look and feel of it. Will try to get pictures. Someone's going to have to remind me to post before and after pics, though, because my brain isn't working properly. (I'm also working on obtaining grant money to prove my hypothesis that humidity clogs the synapses.)
Dad's old desk - circa 1940's, awesome, Ed Harris as a gov't agent, heavy, wood desk - has now been cleaned, refinished, runners sanded and waxed, and reassembled. Due to The Way I Do Things, it is already covered in stuff.
Basement progress is picking up speed. Zorak headed to the recycling bins with an entire pickup bed (long bed, at that) full of flattened cardboard boxes. The erstwhile contents are now shredded compost material, loaded up for a trip to the donation store, or filed away neatly.
AND, I vacuumed the basement.
Yeah, no kidding.
FOUND the disk for the camera upload software. Thankfully, as that model has been discontinued and Fuji no longer has any disks in stock. Big old vampire-killing silver bullet dodged, my friends. *whew*
Uploaded the 422 pictures we've taken since switching computers.
Most of them are blurry nostril shots, courtesy of the SmidgeCam.
Little:
Um, still can't figure out how to use Photoshop Elements. Not for a lack of trying. Must push harder on that grant money.
And, on a rather obscure note, we (the kids and I) cleaned out "the pen boxes". Picture, if you will, 70 years of writing implements shoved into desk drawers, all collected and bound in cardboard during various moves, just waiting for us to one day be so desperate not to have to go outside that we scrounged up scrap paper and plunked ourselves down on the floor to doodle our way through the pile. A surprising number of pens still worked. The totally, irrationally exciting part, though, is that we found two fountain pens!! You may not know this, but I have a teeny tiny obsession with stationery products. So, when I discovered they still have ink in them, and they work, and learned the histories behind them, and fondled them, and figured out that you can buy ink pots, and, and, and...
well, you just can't end a day of cleaning on a better note than that.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The pickets are up on the balcony. Changed the *whole* look and feel of it. Will try to get pictures. Someone's going to have to remind me to post before and after pics, though, because my brain isn't working properly. (I'm also working on obtaining grant money to prove my hypothesis that humidity clogs the synapses.)
Dad's old desk - circa 1940's, awesome, Ed Harris as a gov't agent, heavy, wood desk - has now been cleaned, refinished, runners sanded and waxed, and reassembled. Due to The Way I Do Things, it is already covered in stuff.
Basement progress is picking up speed. Zorak headed to the recycling bins with an entire pickup bed (long bed, at that) full of flattened cardboard boxes. The erstwhile contents are now shredded compost material, loaded up for a trip to the donation store, or filed away neatly.
AND, I vacuumed the basement.
Yeah, no kidding.
FOUND the disk for the camera upload software. Thankfully, as that model has been discontinued and Fuji no longer has any disks in stock. Big old vampire-killing silver bullet dodged, my friends. *whew*
Uploaded the 422 pictures we've taken since switching computers.
Most of them are blurry nostril shots, courtesy of the SmidgeCam.
Little:
Um, still can't figure out how to use Photoshop Elements. Not for a lack of trying. Must push harder on that grant money.
And, on a rather obscure note, we (the kids and I) cleaned out "the pen boxes". Picture, if you will, 70 years of writing implements shoved into desk drawers, all collected and bound in cardboard during various moves, just waiting for us to one day be so desperate not to have to go outside that we scrounged up scrap paper and plunked ourselves down on the floor to doodle our way through the pile. A surprising number of pens still worked. The totally, irrationally exciting part, though, is that we found two fountain pens!! You may not know this, but I have a teeny tiny obsession with stationery products. So, when I discovered they still have ink in them, and they work, and learned the histories behind them, and fondled them, and figured out that you can buy ink pots, and, and, and...
well, you just can't end a day of cleaning on a better note than that.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, June 25
It's not all nosebleeds and starting fluid
But it's felt that way.
We pretty much slept through Sunday, although we kinda-sorta made it to church. None of us was rested up. The Adults were a little off our game (namely defense), and the Littles were on FIRE. We sat in the back, which was a bad call, as EmBaby refuses to believe Pastor is talking to *her* if she cannot see him. She talked, hummed, sang the whole time. I suggested to John that perhaps she has Pentecostal blood. (The story being fresh in his head of the time I took my strict Southern Baptist mother to a FourSquare Pentecostal service, and the prophecy of the morning seemed directed pointedly at her, he got it.)
Zorak got even later on, though, when Jase started throwing things (mostly hymnals and Bibles, since I don't have a purse to ransack) into the aisle before I could react, and John had to bury his head between his legs to keep from cracking up. Zorak whispered to James, "Pretend we don't know them." Honestly, we are not usually an irreverent wrecking crew. We probably should have just slept in, in retrospect, but we were trying to the right thing. We hope to make it up at the pot luck this Sunday.
The rest of the week has been a bit of a blur. John's had a few nosebleeds, which is weird, since he's not a bleeder, really. We stayed home from the art-oriented reading thing, since we figured nobody would appreciate an impromptu exercise in hazmat containment. I keep checking him for other symptoms. Any symptoms. So far, nothing, but if it keeps up, we brave the malarial swamp to see the Wonderful Doctor.
EmBaby, Jase and I, all three, seem to have developed some kind of pre-summer narcoleptic superpower -- able to fall asleep at the slightest provocation any time between two and five. Thankfully, I haven't gone down while they're still up. But it's a struggle. I can only envision the Bigs taking wild advantage of that by eating all the chocolate chips in the pantry and playing video games until their eyes pop from their heads.
James has a new hobby. He's taken to mocking my first attempt at starting the car, loudly (and somewhat humorously, to be honest) wondering why I don't just pop the hood, spray it, and *then* try, instead of going the long way around. If I had a good reason, I'd share it with him. Totally irrational hope. That's all I've got. We thought we'd found a good replacement vehicle, but it turned out not to have the third row seat. Three of the five children balked at the idea of riding on the bumper buddy (Smidge thought it sounded fun), so we figure that extra seating is somewhat integral to the new car criteria. Still looking. :-)
And the days just keep coming and coming. I've got to go in for the follow-up on Joe tomorrow. (Thank God they called to remind me, or I'd have been wondering around mid-August if maybe I wasn't forgetting something.)
Meanwhile, the garden keeps on growing. The compost-raiding raccoons keep getting fatter. The pears are coming along beautifully and seem to have stopped dropping at a horrifying rate. The "blueberries" sign is out at the intersection. (We don't know for sure what's down there, and that's literally all the sign says, "blueberries". We suspect there is a pick-your-own farm somewhere down that road, but nobody in town seems to have been there. Ever. It's a bit odd, but now our curiosity is piqued.)
We did have a wonderful experience last week, though. The Suburban wouldn't start (not the wonderful part), and the starting fluid was empty (definitely not the wonderful part). I called down to the corner store to see if some kind soul would be willing to drive a can to us. (Because yes, we do live in the wonderful kind of small town where you can do that.) The sweet gal at the corner got off in a few minutes, and ran us up a can. *happy sigh* That's the wonderful part. It's nice to know you're only as stranded as the nearest helpful soul, isn't it?
I've heard it said it'll be the little things that break you, and to some extent, I think that's true. But I also believe it's the little things -- the humor, the kindness, the grace, the encouragement -- that get you through, and put it all in perspective. So, blurry as this week's been, it's been full of the right kind of little things, and that's good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We pretty much slept through Sunday, although we kinda-sorta made it to church. None of us was rested up. The Adults were a little off our game (namely defense), and the Littles were on FIRE. We sat in the back, which was a bad call, as EmBaby refuses to believe Pastor is talking to *her* if she cannot see him. She talked, hummed, sang the whole time. I suggested to John that perhaps she has Pentecostal blood. (The story being fresh in his head of the time I took my strict Southern Baptist mother to a FourSquare Pentecostal service, and the prophecy of the morning seemed directed pointedly at her, he got it.)
Zorak got even later on, though, when Jase started throwing things (mostly hymnals and Bibles, since I don't have a purse to ransack) into the aisle before I could react, and John had to bury his head between his legs to keep from cracking up. Zorak whispered to James, "Pretend we don't know them." Honestly, we are not usually an irreverent wrecking crew. We probably should have just slept in, in retrospect, but we were trying to the right thing. We hope to make it up at the pot luck this Sunday.
The rest of the week has been a bit of a blur. John's had a few nosebleeds, which is weird, since he's not a bleeder, really. We stayed home from the art-oriented reading thing, since we figured nobody would appreciate an impromptu exercise in hazmat containment. I keep checking him for other symptoms. Any symptoms. So far, nothing, but if it keeps up, we brave the malarial swamp to see the Wonderful Doctor.
EmBaby, Jase and I, all three, seem to have developed some kind of pre-summer narcoleptic superpower -- able to fall asleep at the slightest provocation any time between two and five. Thankfully, I haven't gone down while they're still up. But it's a struggle. I can only envision the Bigs taking wild advantage of that by eating all the chocolate chips in the pantry and playing video games until their eyes pop from their heads.
James has a new hobby. He's taken to mocking my first attempt at starting the car, loudly (and somewhat humorously, to be honest) wondering why I don't just pop the hood, spray it, and *then* try, instead of going the long way around. If I had a good reason, I'd share it with him. Totally irrational hope. That's all I've got. We thought we'd found a good replacement vehicle, but it turned out not to have the third row seat. Three of the five children balked at the idea of riding on the bumper buddy (Smidge thought it sounded fun), so we figure that extra seating is somewhat integral to the new car criteria. Still looking. :-)
And the days just keep coming and coming. I've got to go in for the follow-up on Joe tomorrow. (Thank God they called to remind me, or I'd have been wondering around mid-August if maybe I wasn't forgetting something.)
Meanwhile, the garden keeps on growing. The compost-raiding raccoons keep getting fatter. The pears are coming along beautifully and seem to have stopped dropping at a horrifying rate. The "blueberries" sign is out at the intersection. (We don't know for sure what's down there, and that's literally all the sign says, "blueberries". We suspect there is a pick-your-own farm somewhere down that road, but nobody in town seems to have been there. Ever. It's a bit odd, but now our curiosity is piqued.)
We did have a wonderful experience last week, though. The Suburban wouldn't start (not the wonderful part), and the starting fluid was empty (definitely not the wonderful part). I called down to the corner store to see if some kind soul would be willing to drive a can to us. (Because yes, we do live in the wonderful kind of small town where you can do that.) The sweet gal at the corner got off in a few minutes, and ran us up a can. *happy sigh* That's the wonderful part. It's nice to know you're only as stranded as the nearest helpful soul, isn't it?
I've heard it said it'll be the little things that break you, and to some extent, I think that's true. But I also believe it's the little things -- the humor, the kindness, the grace, the encouragement -- that get you through, and put it all in perspective. So, blurry as this week's been, it's been full of the right kind of little things, and that's good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, June 21
Nine, not just a daydream, anymore.
John is nine. He has never been so happy to be a new age as he is to be nine. It's funny, though -- in my heart, he sort of hovered at five-ish, or six. But, no. He's kept on growing, changing, maturing, all the way to nine. He's huge. And still wonderful.
To celebrate, we had a BBQ. We invited a few families over for the day, and had a truly, completely, utterly delightful day of it. It was such a success, actually, that Smidge said he wants, "the same people, the same, exact group," to come to his birthday BBQ.
We're so thankful for the friendships we've all made. Good friends, which take time to develop. New friends, slowly growing into Good friends. Roots, going deeper and growing richer.
The kids ran down to the creek, up to the meadow, all over the balcony. They played video games for a bit (it was 97 degrees, and eleventy-hundred percent humidity outside - they appreciated the reprieve from the weather), then ran back out and shot their bows for a bit, ran amok a little more. The kids were funny and energetic and polite, and they tumbled from one thing to another seamlessly, moving from one activity to another either in one large lump or a couple of smaller herds. We were really impressed with how well the kids meshed together, and I know Me-Tae and I had just as much fun watching them play, as they did playing.
Granny was still here for the party, and I'm sure it was nice for her to see that the children don't spend all their time locked in a dungeon, doing school work and sweatshop labor. Even when you know that's not how it is, I think you still worry a bit when you live so far, and your son and daughter-in-law have adopted some offbeat lifestyle quirks. So, it's probably nice to meet the friends who influence your children and grandchildren. Plus, we enjoyed showing her off. She's a Very Cool Granny.
So now, having been duly celebrated and christened into being nine, he's feeling pretty big. Pretty happy. Pretty good. Last night, as he drifted off to sleep on the twitchy haze of a great day, he told Zorak it was his best birthday, ever. That's always nice to hear. Every year is special and precious, but for a parent, it's more momentous than the children will ever know. One year older, one year wiser, one year closer to the fledgling years. *sniff*
Next up, Smidge. But I have a couple of months to brace myself for that, thankfully.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
To celebrate, we had a BBQ. We invited a few families over for the day, and had a truly, completely, utterly delightful day of it. It was such a success, actually, that Smidge said he wants, "the same people, the same, exact group," to come to his birthday BBQ.
We're so thankful for the friendships we've all made. Good friends, which take time to develop. New friends, slowly growing into Good friends. Roots, going deeper and growing richer.
The kids ran down to the creek, up to the meadow, all over the balcony. They played video games for a bit (it was 97 degrees, and eleventy-hundred percent humidity outside - they appreciated the reprieve from the weather), then ran back out and shot their bows for a bit, ran amok a little more. The kids were funny and energetic and polite, and they tumbled from one thing to another seamlessly, moving from one activity to another either in one large lump or a couple of smaller herds. We were really impressed with how well the kids meshed together, and I know Me-Tae and I had just as much fun watching them play, as they did playing.
Granny was still here for the party, and I'm sure it was nice for her to see that the children don't spend all their time locked in a dungeon, doing school work and sweatshop labor. Even when you know that's not how it is, I think you still worry a bit when you live so far, and your son and daughter-in-law have adopted some offbeat lifestyle quirks. So, it's probably nice to meet the friends who influence your children and grandchildren. Plus, we enjoyed showing her off. She's a Very Cool Granny.
So now, having been duly celebrated and christened into being nine, he's feeling pretty big. Pretty happy. Pretty good. Last night, as he drifted off to sleep on the twitchy haze of a great day, he told Zorak it was his best birthday, ever. That's always nice to hear. Every year is special and precious, but for a parent, it's more momentous than the children will ever know. One year older, one year wiser, one year closer to the fledgling years. *sniff*
Next up, Smidge. But I have a couple of months to brace myself for that, thankfully.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, June 20
And then a week later...
Good heavens, where has the week gone?
Granny, brother-in-law, and his friend left tonight for a straight 20-hour drive home. It was hard to see them go, but the friend is anxious to be home. In the week he's been gone, his family has been under evacuation for wild fires, he had a ton of work come into his shop, and then one of his littles fell ill with a mystery illness. If you would, please say a prayer that they'll arrive home, safe and sound, with good tailwinds to urge them on.
I can't believe how quickly the week flew! The kids had a wonderful time, wallowing in Granny's affections. Granny had a wonderful time soaking up the children and all their joyful love. Zorak and I accomplished an unbelievable amount of work, since Granny was able to make sure the children were not starving, or killing one another, or dismantling the foundations of the house while we worked.
Granny said next time she comes, she's coming in April. Or January. Or the middle of the night. Whenever it's not hot'n'sticky. Poor Granny.
We got the first half of the stain on the balcony (seven hours of squatting, kneeling, and stooping -- my thighs feel like I've been chased cross country by Susan Powter), and we put up the first 80-thousand or so pickets. It's very nearly Jason-proof, if he stays in the corner that's finished, anyway, and looks spectacular. If you look in the corner that's finished.
We cleared enough limbs and vines and brambles from the creek bank that we unearthed a little sandy, beach-like area. It's full of dragonflies and spring frogs and birds. It's shady and quiet. We sat down with the kids, and it was so idyllic that it took an act of God to get us up and moving again. (Mosquitoes, to be precise.)
We hung a tire swing down by the barn. The kids have played more on that this week than they have on the swing set in the back yard in the last two years.
We found a bridge! There's a bridge across the creek! Four years here, and I'm pretty sure I never knew that. Zorak knew, and he swears I knew, but it didn't ring a bell with me, at all.
So, we're making more progress on the property. And I seem to be delving into early senility. Good to know.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Granny, brother-in-law, and his friend left tonight for a straight 20-hour drive home. It was hard to see them go, but the friend is anxious to be home. In the week he's been gone, his family has been under evacuation for wild fires, he had a ton of work come into his shop, and then one of his littles fell ill with a mystery illness. If you would, please say a prayer that they'll arrive home, safe and sound, with good tailwinds to urge them on.
I can't believe how quickly the week flew! The kids had a wonderful time, wallowing in Granny's affections. Granny had a wonderful time soaking up the children and all their joyful love. Zorak and I accomplished an unbelievable amount of work, since Granny was able to make sure the children were not starving, or killing one another, or dismantling the foundations of the house while we worked.
Granny said next time she comes, she's coming in April. Or January. Or the middle of the night. Whenever it's not hot'n'sticky. Poor Granny.
We got the first half of the stain on the balcony (seven hours of squatting, kneeling, and stooping -- my thighs feel like I've been chased cross country by Susan Powter), and we put up the first 80-thousand or so pickets. It's very nearly Jason-proof, if he stays in the corner that's finished, anyway, and looks spectacular. If you look in the corner that's finished.
We cleared enough limbs and vines and brambles from the creek bank that we unearthed a little sandy, beach-like area. It's full of dragonflies and spring frogs and birds. It's shady and quiet. We sat down with the kids, and it was so idyllic that it took an act of God to get us up and moving again. (Mosquitoes, to be precise.)
We hung a tire swing down by the barn. The kids have played more on that this week than they have on the swing set in the back yard in the last two years.
We found a bridge! There's a bridge across the creek! Four years here, and I'm pretty sure I never knew that. Zorak knew, and he swears I knew, but it didn't ring a bell with me, at all.
So, we're making more progress on the property. And I seem to be delving into early senility. Good to know.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, June 14
On reading, flasks, and limbs
Zorak was gone all last week. You'd think we'd have taken that time to be productive and industrious. Or get out and explore. Or maybe even blog. No? Good call. We did nothing. We ate, read, cleaned a bit, read some more, ate a bit while we read, napped... we accomplished a little less than diddly, without any squat. It was heavenly.
But he's home now, and Granny is coming. The kids are beside themselves with anticipation. They're also lobbying for a calendar that's marked off in hourly increments, so they can tick those off, instead of having to wait for an Entire Daaayyyy to pass, first. The wait is killing them.
Meanwhile, the preparations are killing me. Not so much for Granny (although I do want to have the house clean for her, she knows I'm no Donna Reed, and I'm lucky to have a mother-in-law who is coming to see us, not the house). Moreso because Zorak's brother is bringing a friend-we-haven't-met-before. And while you don't mind family seeing your general squalor, it's a totally different thing for a stranger.
Come to think of it, I wonder if that's why he's bringing a friend? That's a pretty good way to make sure the accommodations are tip-top, eh? Hmmmm. I need to find a stranger for our next big trip...
Either way, it worked. I finally (almost a year later...) got the elastic and velcro on the couch slip cover. Might even wash it, if I'm feeling motivated tomorrow. And while I had the couch upside down, I was able to talk Zorak into fixing the broken leg. (Happy Coincidence, or Brilliant Design? You decide.)
OK, happy coincidence. You know us well, my friends.
ANYway. The Summer Reading Kick-Off was not bad. They had a ventriloquist who focused mostly on books, stories, fairy tales, etc. He was engaging, and good with the kids. Just as I was thinking we'd get out without a visit from the Bad Idea Fairy, they passed out otter pops immediately after the performance. Otter Pops. For the kids to eat *inside* the library. I made our kids put them back while we made our book selections, and then twitched my way across the library, watching all the other kids slurping, dripping, and flinging their way amongst the books. Why not set the cooler by the door, and hand out the goodies as people leave? Thinking about it still makes my eye twitch, almost a week later.
I'm toying with the idea of taking the kids to Shakespeare on the Mountain. They're doing The Merry Wives of Windsor, set in 1950's Miami, "with tributes to American TV Classics". I'm not a purist... but, evidently I'm close. I can't quite get excited about this one. Still haven't made up my mind. There are only two more show dates, though, so I've got to decide soon. James would love it, regardless. John might enjoy it. Smidge is happy, no matter what we do, as long as he's involved. Or gets a passable alternative to enjoy.
One would think, considering the amount of decluttering I've done (not last week, but today, at any rate), I'd have found my camera software. But, no. It looks like I'm going to have to call and beg them to send me a new disk. Maybe they can throw in a better filing and storage system, while they're at it? That'd be handy.
OK, morning comes early when you don't get to bed until it's on the porch.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
But he's home now, and Granny is coming. The kids are beside themselves with anticipation. They're also lobbying for a calendar that's marked off in hourly increments, so they can tick those off, instead of having to wait for an Entire Daaayyyy to pass, first. The wait is killing them.
Meanwhile, the preparations are killing me. Not so much for Granny (although I do want to have the house clean for her, she knows I'm no Donna Reed, and I'm lucky to have a mother-in-law who is coming to see us, not the house). Moreso because Zorak's brother is bringing a friend-we-haven't-met-before. And while you don't mind family seeing your general squalor, it's a totally different thing for a stranger.
Come to think of it, I wonder if that's why he's bringing a friend? That's a pretty good way to make sure the accommodations are tip-top, eh? Hmmmm. I need to find a stranger for our next big trip...
Either way, it worked. I finally (almost a year later...) got the elastic and velcro on the couch slip cover. Might even wash it, if I'm feeling motivated tomorrow. And while I had the couch upside down, I was able to talk Zorak into fixing the broken leg. (Happy Coincidence, or Brilliant Design? You decide.)
OK, happy coincidence. You know us well, my friends.
ANYway. The Summer Reading Kick-Off was not bad. They had a ventriloquist who focused mostly on books, stories, fairy tales, etc. He was engaging, and good with the kids. Just as I was thinking we'd get out without a visit from the Bad Idea Fairy, they passed out otter pops immediately after the performance. Otter Pops. For the kids to eat *inside* the library. I made our kids put them back while we made our book selections, and then twitched my way across the library, watching all the other kids slurping, dripping, and flinging their way amongst the books. Why not set the cooler by the door, and hand out the goodies as people leave? Thinking about it still makes my eye twitch, almost a week later.
I'm toying with the idea of taking the kids to Shakespeare on the Mountain. They're doing The Merry Wives of Windsor, set in 1950's Miami, "with tributes to American TV Classics". I'm not a purist... but, evidently I'm close. I can't quite get excited about this one. Still haven't made up my mind. There are only two more show dates, though, so I've got to decide soon. James would love it, regardless. John might enjoy it. Smidge is happy, no matter what we do, as long as he's involved. Or gets a passable alternative to enjoy.
One would think, considering the amount of decluttering I've done (not last week, but today, at any rate), I'd have found my camera software. But, no. It looks like I'm going to have to call and beg them to send me a new disk. Maybe they can throw in a better filing and storage system, while they're at it? That'd be handy.
OK, morning comes early when you don't get to bed until it's on the porch.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, June 8
Gah.
The Summer Reading program start date is upon us. The last few years, it wasn't too bad. Required no actual changes on our part, other than simply recording what we read, instead of just reading it. OK. But this year, they're requiring that we attend some hohah twice a week. And they're doing "themes" each week. Themes? Is this tied to the reading, or is this simply something "new" from the enthusiastic librarian? They've released no actual information, but it looks like it's just "something new"! (New librarian. Very enthusiastic. Perhaps overly so. *shrug*) I had no intention of doing it, but they put up ENORMOUS signs all over town. And, since two of five can read, well, I'm stuck.
I'd rather just stay home, read books, make our own pizza. For one thing, I'm always up for a reason to buy more books! For another, it's hot out there, why not stay in?
And getting back to the themes thing... arts & crafts (because I just don't have enough junk laying around my house), movement (in a tiny, one-room library, I'm thinking this is not the best activity), music (I'd rather stay home and read, or introduce the kids to John Prine...), and finally storytelling and drama (ah! the only one that's conceivably connected to reading!) Twice a week, they want us there. This may cause me to miss the old plan, which was pizza coupons for our local pizza joint. I never thought I'd look fondly on those days.
Lest you think I'm getting cynical, a little background on that. Our local pizza joint has... some serious issues. Their buffet is smaller than your average apartment kitchen counter. And yet, it takes up a huge proportion of the eating area. Not really a big deal, just don't order the buffet. But they love to have karaoke nights (complete with equipment that takes up the remaining space and makes getting to the bathroom an Olympic track event). And sports nights (creating a unique "surround sound" atmosphere, accomplished by turning the volume on each cheap TV up to full-on distortion level). They leave the doors open, so you freeze in the winter and have to battle the flies in the summer. If they hired a guy to pee in the corner occasionally, it would be a lot like being in NYC on a major holiday.
So, if you need something to do today, swing by the library. I'll be the one in the corner, twitching and trying to hide the flask.
I'd rather just stay home, read books, make our own pizza. For one thing, I'm always up for a reason to buy more books! For another, it's hot out there, why not stay in?
And getting back to the themes thing... arts & crafts (because I just don't have enough junk laying around my house), movement (in a tiny, one-room library, I'm thinking this is not the best activity), music (I'd rather stay home and read, or introduce the kids to John Prine...), and finally storytelling and drama (ah! the only one that's conceivably connected to reading!) Twice a week, they want us there. This may cause me to miss the old plan, which was pizza coupons for our local pizza joint. I never thought I'd look fondly on those days.
Lest you think I'm getting cynical, a little background on that. Our local pizza joint has... some serious issues. Their buffet is smaller than your average apartment kitchen counter. And yet, it takes up a huge proportion of the eating area. Not really a big deal, just don't order the buffet. But they love to have karaoke nights (complete with equipment that takes up the remaining space and makes getting to the bathroom an Olympic track event). And sports nights (creating a unique "surround sound" atmosphere, accomplished by turning the volume on each cheap TV up to full-on distortion level). They leave the doors open, so you freeze in the winter and have to battle the flies in the summer. If they hired a guy to pee in the corner occasionally, it would be a lot like being in NYC on a major holiday.
So, if you need something to do today, swing by the library. I'll be the one in the corner, twitching and trying to hide the flask.
Saturday, June 6
Scouts and Ball
That's it. See you the end of June.
OK, I'm kidding. It's nearly over. But that's not too far off from what our schedule has looked like the past month.
Smidge's team took their Division Championship today in a back-to-back gruel-a-thon. 15 minutes between games! (Who scheduled that one??) But they hung in there, and nobody puked. Hallelujah! They play for the County title on Tuesday, and, being five and six, they are excited about that, when you mention it. But for the most part, they are focused on having a Team Party! PAR-TAY! WOOHOO! Partypartyparty...
John's team went all the way to the County Championships this year. They played their wee hearts out, and they have coaches who are all about doing your best -- that's a winning combination, no matter what the scoreboard looks like. We have a team of boys who have just thrived under that guidance, from the ones who hustle like there's no tomorrow, to the ones who still can't quite manage to make the bat connect with the ball, they are a team. And they did well. They lost the final game today, placing second in the County, and maintaining their Division Championship status. That is one tired bunch of boys. Thankfully, next up on the schedule is the Team Party! PAR-TAY!! (Yes, some things don't change, no matter how old they get.)
James and John had Cub Scout camp this past week. To them, it was an amazing, magical, wonderful, fun-filled week. To Zorak and I, it was something entirely different, entailing transportation schedules, an inordinate amount of laundry (who assigned the *one* t-shirt they give the kids as the daily uniform for camp? Obviously, not the person who does the laundry), and a lot of seemingly wasted time. Adults look at things through a completely different set of lenses, don't they? I know that's how it should be, or nothing much would ever get done and humanity would die off from starvation and the fumes from dirty laundry. Still, sometimes I think it would be wonderful to look at opportunities through the Kid Lens rather than through the less-thrilling GrownUp Lens.
Maybe a combination? Perspective Bi-focals, for all of life's opportunities? Think there's a market for that?
We better get on the R&D for those, because the boys now want to have their own Camp in the upper meadow, complete with tent camping, cooking on the fire, and athletics. Smidge informed me tonight that "Dad gets to come, too!" Heh. Gets to...
I'll let you know how that goes.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
OK, I'm kidding. It's nearly over. But that's not too far off from what our schedule has looked like the past month.
Smidge's team took their Division Championship today in a back-to-back gruel-a-thon. 15 minutes between games! (Who scheduled that one??) But they hung in there, and nobody puked. Hallelujah! They play for the County title on Tuesday, and, being five and six, they are excited about that, when you mention it. But for the most part, they are focused on having a Team Party! PAR-TAY! WOOHOO! Partypartyparty...
John's team went all the way to the County Championships this year. They played their wee hearts out, and they have coaches who are all about doing your best -- that's a winning combination, no matter what the scoreboard looks like. We have a team of boys who have just thrived under that guidance, from the ones who hustle like there's no tomorrow, to the ones who still can't quite manage to make the bat connect with the ball, they are a team. And they did well. They lost the final game today, placing second in the County, and maintaining their Division Championship status. That is one tired bunch of boys. Thankfully, next up on the schedule is the Team Party! PAR-TAY!! (Yes, some things don't change, no matter how old they get.)
James and John had Cub Scout camp this past week. To them, it was an amazing, magical, wonderful, fun-filled week. To Zorak and I, it was something entirely different, entailing transportation schedules, an inordinate amount of laundry (who assigned the *one* t-shirt they give the kids as the daily uniform for camp? Obviously, not the person who does the laundry), and a lot of seemingly wasted time. Adults look at things through a completely different set of lenses, don't they? I know that's how it should be, or nothing much would ever get done and humanity would die off from starvation and the fumes from dirty laundry. Still, sometimes I think it would be wonderful to look at opportunities through the Kid Lens rather than through the less-thrilling GrownUp Lens.
Maybe a combination? Perspective Bi-focals, for all of life's opportunities? Think there's a market for that?
We better get on the R&D for those, because the boys now want to have their own Camp in the upper meadow, complete with tent camping, cooking on the fire, and athletics. Smidge informed me tonight that "Dad gets to come, too!" Heh. Gets to...
I'll let you know how that goes.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, June 1
The Others
Man, we lived the life of Other People yesterday - the Other People who are always on the go, always heading to another place. No wonder so many people are cranky! They don't have time to stop and smell the silk flower arrangements, or curl up for a few chapters in a good book "just because", or to sit down around the dinner table and enjoy the good company necessary to ensure good digestion. It's safe to say that we would not make good Other People. We don't move that quickly, and it's hard to move-and-read without getting hurt. And we truly need our familial gathering time, or all gastro breaks loose.
James and John have Scout Camp this week. They are having a blast with it. I am a little ooked out by having to pack lunches and send them out the door at 7:30 in the morning. No AM piano practice? No coffee on the balcony, listening to the practice? No jokes over breakfast? (Well, there are jokes, but not ones that make any sense. The Littles are funny in a different way, Charlie Brown.) 90% of the noise in the house is... gone.
John had a tournament game last night at 5:00. In another town. This was actually doable, except that he was so tuckered out from Camp that he fell asleep on the ride home, stumbled into the house and slept on the couch until I sent him to get his uniform on. He staggered back to his room and fell asleep on a bean bag. (I'm pretty sure he just fell over, and remained where he lay.) By some miracle, he got dressed and loaded both self and bat bag into the car. Then he curled up and slept all the way to the ball park in another town. DANG. That was one. tired. boy!
He played a great tournament game. Since it was just he and I, I got to sit up front with the other team Moms, and cheer until I went hoarse. I've never been able to enjoy a game like that before. We didn't get home until after 8:00! That's a 12-hr day! Yuck!
Thankfully, today is only be a short day. James asked if they'll at least be reading. I didn't tell him that it's all part of our evil plan, to make them want to read and study, even when it's not a formal part of their education. That might make him suspicious of all the books on the shelves... (but I am glad he likes a little light routine - that's good for the clutter, not to mention the soul). We'll walk by the creek (now that we can reach it), and we'll enjoy a nice, long supper together, followed by a little reading before bed.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
James and John have Scout Camp this week. They are having a blast with it. I am a little ooked out by having to pack lunches and send them out the door at 7:30 in the morning. No AM piano practice? No coffee on the balcony, listening to the practice? No jokes over breakfast? (Well, there are jokes, but not ones that make any sense. The Littles are funny in a different way, Charlie Brown.) 90% of the noise in the house is... gone.
John had a tournament game last night at 5:00. In another town. This was actually doable, except that he was so tuckered out from Camp that he fell asleep on the ride home, stumbled into the house and slept on the couch until I sent him to get his uniform on. He staggered back to his room and fell asleep on a bean bag. (I'm pretty sure he just fell over, and remained where he lay.) By some miracle, he got dressed and loaded both self and bat bag into the car. Then he curled up and slept all the way to the ball park in another town. DANG. That was one. tired. boy!
He played a great tournament game. Since it was just he and I, I got to sit up front with the other team Moms, and cheer until I went hoarse. I've never been able to enjoy a game like that before. We didn't get home until after 8:00! That's a 12-hr day! Yuck!
Thankfully, today is only be a short day. James asked if they'll at least be reading. I didn't tell him that it's all part of our evil plan, to make them want to read and study, even when it's not a formal part of their education. That might make him suspicious of all the books on the shelves... (but I am glad he likes a little light routine - that's good for the clutter, not to mention the soul). We'll walk by the creek (now that we can reach it), and we'll enjoy a nice, long supper together, followed by a little reading before bed.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, May 31
A Weekend To Remember
The first words Zorak spoke this morning were, "I'm getting old, aren't I?"
And men say we ask no-win questions? I wish he'd just asked me if his jeans make his butt look fat. I mean, technically, yes. (On getting old, not looking fat. He looks great. And I know better than to ask - either question.) The whole birthday observance does tend to note such an accomplishment as surviving another year. That yearly survival thing is tantamount to getting older.
But on several levels, I do wish he'd be a bit more cheerful about it. First, it beats the alternative. Second, um, I'm not far behind, and I'd rather not face my ensuing birthdays with the fear that he thinks I'm getting old. Gah. Way to set the bar, honey. Happy Birthday.
Zorak half-jokingly confided that he has a plan to arrive 20 minutes late for church, which puts us in about halfway through the opening prayer. PCA'ers do love their corporate prayer, that's for sure. We nailed it today, and slipped in (as quietly as seven people can slip into a completely silent room that has no sound dampening). Church was lovely. You know you have a good preacher when the verses are Genesis 46:8-27, and he can actually make an interesting, applicable sermon out of it.
We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince ourselves that we should go out and work. But it was "warm" out. And when it stopped being "warm" (yes, I'm using euphemisms), the "vampires" were out. So. We stayed inside and worked. Hung out. Played a bit. It was, after a holiday of sorts, right?
James lost a tooth this weekend.
John lost two teeth this weekend.
Smidge is just dying of anticipation over tournaments and the team party.
Jason FINALLY started walking today.
Emily is one tired child, trying to keep up with her brothers.
AND, I have to find the disks for my camera, because this computer doesn't have the stuff it needs to upload pictures from the camera or the memory card. So, no pictures just yet. (If you know where I've put it, though, please shoot me an email, okay?)
And so ends another weekend. As usual, we did not accomplish all that we hoped we would. We did accomplish the important things, though - time with the kids, and getting the skivvies washed for the week. Good stuff, that.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
And men say we ask no-win questions? I wish he'd just asked me if his jeans make his butt look fat. I mean, technically, yes. (On getting old, not looking fat. He looks great. And I know better than to ask - either question.) The whole birthday observance does tend to note such an accomplishment as surviving another year. That yearly survival thing is tantamount to getting older.
But on several levels, I do wish he'd be a bit more cheerful about it. First, it beats the alternative. Second, um, I'm not far behind, and I'd rather not face my ensuing birthdays with the fear that he thinks I'm getting old. Gah. Way to set the bar, honey. Happy Birthday.
Zorak half-jokingly confided that he has a plan to arrive 20 minutes late for church, which puts us in about halfway through the opening prayer. PCA'ers do love their corporate prayer, that's for sure. We nailed it today, and slipped in (as quietly as seven people can slip into a completely silent room that has no sound dampening). Church was lovely. You know you have a good preacher when the verses are Genesis 46:8-27, and he can actually make an interesting, applicable sermon out of it.
We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince ourselves that we should go out and work. But it was "warm" out. And when it stopped being "warm" (yes, I'm using euphemisms), the "vampires" were out. So. We stayed inside and worked. Hung out. Played a bit. It was, after a holiday of sorts, right?
James lost a tooth this weekend.
John lost two teeth this weekend.
Smidge is just dying of anticipation over tournaments and the team party.
Jason FINALLY started walking today.
Emily is one tired child, trying to keep up with her brothers.
AND, I have to find the disks for my camera, because this computer doesn't have the stuff it needs to upload pictures from the camera or the memory card. So, no pictures just yet. (If you know where I've put it, though, please shoot me an email, okay?)
And so ends another weekend. As usual, we did not accomplish all that we hoped we would. We did accomplish the important things, though - time with the kids, and getting the skivvies washed for the week. Good stuff, that.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, May 29
The Non-Agrarian Report
I don't know why we're doing this. I really don't. Zorak's pretty good at it, but what made him think I would be of any benefit is beyond me. The man obviously didn't marry me for my farmwife skilz.
There's a tree, down in the meadow, a huge, sprawling tree, that's been left to its own devices for such a long time. After "the mowing" (accompanied by "the twitching", and that one point where a blackberry bramble came up behind me and stuck me in the neck, and I nearly flew right up over the front of the mower, thinking I'd been nailed by a cottonmouth...) well, after all of that, and a few days to recover what's left of my dignity, I realized the tree is no longer nestled into anything, but stands proudly in the middle of the meadow.
It could have quite a bit of character, I thought. If properly trimmed, it could offer more than just a place for ticks and snakes and whoknowswhat to hide, but it could also provide a shady place to the babies to play (but not with the snakes), and for us to rest during the hot summer days.
So once again, my flights of imagination overruled my common sense, and I got out there with trimmers and clippers and a saw. I'll get pictures today. I swear to you, I think it's a poison ivy TREE. I kid you not. John was with me, and I warned him to stay away from the poison ivy. But then we noticed it was everywhere. Then we noticed it was not growing *on* the tree, it was growing *out of* the tree. As if it were the tree. Huh. Weird.
Since I haven't reacted to poison ivy yet, I set John loose to hack down the stuff the mower couldn't take down (it is so nice to have a child proficient with a machete, weird as that may sound), and I got to work. Got all the lower limbs, got the suckers off, and then I scaled the tree to start working on the upper portion. All was well, until I realized the tree was absolutely *covered* in little bitty caterpillars. And spiders the size of my thumb. And poison ivy vines. Not a realization you want to come to, twenty feet up in the air.
I'll skip the part about calling for a spotter, but I will say Zorak has learned a lot about working with the less-capable in the field. He remembered to warn me before he grabbed hold of my leg to steady me. Heaven knows I might have panicked and scrambled up to the top of the tree, thinking I'd been nabbed by a rare Alabama Python! And it's hard to blog from the top of a tree.
The children have also learned to at least wait until Mom's back on the ground before you start snickering. Although John did offer to go up for me next time.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
There's a tree, down in the meadow, a huge, sprawling tree, that's been left to its own devices for such a long time. After "the mowing" (accompanied by "the twitching", and that one point where a blackberry bramble came up behind me and stuck me in the neck, and I nearly flew right up over the front of the mower, thinking I'd been nailed by a cottonmouth...) well, after all of that, and a few days to recover what's left of my dignity, I realized the tree is no longer nestled into anything, but stands proudly in the middle of the meadow.
It could have quite a bit of character, I thought. If properly trimmed, it could offer more than just a place for ticks and snakes and whoknowswhat to hide, but it could also provide a shady place to the babies to play (but not with the snakes), and for us to rest during the hot summer days.
So once again, my flights of imagination overruled my common sense, and I got out there with trimmers and clippers and a saw. I'll get pictures today. I swear to you, I think it's a poison ivy TREE. I kid you not. John was with me, and I warned him to stay away from the poison ivy. But then we noticed it was everywhere. Then we noticed it was not growing *on* the tree, it was growing *out of* the tree. As if it were the tree. Huh. Weird.
Since I haven't reacted to poison ivy yet, I set John loose to hack down the stuff the mower couldn't take down (it is so nice to have a child proficient with a machete, weird as that may sound), and I got to work. Got all the lower limbs, got the suckers off, and then I scaled the tree to start working on the upper portion. All was well, until I realized the tree was absolutely *covered* in little bitty caterpillars. And spiders the size of my thumb. And poison ivy vines. Not a realization you want to come to, twenty feet up in the air.
I'll skip the part about calling for a spotter, but I will say Zorak has learned a lot about working with the less-capable in the field. He remembered to warn me before he grabbed hold of my leg to steady me. Heaven knows I might have panicked and scrambled up to the top of the tree, thinking I'd been nabbed by a rare Alabama Python! And it's hard to blog from the top of a tree.
The children have also learned to at least wait until Mom's back on the ground before you start snickering. Although John did offer to go up for me next time.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, May 23
Saturday
Well, that was odd. Tried to hit "enter" and posted an empty post, instead. And here, I thought I'd had enough coffee to get started today!
The boys are off on a Cub Scout hike. Three miles in the mountains. It's a gorgeous morning, and both Zorak and I are railing a bit against the fact that I'm the one who loves early mornings, getting out of the house on Saturday, hiking, (he just... doesn't) and yet he's the one co-opted to go this morning. I suggested we all go, but the idea of carrying Jase and EmBaby three miles in the mountains didn't really appeal to either of us. Then I thought perhaps I could go, and he could stay, but the boys expect Dad to go, if he can. Plus, he enjoys seeing them enjoy themselves. That's one of the things parenthood does: you do things you may not enjoy, just for the smile on the children's faces. It's a wonderful kind of selfishness that makes me love him all the more.
And so, the Smallest and I are home, wondering what to do next. I hate the thought of tilling or mowing with only the Littles. Maybe we'll just go dig. Or prune. Or gather limbs for a bonfire. Or maybe just ride around the property on the wagon? Since Zorak fixed the Little Red Wagon, we've had a lot of fun hauling children and limbs and more children and the occasional plant.
What to do with a quiet Saturday morning?
The boys are off on a Cub Scout hike. Three miles in the mountains. It's a gorgeous morning, and both Zorak and I are railing a bit against the fact that I'm the one who loves early mornings, getting out of the house on Saturday, hiking, (he just... doesn't) and yet he's the one co-opted to go this morning. I suggested we all go, but the idea of carrying Jase and EmBaby three miles in the mountains didn't really appeal to either of us. Then I thought perhaps I could go, and he could stay, but the boys expect Dad to go, if he can. Plus, he enjoys seeing them enjoy themselves. That's one of the things parenthood does: you do things you may not enjoy, just for the smile on the children's faces. It's a wonderful kind of selfishness that makes me love him all the more.
And so, the Smallest and I are home, wondering what to do next. I hate the thought of tilling or mowing with only the Littles. Maybe we'll just go dig. Or prune. Or gather limbs for a bonfire. Or maybe just ride around the property on the wagon? Since Zorak fixed the Little Red Wagon, we've had a lot of fun hauling children and limbs and more children and the occasional plant.
What to do with a quiet Saturday morning?
Thursday, May 21
So late! Not sleepy!
It is a sick bit of humor, this whole technically not being nocturnal thing. Gah. And it only gets worse as summer approaches. (Although today, I had to give kudos to Zorak and I. It is the end of May, and there we sat, side-by-side, out in the yard, not complaining. Four years ago, by the end of May, we'd stopped venturing outside at all, let alone for leisure.)
Thank you for the great food ideas! I'm excited about trying some, and y'all got me lookin' for fun and feeling groovy. (I'm also trying desperately to get another song out of my head, so please forgive any further random lyric placement. It's all I've got, unless I want to go wake up one of the kids and make them talk to me of other things until it goes away.)
Zorak is the KING, folks. He rocks, and somehow, some way, managed to get the mower running. (And, as an added bonus, it now seems to be impervious to my diabolical efforts.) I mowed for two and a half hours. My butt is still numb, seven hours later, but the lower meadow looks almost great! Best. News. All. Week.
In his spare time, he has also been building me a pantry shelf for the basement, to replace the plywood and plumbing tape one we scabbed together two years ago. That one served us well, but it's a little ugly. And, being comprised mostly of scrap, it's a little saggy at this point. This new one's purty. And strong! It has a metal screen back, and doors up top, and will fit everything from coffee cans to five gallon buckets to coffee bags to canned goods and even those little sacks of coffee beans. To celebrate, I think I'll do groceries tomorrow!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thank you for the great food ideas! I'm excited about trying some, and y'all got me lookin' for fun and feeling groovy. (I'm also trying desperately to get another song out of my head, so please forgive any further random lyric placement. It's all I've got, unless I want to go wake up one of the kids and make them talk to me of other things until it goes away.)
Zorak is the KING, folks. He rocks, and somehow, some way, managed to get the mower running. (And, as an added bonus, it now seems to be impervious to my diabolical efforts.) I mowed for two and a half hours. My butt is still numb, seven hours later, but the lower meadow looks almost great! Best. News. All. Week.
In his spare time, he has also been building me a pantry shelf for the basement, to replace the plywood and plumbing tape one we scabbed together two years ago. That one served us well, but it's a little ugly. And, being comprised mostly of scrap, it's a little saggy at this point. This new one's purty. And strong! It has a metal screen back, and doors up top, and will fit everything from coffee cans to five gallon buckets to coffee bags to canned goods and even those little sacks of coffee beans. To celebrate, I think I'll do groceries tomorrow!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Labels:
domestic miscellany,
not-quite-gardening,
projects
Wednesday, May 20
Productivity and Ruts
Sometimes, I have no idea how we accomplish anything at all. It's just sort of a mystery, to be honest. And yet, we had a productive day, and are looking to have a productive rest-of-the-week. It's a mystery I'll take!
The mower is now working again. So says Zorak. I will believe it when I've mowed more than a quarter acre with it and haven't broken it (again). Why, yes, I am starting to develop a bit of a complex regarding my effect on lawn equipment. Bless him, he says it's not my fault. Every woman should have a man who is willing to say that. Even if there is nothing to indicate that it's true. It's still Very Sweet of him.
Speaking of my Very Sweet Man, I need some summer meal ideas. Normally, we have a full repertoire that we enjoy eating, enjoy preparing, the whole shebang. But lately? Meh. On all counts.
When I have a plan for supper, it usually leaves Zorak thinking he should have hit the buffet for lunch that day. He is never, ever ungracious about it, but you can just feel the disappointment radiating from the phone as he manages to choke out, "Oh. Yeah. That'd be fine." It's deflating, for both of us.
Of course, when I figure we'll just wait 'til he gets home and then figure it out, that's the day something exploded at work, or didn't get signed in triplicate, or whatever, and he never had a chance to eat lunch. (Considering he does not eat breakfast, this means he arrives home ready to eat laminate flooring and wash it down with cold bathwater, if necessary.) Also somewhat deflating.
If this could reasonably be called "a rut", we are stuck in it. I suspect we are too close to it (or not hungry enough yet) to sort through it quickly and subjectively. Everything we came up with that sounded remotely good for the next two weeks' menu centered on wintery, thick, body-warming meals. Probably not "just the thing" for heading into Southern Summer. So I thought I would beg for help from my fantastic readers.
Help?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The mower is now working again. So says Zorak. I will believe it when I've mowed more than a quarter acre with it and haven't broken it (again). Why, yes, I am starting to develop a bit of a complex regarding my effect on lawn equipment. Bless him, he says it's not my fault. Every woman should have a man who is willing to say that. Even if there is nothing to indicate that it's true. It's still Very Sweet of him.
Speaking of my Very Sweet Man, I need some summer meal ideas. Normally, we have a full repertoire that we enjoy eating, enjoy preparing, the whole shebang. But lately? Meh. On all counts.
When I have a plan for supper, it usually leaves Zorak thinking he should have hit the buffet for lunch that day. He is never, ever ungracious about it, but you can just feel the disappointment radiating from the phone as he manages to choke out, "Oh. Yeah. That'd be fine." It's deflating, for both of us.
Of course, when I figure we'll just wait 'til he gets home and then figure it out, that's the day something exploded at work, or didn't get signed in triplicate, or whatever, and he never had a chance to eat lunch. (Considering he does not eat breakfast, this means he arrives home ready to eat laminate flooring and wash it down with cold bathwater, if necessary.) Also somewhat deflating.
If this could reasonably be called "a rut", we are stuck in it. I suspect we are too close to it (or not hungry enough yet) to sort through it quickly and subjectively. Everything we came up with that sounded remotely good for the next two weeks' menu centered on wintery, thick, body-warming meals. Probably not "just the thing" for heading into Southern Summer. So I thought I would beg for help from my fantastic readers.
Help?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, May 19
Man, alive!
Today was one of those sumo wrestler days. One of those skulking, sumo-gone-bad, street thug wrestler days that began with a cranky repairman, a vomiting toddler, and an attack of stream-of-consciousness monologue torture from one of the children. Thankfully, we are a crafty bunch and we managed, by working together and refusing to take ourselves too seriously, to slip away from the insanity and survive somewhat unscathed.
The weather was absolutely gorgeous ALL DAY! As a result, the kids accomplished very little in the way of school. They'd no sooner finish a chapter or a review, as they'd slip out to frolic in the trees and meadows. Granted, I can be a bit of a slave driver when necessary, but even I didn't have the heart to drag them back inside on a day like today. There'll be plenty of time to work in August, when none of us wants to move.
Tonight it's downright chilly. I'm tempted to sleep on the balcony, happily shivering into the early morning hours, if only because I know that come August, cool nights will be only a taunting memory, right alongside the days of choosing to be outside in the afternoons. Of course, since I cannot think of a way to explain my cold, dew-covered, balcony-dwelling self to my Beloved, I'm opting, instead, to stay up far too late with the doors open and the fans on, in the hope of luring the cool air into the house. I'm too cold to type well, but it feels SO nice!
I called and got the specs on sending the camera in for a cleaning and repair, so it'll go out Thursday. Hopefully, it'll soon be back and functional, and I got PHOTOSHOP ELEMENTS and cannot *wait* to try it out! (It was a Very Thoughtful Gift. I'm hoping to manage to get some frame-quality pictures out of it, to have done up nicely and given as a Thank You. That sounds so lame, written out, but in my head it sounded better than a pint jar of apple butter...)
And that's about it. Smidge's team won today's game. No more ball 'til Thursday, so we plan to work like industrious little farmers between now and then. TONS of gardening/farming/Forever Home news, but it will have to wait until I'm done reveling in the joy of being chilly just one. last. time.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The weather was absolutely gorgeous ALL DAY! As a result, the kids accomplished very little in the way of school. They'd no sooner finish a chapter or a review, as they'd slip out to frolic in the trees and meadows. Granted, I can be a bit of a slave driver when necessary, but even I didn't have the heart to drag them back inside on a day like today. There'll be plenty of time to work in August, when none of us wants to move.
Tonight it's downright chilly. I'm tempted to sleep on the balcony, happily shivering into the early morning hours, if only because I know that come August, cool nights will be only a taunting memory, right alongside the days of choosing to be outside in the afternoons. Of course, since I cannot think of a way to explain my cold, dew-covered, balcony-dwelling self to my Beloved, I'm opting, instead, to stay up far too late with the doors open and the fans on, in the hope of luring the cool air into the house. I'm too cold to type well, but it feels SO nice!
I called and got the specs on sending the camera in for a cleaning and repair, so it'll go out Thursday. Hopefully, it'll soon be back and functional, and I got PHOTOSHOP ELEMENTS and cannot *wait* to try it out! (It was a Very Thoughtful Gift. I'm hoping to manage to get some frame-quality pictures out of it, to have done up nicely and given as a Thank You. That sounds so lame, written out, but in my head it sounded better than a pint jar of apple butter...)
And that's about it. Smidge's team won today's game. No more ball 'til Thursday, so we plan to work like industrious little farmers between now and then. TONS of gardening/farming/Forever Home news, but it will have to wait until I'm done reveling in the joy of being chilly just one. last. time.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, May 17
Fences and Neighbors
Either our neighbors are going to have to get a grip on their chickens, or they are going to have to accept a certain amount of depredation on them. Either way, something's got to give. The chickens scratched the tea garden to pieces. They also went nuts on my oregano plant. I think that whole section of the yard is now in shock.
As I patted the plants back into place and put the mulch back where it belongs, I found myself thinking dark thoughts, like chicken stock and chicken casserole and chicken taxidermy.
We got everything put to rights, though, and then enjoyed the rest of the day. Church was lovely, and nobody fell asleep. We came home to rain, off and on, so we did pretty much nothing other than play Quiddler, watch a movie, and do laundry. Zorak grilled during a break in the cloud cover, and we enjoyed kabobs and beans for supper.
One wouldn't think one would be quite so wiped out by such a low-intensity day, huh? Surprise! I'm beat! And so, to bed.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
As I patted the plants back into place and put the mulch back where it belongs, I found myself thinking dark thoughts, like chicken stock and chicken casserole and chicken taxidermy.
We got everything put to rights, though, and then enjoyed the rest of the day. Church was lovely, and nobody fell asleep. We came home to rain, off and on, so we did pretty much nothing other than play Quiddler, watch a movie, and do laundry. Zorak grilled during a break in the cloud cover, and we enjoyed kabobs and beans for supper.
One wouldn't think one would be quite so wiped out by such a low-intensity day, huh? Surprise! I'm beat! And so, to bed.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Life in the Spring: Ball and Gardening
Mondays through Fridays:
Wake, eat, study, eat, baseball, eat, bed.
Saturdays:
Wake, eat, baseball, baseball, baseball, eat-until-we-pass-out.
Sundays:
Wake, eat, church, work on the Forever Home, eat, bed.
This is why monks don't usually blog. It's very difficult to make that much unyielding routine sound interesting.
John's team finished their regular season today. They ended the season 10 and 3, a respectable finish. Tournaments begin at some unspecified point in the future, and they're a strong team going into it. I think they've got their eyes on the Championship. John really wants to see his name on a banner at the fields. :-)
Smidge's team is sitting at 8 and 1, with a make-up game to be played tomorrow. They have Unspecified Tournaments, too. Hopefully at the same fields as John's team. Then we're done. For the Spring. Fall Ball registration starts during the Tournaments, though.
Right now, Smidge says he wants a break (he loves his Mama), and John says, "Of COURSE I want to play Fall Ball!" (I tell myself he still loves me...)
We've had total failure on both apple trees this year. No clue what happened, but there's only one apple between the two trees. The pears are thick, but now we're getting "June drop". We suspect they're too heavily laden to handle the load. I don't know if it's too late to fix that. If it will ever stop raining (and we aren't at the fields when it's not raining - farmers cannot play baseball, that much we've learned), we'll thin the fruit and fertilize and see if that helps. Regardless, we've definitely decided to add more fruit trees to the Forever Home. Hopefully, a wider variety of fruit will help offset bad years like this.
James put in a tea garden. He started with just three plants, but hopes to have about six or seven varieties once he gets it established. It's darling, and we're looking forward to enjoying tea from the garden!
We have herbs in, and the Earth Boxes are planted with peppers, tomatoes, and lettuces. (I know, it's a little late for lettuce. Like I said, baseball and farming... not so much for the unorganized.)
OK, ok, you got me. It's us. We just don't know what we're doing, and we aren't organized enough to multi-task efficiently. Ah, but at least we're learning as we go, and enjoying the company along the way. That's something, right?
We'll be back to our regular, less-routine routine soon!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wake, eat, study, eat, baseball, eat, bed.
Saturdays:
Wake, eat, baseball, baseball, baseball, eat-until-we-pass-out.
Sundays:
Wake, eat, church, work on the Forever Home, eat, bed.
This is why monks don't usually blog. It's very difficult to make that much unyielding routine sound interesting.
John's team finished their regular season today. They ended the season 10 and 3, a respectable finish. Tournaments begin at some unspecified point in the future, and they're a strong team going into it. I think they've got their eyes on the Championship. John really wants to see his name on a banner at the fields. :-)
Smidge's team is sitting at 8 and 1, with a make-up game to be played tomorrow. They have Unspecified Tournaments, too. Hopefully at the same fields as John's team. Then we're done. For the Spring. Fall Ball registration starts during the Tournaments, though.
Right now, Smidge says he wants a break (he loves his Mama), and John says, "Of COURSE I want to play Fall Ball!" (I tell myself he still loves me...)
We've had total failure on both apple trees this year. No clue what happened, but there's only one apple between the two trees. The pears are thick, but now we're getting "June drop". We suspect they're too heavily laden to handle the load. I don't know if it's too late to fix that. If it will ever stop raining (and we aren't at the fields when it's not raining - farmers cannot play baseball, that much we've learned), we'll thin the fruit and fertilize and see if that helps. Regardless, we've definitely decided to add more fruit trees to the Forever Home. Hopefully, a wider variety of fruit will help offset bad years like this.
James put in a tea garden. He started with just three plants, but hopes to have about six or seven varieties once he gets it established. It's darling, and we're looking forward to enjoying tea from the garden!
We have herbs in, and the Earth Boxes are planted with peppers, tomatoes, and lettuces. (I know, it's a little late for lettuce. Like I said, baseball and farming... not so much for the unorganized.)
OK, ok, you got me. It's us. We just don't know what we're doing, and we aren't organized enough to multi-task efficiently. Ah, but at least we're learning as we go, and enjoying the company along the way. That's something, right?
We'll be back to our regular, less-routine routine soon!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Labels:
life in the south,
not-quite-gardening,
play ball
Friday, May 8
Too Good Not To Share
Got these from Me-Wa (Ward). Some of them made me laugh so hard!
1. AVOID CUTTING YOURSELF WHEN SLICING VEGETABLES BY GETTING SOMEONE ELSE TO HOLD THE VEGETABLES WHILE YOU SLICE.
2. AVOID ARGUMENTS WITH THE FEMALES ABOUT LIFTING THE TOILET SEAT BY USING THE SINK..
3. FOR HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE SUFFERERS ~ SIMPLY CUT YOURSELF AND BLEED FOR A FEW MINUTES, THUS REDUCING THE PRESSURE ON YOUR VEINS. REMEMBER TO USE A TIMER.
4. A MOUSE TRAP PLACED ON TOP OF YOUR ALARM CLOCK WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ROLLING OVER AND GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER YOU HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON.
5. IF YOU HAVE A BAD COUGH, TAKE A LARGE DOSE OF LAXATIVES. THEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID TO COUGH.
6. YOU ONLY NEED TWO TOOLS IN LIFE - WD-40 AND DUCT TAPE. IF IT DOESN'T MOVE AND SHOULD, USE THE WD-40.. IF IT SHOULDN'T MOVE AND DOES, USE THE DUCT TAPE.
7. IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT WITH A HAMMER, YOU'VE GOT AN ELECTRICAL PROBLEM.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
1. AVOID CUTTING YOURSELF WHEN SLICING VEGETABLES BY GETTING SOMEONE ELSE TO HOLD THE VEGETABLES WHILE YOU SLICE.
2. AVOID ARGUMENTS WITH THE FEMALES ABOUT LIFTING THE TOILET SEAT BY USING THE SINK..
3. FOR HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE SUFFERERS ~ SIMPLY CUT YOURSELF AND BLEED FOR A FEW MINUTES, THUS REDUCING THE PRESSURE ON YOUR VEINS. REMEMBER TO USE A TIMER.
4. A MOUSE TRAP PLACED ON TOP OF YOUR ALARM CLOCK WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ROLLING OVER AND GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER YOU HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON.
5. IF YOU HAVE A BAD COUGH, TAKE A LARGE DOSE OF LAXATIVES. THEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID TO COUGH.
6. YOU ONLY NEED TWO TOOLS IN LIFE - WD-40 AND DUCT TAPE. IF IT DOESN'T MOVE AND SHOULD, USE THE WD-40.. IF IT SHOULDN'T MOVE AND DOES, USE THE DUCT TAPE.
7. IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT WITH A HAMMER, YOU'VE GOT AN ELECTRICAL PROBLEM.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, May 4
A Truly Exciting Day
Zorak headed off this morning to keep the world safe, and the mortgage paid (he's got mad multi-tasking skilz) while the Small Ones and I got to lounge about, reading literature and discussing Latin declensions (we do not multi-task, which is why it took us all morning).
It got exciting later, okay?
We had one of those Gosh-Why-Can't-They-Schedule-Games-Around-Sibling-Groupings evenings, when Smidge had practice in town, and John had a game at the same time, out of town. Gargh. We have trouble finagling those even when we're both in town (mostly because Zorak and I waste a good hour trying not to make eye contact while we both pretend we don't mind driving "all the way down there", knowing full well we'd both rather be home in our sweats, watching Netflix - so, it takes us a while to draw straws and get on the road). Since there was only me to avoid making eye contact with... um, myself... I called on the kindness of John's coach to let John hitch a ride to his game in Falkville (the town that takes its baseball Very Seriously), so that Smidge wouldn't have to be abandoned at the park for some unknown period of time while I fine-tuned the Cellular Transporter and Astral Travel Machine.
OK, no, I don't have a Cellular Transporter. Or an Astral Travel Machine. Though that'd be pretty durned cool, wouldn't it? I do have a Cellular phone, though. And we hit the ATM. Oh, and starter fluid, which I pretty much need 80% of the time, now, if we actually need the Suburban to get somewhere. Anyway. After Smidge's practice, we headed down to catch what I thought was the last 15 minutes of John's game.
I was So. Wrong. They were at the top of the fifth (they only play five innings, so, theoretically, the end of the game). The field was muddy, the ball was muddy, the bats were muddy, and the kids were muddy. It was nasty, and I can't believe they played. (I told you they take their baseball Very Seriously!) The score was 1-0, Falkville. Dang. That's so... wait, what's this? Four runs! Wow. Nice!
Falkville came up to bat and got three runs. Score's tied.
(Does this mean we can't go home yet?)
Why yes, yes it does.
THREE innings later, the game ended with a single run. 5-4, victory for John's team. Even James, who pays NO attention to the games, was riveted to the fence. I don't think I've ever seen two teams scrabble so hard for every little run, every out, every play. I'm tellin' ya, every child on that field today should be proud of what he accomplished. It was amazing. We didn't get out of there until 8:30!
We piled back in the Transporter. And, it failed to transport us. The miraculous starter fluid even failed me. Finally, we had to get a jump to get going. Then, that wasn't enough - the Suburban choked and died backing out of the parking space, and we had to get another jump. Gah. How embarrassing. In the dark. 45 minutes from home. At night. With all those kids in the car. And did I have snacks? NO, we ate them while waiting for Smidge's practice to end! Talk about lack of foresight. We really must procure a replacement vehicle soon. And hide more snacks in the car.
I need to take some Thank You Goodies to the wonderful friends who hauled a child, and the other wonderful friends who bailed us out of a pickle. Yup. Wonderful People. We are Very Fortunate, indeed.
We have to go back tomorrow, for Smidge's game, and I don't wanna!
We came home, ate hummus and pita bread, and everybody crashed. I think Smidge may have fallen asleep with floss still stuck in his teeth. That was one tired bunch of kids! This Mama is tired, but wired, so I do think I'll curl up with some ice cream and a Netflix and decompress before turning in. Sounds like a plan!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
It got exciting later, okay?
We had one of those Gosh-Why-Can't-They-Schedule-Games-Around-Sibling-Groupings evenings, when Smidge had practice in town, and John had a game at the same time, out of town. Gargh. We have trouble finagling those even when we're both in town (mostly because Zorak and I waste a good hour trying not to make eye contact while we both pretend we don't mind driving "all the way down there", knowing full well we'd both rather be home in our sweats, watching Netflix - so, it takes us a while to draw straws and get on the road). Since there was only me to avoid making eye contact with... um, myself... I called on the kindness of John's coach to let John hitch a ride to his game in Falkville (the town that takes its baseball Very Seriously), so that Smidge wouldn't have to be abandoned at the park for some unknown period of time while I fine-tuned the Cellular Transporter and Astral Travel Machine.
OK, no, I don't have a Cellular Transporter. Or an Astral Travel Machine. Though that'd be pretty durned cool, wouldn't it? I do have a Cellular phone, though. And we hit the ATM. Oh, and starter fluid, which I pretty much need 80% of the time, now, if we actually need the Suburban to get somewhere. Anyway. After Smidge's practice, we headed down to catch what I thought was the last 15 minutes of John's game.
I was So. Wrong. They were at the top of the fifth (they only play five innings, so, theoretically, the end of the game). The field was muddy, the ball was muddy, the bats were muddy, and the kids were muddy. It was nasty, and I can't believe they played. (I told you they take their baseball Very Seriously!) The score was 1-0, Falkville. Dang. That's so... wait, what's this? Four runs! Wow. Nice!
Falkville came up to bat and got three runs. Score's tied.
(Does this mean we can't go home yet?)
Why yes, yes it does.
THREE innings later, the game ended with a single run. 5-4, victory for John's team. Even James, who pays NO attention to the games, was riveted to the fence. I don't think I've ever seen two teams scrabble so hard for every little run, every out, every play. I'm tellin' ya, every child on that field today should be proud of what he accomplished. It was amazing. We didn't get out of there until 8:30!
We piled back in the Transporter. And, it failed to transport us. The miraculous starter fluid even failed me. Finally, we had to get a jump to get going. Then, that wasn't enough - the Suburban choked and died backing out of the parking space, and we had to get another jump. Gah. How embarrassing. In the dark. 45 minutes from home. At night. With all those kids in the car. And did I have snacks? NO, we ate them while waiting for Smidge's practice to end! Talk about lack of foresight. We really must procure a replacement vehicle soon. And hide more snacks in the car.
I need to take some Thank You Goodies to the wonderful friends who hauled a child, and the other wonderful friends who bailed us out of a pickle. Yup. Wonderful People. We are Very Fortunate, indeed.
We have to go back tomorrow, for Smidge's game, and I don't wanna!
We came home, ate hummus and pita bread, and everybody crashed. I think Smidge may have fallen asleep with floss still stuck in his teeth. That was one tired bunch of kids! This Mama is tired, but wired, so I do think I'll curl up with some ice cream and a Netflix and decompress before turning in. Sounds like a plan!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
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