Sometimes it takes me a while...

Recently, I have discovered some things. Actually, I have rediscovered that I own some things that, for unknown reasons, I didn't pay attention to at the time I acquired them.

Not long after I moved here, I was nurturing a new love for the sound of the banjo, thanks to one song by Grant Lee Buffalo. I was, as a result, discovering music that I previously (in my immaturity) would have sworn I would never listen to... like bluegrass. One of my roommates recommended that I listen to Gillian Welch. Not being very well off, I didn't run out and buy any CD's. At some point, my brother gave me a copy of Welch's Revival. I can't remember when. Scanning through my CD's a month ago, I ran across it, and realized I should have listened to it long ago. It is amazing.

Two days ago, I discovered that one of my tomato plants has a bad infestation of aphids. My immediate reaction is to do a search on Google. So I did. But then something in my brain triggered the memory of a book long neglected on my bookshelf: Organic Gardening, by Geoff Hamilton. My sister-in-law gave it to me for Christmas a year and a half ago, and being the middle of winter, didn't think to read it right away. Perhaps I should have. Anyway, the combination of my current tomato woe and the hot weather outdoors led me to pull it out and do some reading.

After reading This Common Ground, and my recent 'research' into farming and keeping animals, this tied things together nicely for me. The basis of organic gardening is caring for the soil to provide the proper environment for plants to grow in. The thing that amazes me most is that this can really only be accomplished with a little bit of everything. I know that was vague, but I'll try to explain.

'Conventional' farming (which is a term that is ridiculous to me, since it has only been the norm for the past 60 years, as opposed to thousands of years) applies chemical fertilizer to the soil to feed the plants. The soil is just the holder of the 'nutrients' needed for the plants to grow and reproduce. Every natural living thing in the soil ends up dying off, the soil degenerates, and as a result, more fertilizer is needed, pests become more of a problem, and a vicious cycle of chemical treatment is created.

In a natural and organic farm/garden, nearly all parts of nature contribute to maintain healthy soil. Plant material and animal manure is returned to the soil. Worms, bacteria, and fungi help break the 'waste' down where the plants can use it again to produce healthy, nutrient-rich produce. Bugs have their place, too. It really amazes me to see how God intended everything to work together, and how man can really mess things up when we decided that we can do it a better way.

I've realized how limited my little garden is. My compost pile receives only leaves and kitchen scraps. Manure would help it immensely. My small garden plot only allows for limited growing, which means I notice when the rabbit has nibbled my plants (which makes me mad), and makes the idea of 'crop rotation' a joke.

I find myself dreaming again about having the one or two dairy cows, half a dozen chickens, and that little acreage that could possibly be a nearly self-sustaining family farm. So, although it is hot out, and my swelling feet and belly give me an excuse to let the weeds grow around my lettuce and carrots, I keep thinking of little steps I can take toward my dream.

The latest wild hair is to build a little worm farm. There is a section in Organic Gardening about it. Worm castings are suppoesd to be great for the soil, and I'm sure my kids would love to raise some. The book shows how to build outdoor worm farm, but I found a link that tells you how to easily maintain one in a plastic tub. Even if you aren't interested in doing it yourself, it is a funny read. Just click here.

That's My Boy!

I've heard that boys tend to develop their motor skills later than girls, so I haven't had very high expectiations for Joe. Maybe that's why I am so impressed by the things he is learning to do.

Joe can blow bubbles. It took Finley quite a bit longer to direct her breath into the bubble wand and not blow too hard (or enough). I even noticed yesterday that he apparently was slowing his blowing down to try to make bigger bubbles, but that might have been just an accident on his part.

He has figured out how to pedal his tricycle. His legs have just recently grown long enough to reach, and when he realized they would, he would spend at least an hour at a time trying to pedal. At first, when he would turn the handlebars, his foot would slip off, and he would get pretty frustrated, but after two or three weeks of his self-imposed training, he's riding like an old pro.

Joe also has taught himself how to throw a frisbee. After Joe hit me in the head with an under-hand, indoor attempt, I tried to hide the frisbee in the garage. He found it, and as long as he threw it outside at a safe distance from my head, I was happy to let him entertain himself with it. After a few days, I was shocked to see that he was using the traditional form, and the frisbee would glide up to 20 feet on a good attempt.

I guess a lot of this can be attributed to his personality. The combination of a decent attention span (at 18 months, he amazed my mom by spending over a half an hour playing with her just stamping shapes on a Doodle-Pad), good observation skills, and determination allows him to learn things pretty quickly.

Here's Joe on his 'bike':

Clothesline

When we moved into our house, there were posts for a clothesline set up in the yard conveniently close to the back door. The lines themselves, I think, were long gone, and I replaced them with some scrap cat5e from work. Once the lines were up, they were strung (inconveniently) right over the little sidewalk to the garage. The threat of literally being clotheslined on the way to the garage, the fact that the posts were rusting out and in bad need of paint, and the other fact that I hated using the stiff towels that resulted from my mother hanging them to dry on the line when I was growing up, led us to take down the clothesline altogether.

Since then, I have learned (or remembered) a few things:
1. Less use of the dryer means less electrical costs.
2. If you dry the clothes for a few minutes first, they (supposedly) won't feel so crusty.
3. The sun is apparently a good bleaching agent, which might help me get rid of some of the stains that have accumulated in most of our white and light clothing. (It just is too much effort to treat and/or scrub every stain on every shirt twice a week.)

So, today I scrounged up some scrap fiber optic cable (it has tensile strength of over 100 lbs as opposed to the 20 or 30 that makes cat5e stretch), tied it between the stair railing and our Little Tykes slide, borrowed our neighbor's clothes pins (I do think I own some, I just don't know where they are), and put out some whites. Unfortunately, the sun isn't out in all its bright glory, so I don't think I'll get its full stain-removing effect this time around. Oh well.

A Few Pics

Reanna has been doing Finley's hair up in a bunch of little pony-tails. Very funny, especially when she runs and they are all bouncing around on her head.

Gotta love it when artificial colors stain your kids' skin.

The Spiritual Realm

I'm trying to figure out where to begin. I want to touch on some spiritual reality, but it is hard to know where to begin. Growing up in church, we read in the Bible about demons, and it never occurred to me (or anyone in that church, apparently) that this stuff was really real. Somehow, we decided to declare it a part of the past and nothing that really existed anymore (including the active role of angels and the Holy Spirit).

When I was about 13, I had a 'dream,' although it was no more a dream than getting hit in the head with a pipe is. My mind woke up from sleep (though my body didn't) into a realization that something was directing its attention toward me. And you know how sometimes, you can get a vibe about how people feel about you? This 'something' hated me. It was a hatred I had never felt before and didn't realize could be so pure. I had the desperate notion that I needed to hide from this thing that was seeing me in the dark, seeing my soul, and hating me. I could see nothing, but I could feel the presence of this thing, and I could hear my breathing and my heartbeat. I thought that if I could just be quiet, it wouldn't be able to see me anymore, so I stopped breathing, and tried to quiet my heart. My heart beat slower, and slower, until I would lose control of it, and it would begin to race. I tried to slow it down to a stop again, but when I almost had it stopped, it raced again. I don't know how long it was until I completely woke up and the thing was gone. I just remember being incredibly thankful afterward that God simply loved me. Thinking about the experience later in life, I have the feeling it was something demonic trying to get me to kill myself. (What happens when your heart stops beating?)

Not long after I moved here, I attended a 'revival' meeting (or was it 'renewal'...) with a friend. It was at a Four-Square church, which for the most part I would have categorized as those crazy, pentecostal types. The pastor didn't let me down. He looked a little like Al Gore, who, for some reason, is what I think Satan incarnate would look like. During his message, he took a long piece of PVC pipe that was being used as a flag's rod, and beat a silk ficus tree with it to illustrate his point about trials conditioning us into a stronger persons. As he beat the tree, pieces of plastic kept breaking off and flying about the room until he was left with only a stub of pipe.

After his message, he wanted to pray for people that wanted to 'see in the spirit,' meaning angels and whatnot. This was a little hard for me, the former Baptist, to accept. One kid went up to get prayer, and the pastor, seemingly getting frustrated that the kid couldn't see the 'obvious' angel in the corner of the room, smacked him full on in the chest, and the kid dropped instantaneously to the floor.

I paced the back of the room, debating with God whether or not it was necessary for anyone to see angels. I would rather 'see' more obscure things, like what people's motivations and feelings were and have that whole discernment thing. That would be more useful. So, was this guy legit? Couldn't he be one of those demons masquerading as an angel of light? I decided to 'test the spirit' of the thing as it were and go up for prayer, and I remember as I walked up that I felt like I was going to up there to challenge Satan.

As soon as the guy laid hands on me, he started shaking, then began to prophesy over me. His firsts words were, 'Not only will you see in the spirit, but you will be able to see into people's hearts...' and went on to speak many of the desires of my heart. I had started weeping at the first sentence.

I felt a little foolish afterward. I have to admit, I still categorize that church as one of the 'crazy, pentecostal' types, but that doesn't make it any less legitimate. Just crazy.

A friend who just moved away is looking for a church that believes in the reality of a powerful, benevolent, and active God. Our neighbors keep inviting us to their church, and while attending a place a couple blocks from home would be so nice, the denial (or at the least, ignorance) of that sort of spiritual reality is all too obvious there. It's not always convenient or pleasant, but I guess I like to see things as they really are...

The Way I Feel These Days

Attic Progress, Cont.

Chris laid the tile this weekend for the bathroom and vanity areas, and it looks nearly professional for a first-time job. Today, things were slow at work for Chris, so he was sent home. Although that isn't good for our bank account, I am choosing to see it as a blessing, as he is getting a lot more work done upstairs than he would otherwise. Today, he put up the baseboard in the bathroom, sealed the grout, and put the toilet back in. All we need is a shower curtain, (which I am determined to replace with a custom shower door at a later point) and the 'bathroom' is nearly finished, minus some touch-up paint.



I would show you the paint job in the main room, but we made a mistake and bought eggshell. Every imperfection glared out at us, so Chris touched up the mud in a few places, then went and bought some flat paint. I think we'll be much happier with the result. I'll post a photo after the re-paint. The main neutral color is called 'Tusk-Tusk,' which I guess is supposed to be reminiscent of ivory, though it's not so yellow. I also picked out a green that is suspiciously a lot like our kitchen color. I thought I was going to get something a bit darker than what it turned out to be on the walls. Though I really like the green, I'm feeling a little too green, and want to throw a muted purple into the mix. I'm just not sure where to put it.

Two Months vs. Two Days

A friend of mine is due in two days. Every couple of days, when I see that she has put up a new post, I keep hoping it might be a post from the hospital with a photo of a newly emerged baby. But no...

I have two months to go. I shouldn't be complaining yet. But I will. Just a little.

Inevitably, in the middle of the night about 3:30 am, I have to go to the bathroom. Usually, I am in the middle of a dream in which I end up realizing I need to find a bathroom, and there are none available. I wake up, and lie in groggy denial for a while before I hoist myself out of bed. Then I climb the stairs, walk through the kitchen and the hallway to the bathroom, keeping my eyes half shut in the hopes I won't really wake up that much. By the time I get back downstairs, and get resituated in bed, the baby wakes up and decides to poke around in there for a while. By the time she is quiet again, I am wide awake, and don't fall back asleep until just before Chris's alarm goes off at 5:15. Then Joe decides to wake up sometime between 5:15 and 6:00. Not nice.

Last night I decided to treat myself to a bath. I was only disturbed once. It made me want one of those deep, claw-foot tubs that looks so relaxing in the commercials. Somehow, these shallow, squarish ones always feel a little awkward. I sat back and poured warm water over the mound too big to be submerged, enjoying the buoyancy and weird feeling of less pressure on my back. Then I decided to stay in the tub while I let the water drain. As the water level dropped, I felt myself getting heavier, and heavier, ... and heavier... and I began to worry that I was stuck in the bottom of the tub and would have to yell for Chris to come pull me out. I have new sympathy for beached whales.

Living With 'Disappointment'

We have a date set. July 16th is the day that our littlest will be extracted from my womb.

I have a few friends that seem to be made for giving birth. A year ago, I was on call for a friend of mine that was having a home birth. She called around 3 am to say that she might need me to watch her son, because she thought she was in labor. Around 6 am, Chris talked to her, and she said she thought the baby might be coming soon, but her son was still asleep. We hadn't heard anything by 8 am, so called, and she had had the perfect delivery while her son slept through the whole thing. That seems like the way God intended birth to be... you know, before the fall and all that...

I, on the other hand, haven't been made that way. Even a modest 6 1/2 pound baby rips me up. I wish I could experience a natural birth, and as I lie in bed at night, wonder if there is any way that would be possible. But apart from some incredible miracle, it just doesn't add up for me (or the baby). I have to live with that disappointment.

Joe seems to have a minor peanut allergy. I'm praying it doesn't get worse, as some kids seem to develop it after two years of age. Along with the 'asthma' problems he is having (which I am praying he grows out of), these health issues make me a little angry.

Then perspective kicks in. I often wonder how I would deal with greater loss.

Some good friends of ours (the Baggetts) are veterans in the department of great loss. They lost their daughter to leukemia after a six year battle, while the wife went through two liver transplants. They fought for healing, both medically and in faith that God could heal miraculously. (And those that would say 'they didn't have enough faith,' well, I pity you.) The husband lost his job, and is now self-employed. Like Job, in spite of loss, I have seen them continue to walk closely with God, without anger and with great peace.

I have heard a quote that says something to effect that 'anger never helps a situation.'

God has been talking to me about redemption a lot. All things work together for good. He is capable of redeeming even the ugliest situations if we let him. What a beautiful thing. In the midst of trial, we can have hope that God will use it for good, both for us and for others. It is amazing how much God has used the Baggetts' situations to bring healing, peace, and hope to countless others. To get into it would be to start writing an encyclopedia.

So, in light of my minor disappointments, there are things to be thankful for. I am thankful that my parents will be able to fly down just ahead of the birth of #3 and be able to stay a few weeks after to help out. They nearly missed Finley, as she was early. With Joe, I was convinced he would come early, so my folks came early and had to wait nearly two weeks (Or was it longer? Sorry, mom.) for his arrival. And I am convinced than healing from this c-section will be a lot easier that healing from the alternative.

I am also thankful I have yet to face any major trials. Seeing how I have to struggle through these minor issues, I'm not sure how I would hold up under bigger ones.

Garden Update

Last week, I decided to quit moping over my failure of a garden and do something to salvage it. I dug up all the starts of washed-out lettuce that came up in all their random places, and replanted them into nice little rows. I started to put down some leaves from the compost bin in the hopes that will keep the weeds down a bit. I replaced one of my tomato plants that had been nibbled to its stalk by some unknown creature (and I have one more back-up in case another gets eaten). I also planted some carrot seed, in spite of my fear that I was starting them too late, and am seeing little, green, cotelydon, carrot hairs poke through the soil.

I had ordered some blue corn seed that was supposed to be good eating off the cob, but they cancelled the order on me, citing low germination rates. However, my mother sent me some Mandan corn that she grew from seed given to her by her cousin. I am excited that I got a replacement, and can't wait to try it.

I should be outside planting my cucumbers, hoeing up the already-prolific weeds, and putting down more leaves while Joe is napping, but figured I'd take a minute to relax in the cool of our basement (as it is already 80+F here) and show off my lettuce.

Opinons, Please

Now that the mudding of the drywall is well underway, painting time is coming nigh. Chris and I are in disagreement as to how to paint this lovely new space of ours. Thankfully, we have yet to come to blows over the matter. I would like to ask for your opinions.

This view shows the "closets" and the stairs. (We are planning on finding some vintage doors that match the rest of the doors in the house and hanging them as sliding doors for the closets. A dresser will sit between the two closets.)

The main debate we are having is: do we paint the both the ceiling and the slants white, or bring color up higher? The side walls are only 5 feet high, and I am concerned that painting the slants white will make the room look 'short'. Chris thinks that if we paint the slants a color, it will make the room look 'smaller'. I would love to have a darker color on the bottom, a mid tone on the slants, and the lightest color on the ceiling, but maybe that is asking too much of my hard-working husband, and would be difficult to pull off, since there aren't the sharp, straight lines to follow on our gimpy ceiling that would make that look great. We also could just do a really light neutral color for the whole thing, and/or maybe throw some color up on the sides of the closets and end walls for some variance...

Anyway, I would love some input. I'm supposed to decide by the time he has it all primed, which gives me about a week...

Happy Things

1. I cut a few iris flowers to grace the kitchen window. Every time the wind blows through the window, it carries the sweet fragrance of iris in with it.

2. Last night, Joe leaned across the table, patted my head, and said, 'Pu-heh?'
Not understanding exactly what he said, I replied, 'Yes, hair.' So he pulled my hair.
'Ouch!' I said, 'No, Joe, No!'
'Sorry, Mom, sorry,' he said and gave me a kiss.

3. Chris was telling me about his friends and their kids who eat whatever and whenever they like and never sit down as a family to eat supper. If they are in the car, and one of them asks for McDonald's, they pull over and get whatever the child wants. The little boy's favorite food is McNuggets. Finley interrupted the conversation, asking, 'Do you know the McDonald song? I do!' Chris and I looked at each other in confusion until she started singing, 'Old McDonald had a farm...'

4. Coffee. During the first trimester, my body rejected coffee. It didn't taste very good to me, and I felt awful if I tried to drink it. Thankfully, I am over that phase, and sucking down a cup or three in the mornings is one of my favorite things once more.