Overheard

I just heard Finley singing in all her tone-deaf gloriousness:

"Oh Brother, oh Brother
Don't you like a hugger?
But if you don't like it
Just push me away"

Hansel & Gretel, eat your hearts out.

Hmmmm.

Finley and Joe have been sitting at the kitchen table for 20 minutes or so, pretending that a set of candy canes is a family. The parents have taken babies to the doctor, others have fallen off cliffs, and who knows what all.

Who needs toys?

Quilt Block

I have a series of paintings that I've stalled on, a picnic blanket (made out of old jeans) that I haven't finished, and who knows what else waiting in the corners for completion. So what have I done? I've started another project. Since painting by myself at night isn't much fun but spending time with Chris while working on the quilt is (sort of) feasible, coupled with the fact that Finley's feet are almost to the end of her toddler bed... They are all good excuses to start something new. I just hope I finish this before spring.

Being quite the amateur quilt-maker, I've already made a mistake or two. I found this pattern online, and since it didn't give me cutting dimensions, I had to figure it out on my own. My triangle squares turned out smaller than I calculated, so I'm worried that, left alone, some of the seams will pull apart at soon as the fabric edges start to fray. I'm hoping some extra stitching will keep the fraying in check.

I also didn't have as many receiving blankets as I thought, so I'm hoping I can find some flannel in the right colors at the store. I can already tell, I'm going to need some encouragement to see this project to completion.

Daddy Gets No Love

A Cup of Joe

I have one of the sweetest little boys on the planet, and he knows just how to tug on my heart strings.

Ever since I got my new (oh, so wonderful) coffee cup, Joe has gotten into the habit of getting the step stool from the bathroom, taking it to the kitchen, finding my cup, filling it up with (cold) coffee (all this without my knowledge... or permission), and bringing it to me (carefully), saying with the sweetest smile on his face, "Mom, I brought you some coffee!"

I am wondering what percentage of kids bite the cards in the Candy Land game. I know I did when I was little.

It gave me a big smile when we broke the game out the other day and several of the cards were bitten.

Soup Update

Chris got home about two, pulled a homemade granola bar out of the fridge, and started carrying on about how good it was, and I started making candy-coated pretzels.

Under the pressure, Finley buckled down, and ate her soup. Halfway through the bowl, she asked me to make more tomorrow night.

!?!?!

Walkin' and Talkin'

Zivah got clearance to go without her brace the end of October. We started intense training in the evenings, forcing her to walk a few steps between us. Although she seemed to have fairly good balance, she rarely took a step without something to hold onto. Finally, this past week, she gained some confidence, and has been walkin' up a storm.

Soup's On...

I've been lacking in the culinary department lately and have made a bad habit of fixing the kids things I know they want to eat. In other words, a lot of junk food.

Finley and Joe have also been battling colds in some form or other for several weeks, so blaming it on all the the extra sugar and non-healthy food the kids have been ingesting (and on myself), I whipped up a big pot of soup for supper last night: my version of minestrone.

Zivah sucked it down. Joe ate all of it with only minor bribery. Finley decided she would rather *ahem* save it for breakfast.

This morning, Finley decided she would save it for lunch. She is going to her enrichment classes this morning and won't get home until noon. I am hoping she will be ravenously hungry, get over this little stubborn trip, and eat.

An Early Christmas Gift

Upon hearing about the loss of my coffee mug a few weeks ago, a friend of mine sent me a link to some potential 'replacement' cups, and offered to buy one for me. In my browsing, I found this one.

It arrived today. Coffee happiness returning. Mourning turning into dancing.

Thanks, Al.

Nice Frost This Morning...

Looks pretty. (Especially up close.)

Wonder if this will be as close as we get to snow this year again.

On The Moral Education of My Little Trees

I just finished reading another Newbery book: A Gathering of Days by Joan Blos. I am compiling a list of books I hope my kids will pick up and read some day. (I plan to have most of them in my personal library.) Is it Charlotte Mason who teaches that, through stories, a child empathizes with the characters and thereby is helped to build character and learn life's lessons?

One of the things that jumped out at me from this read was that, back in the day, children were actively taught moral education. In one scene in the book a young girl is being drilled on the definitions of justice, generosity, and gratitude. These days, it seems character education is an afterthought in the school, reintroduced probably due to the overall lack of character in the students. (I don't remember any such focus when I was in public school.)

Yesterday, I was listening to an interview on NPR, and the theme was centered around the pursuit of one's dreams. The interviewee, a mother and career woman, was, at one point, describing the guilt she felt trying to balance her career and motherhood, resentment oozing at the fact that her husband rarely, if ever, left work to care for a sick child. Not to imply that men should never be primary caregivers... But I sensed a selfish undertone. Is this the message society is giving to our children: to pursue your dreams no matter what? I see a reflection of the spoiled child who seems to think they should get whatever they want right now.

Although I desperately want my children to pursue and fulfill the dreams of their hearts, I also want them to understand the value of sacrifice. I want them to have the discernment to see the difference between needs and wants, to be able to determine priorities, and to understand that, frequently, the greatest fulfillment comes from putting the needs of others before your own.

Although I may not get around to teaching specifically the 'Moral Catechism' I am preparing my reading list.

It's Gone.

My coffee mug. The one I've had for years.

I left it outside on the grill. Chris kicked a ball....

He came inside, apologies and blame-shifting words tripping out of his mouth.
A simple "I'm sorry" and some space would have been better.

Later, as I stared at the shards in the trash, trying to think of some use for the broken, painted flowers,
Finley said, "Mom, I know you liked your cup. But you can find another one you'll like."

Where have I heard those words before?

NASCAR

The thing about having kids is that you end up paying attention to things you probably never would have otherwise.

We love Pixar movies. We loved Cars. Joe loved Cars. We ended up with a fleet of Cars cars. So it wasn't a big surprise when, one day, Chris happened upon a real NASCAR race on TV this past spring and Joe begged to watch it. April in Talledega. One big (scary) crash. Jimmie Johnson wins. Result: One three-year-old Jimmie Johnson fan.

It doesn't matter where we go. If Joe sees a Lowe's or a 4 anywhere on a sign, he asks if that is Jimmie Johnson. On Sundays, when we are trying to watch a football game, Joe is begging to watch racing.

My respect for sports is growing. Before I paid attention, I thought football was guys piling up on each other down after down with a few passes here and there. I am just beginning to understand the strategy and thought that goes into it all. Good football players are smart. Racing is not just a car tearing around the track...

I still wonder sometimes how it is we can spend so much money just for the sake of winning and entertainment, but regardless, I'm letting myself get sucked in. A few weeks ago, when the 48 car got tangled up in a crash on the third lap, well... I guess I'll admit there is more than just one NASCAR fan in the house.

Midweek Update

Some things are very predictable. Nearly every time we drive through the neighborhood to our house, I hit a certain tree branch with the windshield of the van. Every single time, Joe says, "What was that?"

Some things should be predictable. I let Finley make her sandwich today. I did not watch over her shoulder. Halfway through spreading the jam, she told me she had been licking the knife after every swipe.

Some things are not predictable. There hasn't been much non-predictableness lately.

Above is another abstract of Finley's, inspired by the new box of crayons.

Last week, the weather was beautiful, so I took advantage of it and built three raised-bed frames out of some old treated lumber we had lying around. Then I borrowed the neighbor's mower, mowed up some leaves, and dug them into the soil in the boxes I placed in the garden. This was after I meticulously dug up and pulled out all the Bermuda grass from the area the far box is sitting on. I topped the boxes off with more shredded leaves to prevent any weed seeds from sprouting over the winter as they are prone to do here in the south. I still have some lettuce growing, and should probably eat some salad before it freezes.

We also borrowed the neighbor's tiller and tilled up the rest of the garden and reseeded it with some rye grass. If we put the house on the market, I want there to be a small, nice, manageable garden... not an overwhelming trash plot.

The weather is starting to turn chilly. Maybe I can get some artwork done if we are forced inside. I have some ideas bouncing around in my head. It would be nice to have a chance to get them out...

Paper, Crayons, Finley...

My kids have great distrust when it comes to dogs. They have also picked up on Chris's dislike of doggie poo in the yard. Finley decided to make a sign for the front door to make it clear to the neighbors that there are to be (translation) No dogs in our yard.

Fin came down with a cold this week, so we have stayed home all week. This, combined with paper and a new box of crayons made for a lot of pictures. Here are two I was especially fond of:

Jane, our rabbit

(complete with small black spots in her fur)

and a cow.

I should have taken some pictures of some of her more colorful (and typical) work. Perhaps I will post more later.

Now that she is over most of the cold and only a cough remains, I think she is hungry for the company of others. She made this sign this morning:

(translation) Come to Fin's house if you have a kid.

I love how she is trying to sound out words. I think I'll worry about spelling later.

The Search Continues

One thing I'm learning about myself is that I give up too easily. Being the realist that I am, I see negatives and difficulties very clearly and tend to shut myself down as a result. I'm trying to overcome that tendency.

Just when I was starting to re-examine all the difficulties of selling the house, downsizing, and sacrificing for this crazy dream we have, and wondering if we should just stick in out in Nashville until the kids are grown, Kevin and Norm from This Old House were on a talk show on NPR. Some guy called in to say that he and his wife had built their dream-home from scratch, debt-free, buying supplies with any extra money they had after paying the bills and feeding themselves. He credited TOH with giving him some of the confidence he had to tackle such an endeavor. I was re-inspired. As Bob the Builder says: "Can we do it? YES WE CAN!"

So last Wednesday, we drove down toward Chapel Hill to look at a piece of property that Chris had seen online and was obsessed with. It was a forty acre property with a house, a trailer, and some storage buildings not pictured on the listing. This turned out to be another one that looked a lot better online than in reality... The house was a natural fun-house with sloping floors, a maze-like layout, ridiculous paint colors, and the terrible smell of mildew. The trailer wasn't in much better shape. The walls of the barn had lost most of its boards. The previous owners had deposited large piles of trash throughout the property. Thirty of the forty acres was tremendously rocky; and not much can grow on a rock.

But it was beautiful. The wooded acres were beautiful. Moss on the rocks were bright and beautiful. The leaves were changing. I could see potential in the grown-up pasture.

I found myself looking at the falling-down barn, and imagined re-locating the solid, round cedar posts into the house we would build back from the road and salvaging the barn boards for weathered looking cabinets. The hardwood floors in the house could be re-used. The mounds of trash could be hauled away...

So although we (thankfully) aren't scrambling to sell this house to snatch up this particular piece of land, it would be a possibility if the time and price was right... I can't wait to see what happens when the time is right.

Midweek Update

Took Z to the doctor today to get another x-ray of her hips. Things are looking good, so she will only be wearing the brace at night. What a relief.

While at the appointment, Finley and Joe got to pick out some token toys while Z got her x-ray. Joe ended up with a small 'bouncy ball.' Later, while the doc was reviewing the x-ray, Joe stowed the ball in his jacket pocket. When we were getting ready to leave, Finley asked him where his ball was. "Right behind here," he said as he pointed to his crotch.

Finishing up lunch, Finley asked me what 10 plus 10 plus 10 was. I held up three fingers and had her count by tens with me to thirty. Then she held up four fingers. "Do you know what four 10's is?" She asked rhetorically. "40! Do you know what six 10's is? 60!" The kid is multiplying and doesn't even know it.

Weekend Update 10/26

For those of you wondering, the pigeon is gone. We saw it for the last time last Monday or Tuesday. This was right after Finley named it 'Sarah'. Perhaps it didn't like the name. Chris was incredibly disappointed when it didn't come back. He keeps talking about it. He might need therapy.

In other news, Chris painted our back porch this weekend...

and Jane was moved into her new, larger hutch that we found on craigslist for a really good price. I also built a little hide-away for her like the ones I saw at a pet store but could not imagine paying $20 for.

Last night, we had another little driveway campfire. The kids didn't bother to really toast the marshmallows, as you can see.

That got me thinking about going on a 'real' camping trip with them. I had visions of me trekking through the woods with the pack, Finley and Joe running ahead, stopping every now and again to soak in the beauty of nature. Surely the three of us could fit in a two man tent. But then I got stuck. They don't have nice, lightweight, 20 degree sleeping bags. If we do go camping, I guess we'd have to settle for one of those close-to-the-parking-lot sort of places. Oh, well.

Joe woke up from a nap the other day and wandered into the kitchen. "Mom?" he said in his still-groggy voice.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"I love you, but, Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Where's Fin?"

Being a mother to a son like Joe is very funny to me. I am here for him to hug and kiss on. Dad is here for him to wrestle and beat on. Joe was so desperate to help us this weekend, that Chris outfitted him with my old DeWalt 12 volt drill. He carries it around like a machine gun. He helped me screw Jane's hide-away together, but still wanted to drill something, so we let him 'drill' holes in an old piece of drywall.

Finley is in that stage where she automatically puts -ed on the end of all verbs to make them past tense. I can't wait until she gets the hang of irregular verbs. My mom sent a few bags of craft popsicle sticks to us a few weeks ago. This has kept Finley very busy gluing them together. I would take a picture of one of her creations, but the camera battery is dead. To her dismay, she ran out of glue this morning. We may need to make an emergency trip the the store.

Thursday, I take Zivah in to get another x-ray of her hips. I'm hoping things will look okay. She's been babbling a lot, but still not many recognizable words. Figured out how to say 'ball'. I think she's tried to say 'Joe'. My favorite, though, is when she sees you for the first time in a while, lights up, and says 'hi!' in her sweet, airy voice. She has mastered the stairs, and I'm quite thankful that she is one of those cautious, sensible toddlers. Once at the top of the stairs, she always crawls forward until she is a safe distance away before she sits down and approaches the top with caution before turning around to back down.

I had better stop rambling at get to the laundry. (groan)

Pigeon Update

Chris mowed the lawn yesterday afternoon, and a search of the yard this morning did not reveal any pigeons.

However...

this afternoon, it returned. And Chris wanted to feed it. So he did.

Now what?

The Pigeon and Jane

Well, the pigeon snuck into Jane's cage while we were out in the yard with Jane. I don't know if the two really are friends, or if Jane was upset that the pigeon might be eating her food. She hopped right on into her cage and went right up to the pigeon and...When it looked like Jane might possibly be trying to gnaw the bird's eye out, I snatched her back out. Thankfully, the bird finally exited the cage on her own, and is in the back yard. I have closed the doors to prevent any further incident.


After a little online research, I matched the bird's tag number to some guy in Louisville, KY and sent him an email to let him know what the pigeon was up to.

A Random Visitor

We found this homing pigeon hanging out on our back porch when we got home from running errands this morning.
Apparently Jane has friends we don't know about. Or maybe some one was trying to send me a message. Or (most likely) the bird just got really confused.

Zivah and Jane

By request, here is a picture of Zivah crawling into the rabbit's cage. She didn't crawl all the way in this time, probably since Jane was in there. But she did steal more food.

Z absolutely loves Jane and lights up every time she sees her.

The Most Wonderful Coffee Cup in the Whole Wide World

I just spent at least a half an hour wandering aimlessly through the house searching in quiet desperation for my coffee cup. It was in none of the usual places. Could my children have played some sick joke on me? Did it slip through a worm hole into another dimension? On a day like today, I was feeling absolutely and completely lost without it (as was evident from my room to room meanderings).

Thankfully, I finally found it in the microwave where it was waiting patiently for me to remember that I had already poured some more coffee.

It has been with me for over a decade. I still remember finding it on a shelf in a Salvation Army Store in Omaha. It was fifty cents, possibly the best fifty cents I've ever spent.

WWF Champ

About a month ago, in one of those father/son moments that I have no control over, Chris introduced Joe to wrestling. (groan) New rules are in place to prevent Joe from attacking Chris out of the blue in an attempt to start an unscheduled match.

On Tuesday, while I was taking Finley to dance class, Chris made Joe a 'House Wrestling Champion' belt.

Missed Opportunity

I had Jane (the rabbit) out grazing in the back yard, and decided it was time to put her back in her hutch. I put Z down on the floor in the porch where the hutch is located and went out to get Jane.

Finley grabbed Jane, and as we headed back onto the porch, there was Z sitting in the hutch, stealing a carrot from Jane's food bowl.

Why didn't I run inside and grab the camera before easing her back out of the 8 by 8 inch hole she crawled though, I don't know. I'm kicking myself now.

A Southern Gardening Tip

Never, never, never, never, never let your husband till up the burmuda grass then 'just rake it out' for an 'easier' way to prepare more ground for a garden.

I knew it was a bad idea. You see, half of the way burmuda propagates is by runners through the soil, and one teeny bit of runner can produce a new plant. So when Chris decided to 'help' me in the expansion of our garden plot this spring and ended up tilling all that burmuda grass into the soil, my stomach sank, and I was tempted to not speak to him for a week. However, knowing that it would have taken me half the summer to dig up and shake out all the soil from all of that grass, I bit my tongue and prayed that I was wrong and he was right.

Well, it turns out I was right. A few weeks ago, I successfully weeded the old section of the garden fairly easily and even planted some fall crops. Then when I went back a few days ago to tackle the new section and found that the roots and runners of the weed grass were so networked deep into the soil, I threw up my hands in despair and called it quits.

I've decided we are going to till up the new section, smooth it out and let the burmuda take it back as lawn territory. I figure if we put the house on the market, having a weedy garden plot in the back yard would not be a selling point. And next time I want to start a garden plot on virgin soil, we are going to do it my way: slow and steady wins the race in the long run.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Daydreaming

Lately, I've been daydreaming.

The probability of finding the perfect old farm in the country for the price we would want to pay is probably slim to none. More likely is a fairly raw piece of property on which we plop a trailer if it doesn't already have one. And then we build.

So I've been daydreaming about what it is we could build. I've been making a list of all the features our new house would have.

One of the first things on my list is a large greenhouse/sun room on the south side of the house. A room in which I could bask in the warm sun during the winter and where I could leave my house plants in one place all year long.

A one car garage off the kitchen will make carrying groceries in convenient and running through the rain a non-issue.

There will be a wood stove or two.

I'm envisioning built-in bookshelves and curious nooks and crannies.

Next, the master bath will have two sinks so that I won't have to a) peer through Chris's toothpaste splatter or b) clean his toothpaste splatter all the time. (Not that I do now.)

The kids will have built in loft beds. Chris and I would, too, but I'm afraid we wouldn't have the energy to climb up into it after a long day's work in the gardens. At least we can build a frame out of 2x4's so that the bed doesn't move when he turns over at night.

There will be a urinal for Chris and Joe. Hopefully that will limit the amount of drippage needed to be cleaned off the bathroom floors.

A separate building out back will have convenient access to all my gardening supplies, and there will be a second story with large windows for the art studio (if the art room is not in the house) .

I want a tower. One where I can climb up and see the lightning in the sky no matter what direction it is in. I also would like a small shelter on top of a hill in which I could camp dry and snug in the middle of a downpour.

The kids (and I) will have a killer tree house/fort to which a very fast and long zip line will be attached.

The house will have lots of windows that let in lots of light and a sink next to the washing machine.

And I can't forget the porch...

Finley Quotes of the Day

"If there was nothing, who made God?"

Then a minute later:
"Dad, I wish the Titans get 89 and 100."

F: What's for supper?
Me: Pasta.
F: Pasta? Yum! But don't forget. Don't put any of that cow in it."

Showing Off Those Teeth

Rainy Day

Introducing... Jane the Rabbit

Finley made me promise when we were harvesting carrots that I would save hers for the rabbit.
We didn't have a rabbit, nor was I thinking about getting one.
But the Baggetts had a rabbit, so I told her we could save them for a rabbit.
Turns out the Baggetts got another rabbit or two, then ended up with babies.
So we brought one home yesterday.
See Jane.
If you come over, you can see Jane hop.

Tuning Your Antennae

Watched a documentary called For an Audience of One the other night. It made me groan and cringe. In short, it was about a pentecostal preacher that believed God called him to start a cutting edge movie company. I won't go into detail, but the first thing that was glaringly obvious to me was that he wasn't willing to admit that he might be wrong. And no one was willing to point that out to him. In a paraphrase from one of his congregants, it was obvious that he was sometimes wrong about things, but it was better to leave it alone and let God correct him. Scary.

Anyway, that got me thinking about something I've been thinking about. What I like to think of 'spiritual antennae'. I sat next to a guy on a plane once, that at first glance, thought was a biker. He turned out to be much more interesting than that. I can't remember exactly how he put it, but he was being harassed in his stream of consciousness by people and/or spirits that didn't like him, and he couldn't keep them out of his head. Paranoid schizophrenic or clairvoyant? I won't be the judge, but I wish I knew at the time to tell him that there was hope of blocking that station, so to speak.

Most of the time, we have our antennae turned only to receive our own station. A radio program that is all about self. I have met people that are really good at tuning into something else...

There was a guy named Andy that went to the church we used to go to. He liked to talk about the Holy Spirit as being something like the Easter bunny. The Easter bunny hides eggs for us to find, and these eggs are like little missions of love for other people. I have a good example of what he meant... When I was in college, I went through a rough patch. I remember sitting on the bottom floor of the science building early in the morning, trying to catch up on some work before class started, feeling depressed and lonely. The building was usually deserted at that hour. Andy, who was in the habit of walking the campus and praying in the mornings, got what he would call a little nudge from the Holy Spirit, the random thought to enter the basement of the science building. He had no idea I would be there, but because he was listening, I received some much-needed encouragement.

If God is love, then isn't that good news? Instead of being grumpy people that get upset about every little 'injustice' done to us, wouldn't it be more fun to try to spread some happiness? I've been trying to re-tune myself and be on the lookout. Instead of being upset at the non-attentive cashier, I am trying to be the one that smiles and is thankful (in spite of my unruly children). And I'm trying to remember to be on the lookout for Easter eggs.

Tying this train of thought into the documentary I mentioned at the beginning, it just seems that it is too easy to get wrapped up in what you think might be the 'call of God' for your life, when the most obvious call is to love your neighbor as yourself. Anything else that detracts from that most likely is not 'of God'.

Speaking of Collage...

After checking out the pathetic art sections that came with some of the traditional home school curriculums (envision 'cut out pre-drawn shape and glue to tongue depressor'), I bought a book called Artistic Pursuits. Once a week, you read the lesson that discusses a certain aspect of visual art, such as composition. Then you look at a picture of a masterpiece and talk about that work of art and how the discussed aspect is incorporated in that piece. The student then uses 'real' materials to create her own piece that relates to the lesson.

This week was about composition and using subjects from real life in your art. We learned about the Ebony pencil and the different ways to use it. This is what Finley came up with:

Flowers from my garden and Finley's hands holding a dirty worm. She took extra care to make sure she had five fingers on each hand.

Finley Quotes of the Day

"Hey, Mom, did you know that a collage is French?"

"When I am very old, you'll be dead." (smiles and covers her mouth with her hand)

Last week, I took the kids to the downtown library for story time. If you arrive at the library before it opens, there is usually a crowd of people that are homeless, waiting to get inside. The library is a great place for them to read, use the public computers, or go to the bathroom and freshen up a bit for the day.

There was an older man (obviously homeless) ahead of us as we were heading out the back doors to the parking garage. He was about to pass through the detectors, when a couple of kids bolted through on their way in. Their grandmother, glanced over at the man as she followed the kids, then as soon as she was past him, pulled her shoulders up and shivered, in that 'oooo, gross!' manner.

It made me sad. More often than not, it is the homeless person that holds the elevator or is ready with a smile for me and my kids... But then I wondered how often I shudder on the inside when I encounter someone I don't understand and judge them... More than I'd like to admit.

I'm beginning to see more clearly how our attitudes, actions, and speech devalue human life.

Gardening

Every once in a while, something comes along that reminds you of your destiny, the person you were made to be, the things you are meant to do with your life.

Driving home from the library, I turned on the radio. WPLN's AM station came on with its constant buzz, and filtering out the noise of the kids in the back seat, I could hear a discussion on gardening. Tom Ashbrook and guest speaker Robert Harrison were talking about gardens. I caught the tail end of a poem (I think) about a gardener that insisted on showing his visitor his flowers, then got caught up in pulling weeds and transplanting a crowded aster before the visitor finally decided to leave. The program went on to discuss gardens being 'pockets of Eden' and how they bring healing and peace. I couldn't stop the emotion welling up inside.

I remember Rilke writing to a young author that a true poet can't help but write; trying not to would be the death of him. I am compelled to garden.

On my trip a few weeks ago to the Seed Savers Exchange, they had a garden in front of the main barn: raised beds in a geometric pattern, bamboo supports of beans and peas intermingled with flowers. Visiting different places gives me vision for my future gardens, just as enjoying another's work of art or literature gives me vision for the things I will create and write in the future.

When thinking about moving, I have been obsessing about how to take my shrubs and flowers with me. I have been scheming about the best ways to get starts of them all before we have to put the house on the market. Packets of vegetable and flower seed I have saved are tucked in random places throughout the house. I dream about the gardens I will have at the new place.

A seventy-year-old woman called in to the radio program. She had planted eleven gardens in her lifetime, leaving a trail of flowers behind as she moved on through life. She talked about how gardening brought her closer to the Creator, her secret garden turned sacred.

Weekend Update and Other Ramblings 8/24

Things I am thankful for today: toilet paper, indoor plumbing, steaming showers, and a baby that naps in the morning.


We have all come down with a cold. Z is constantly smearing snot all over her face. Finley was up last night coughing until I drugged her. Joe is on the tail end of his cold. Thankfully, the wheezing and labored breathing was restricted to Thursday. I am waiting for the pressure in my sinuses to subside.

I finally found the birth pictures of zivah that Chris took in the hospital. It is amazing how such an ugly little thing can turn out to be cute.



I took a look through the pictures of my aunt and uncle's vacation this morning. I couldn't help but wonder why I am not living in the spacious beauty of Montana. (I know. The answer is obvious.)

We (mostly Chris) finished painting the kids room this weekend, so we moved them back in yesterday. Last night, we put all three kids to bed in the room at the same time... and it worked! I was expecting lots of screaming, laughing, and toy-throwing with the addition of Zivah in the room, but Z went right to sleep, and the older two eventually followed suit. Now I am hoping to get the other room set up as an office/school/play room.

Reanna has been in school for three weeks, and has been enjoying it so far. Last year, we hardly touched language and only made it through half of the math book. She had to take a placement test at the school, and they said she was well above where she needed to be for eighth grade. She is taking algebra. Either Reanna learned a whole lot more than I thought under what I considered a less-than-ideal homeschooling experience or the public school system really isn't that great (or both)! Regardless, I'm very proud of her!

Today, I was trying to get the kids to weed out some toys. Joe wanted to get rid of a little, cartoony semi-truck. Finley said, 'But Joe, it's purple!'

Every once in a while, it's nice to discover something that Chris and I are actually excited about together. Usually, we have similar goals, but for different reasons, or different ideas about how and to go about it. Moving out of the city is a good example. His focus is 'getting out of the city'. Mine focus is more on having the space I want to garden and have animals. Although we have similar ideas of what our dream house would be like, he wants to build a new house, while I would rather renovate. There is one thing we both agree upon. Someday, we must have Buff Laced Polish chickens:

More Kid TV

Zivah has been taking driving lessons from Joe.

Some Kid TV

Iowa

Three days back from Iowa, and I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. What do I do when there is a to-do list a mile long? I ignore the list and blog.




Here is an overview of my time in Iowa:

-Woke up before the alarm on the day of my departure.

-Flew to Omaha.

-Played grocery store with Isaac while we waited to pick up rental.

-Picked up rental. Al decided to try out a Mini Cooper for our trip.

-Met Dale for lunch.

-Drove to Missouri Valley, Iowa to see Monica. (She has a nice little garden stand on the main road through town. Stop in and buy something if you ever get the chance.)

-Drove to Iowa City. Took a ridiculous amount of photos of wind farms on the way.

-Checked into overflow Ronald McDonald House room at Travel Lodge. Creepy bear motif. Low beds.

-Ate and drank (Newcastle) at the Sanctuary pub in Iowa City.

-Next morning, drove to Amana. Surreal place with slight cultish feel. [Wiki History] Went into bakery to ask about the arts festival. "It's quite the thing," the baker lady told us. Bought a loaf of bread out of a feeling of obligation. Arrived early to find about 20 vendors setting up shop. Spent an hour browsing and making purchases, then went for lunch. Ate some of the best green beans I've ever had in my life. Spent another hour or two wandering shops. (It is a nice place to visit.)

-Drove out toward Decorah. Stopped random places for photos, including the train depot in Independence, a church in El Dorado, and the little church in Festina.

-Checked into the dumpy 'Bluff Inn and Resort' in Decorah. (Named such because you'll have to resort to that place if no other hotel have vacancies, I presume.)

-Went to eat. Found nice, old downtown area. Inquired about movies and dining at nice hotel. Dined. Walked, then headed back to the inn for a swim. After Alicia discovered the empty, creepy pool, decided it wasn't worth the money, and got a refund. Checked into ridiculously nice downtown Hotel Winneshiek for $10 more.

-Next morning, drove to Seed Savers. Ooh-ed and aah-ed at the gardens and visitors' center. Gave ourselves a nice, quiet walking tour as it was Sunday and no one was around.

-Stopped at Bily Clocks museum in Spillville. The lady started the tour without us, and after standing patiently for 10 minutes, realized it wasn't as interesting as I thought it would be, and skipped out on the rest of the tour. (This is where I took the picture of the two-headed pig.)

-Got caught in an intense storm just north of Des Moines. Took refuge for a bit in a Target. Drove the rest of the way back to Omaha under crazy clouds and lightning. Took more pictures of wind farms backed by sunset.

-Flew out the next morning. Came back feeling refreshed.

Once again, for pictures we took, click here.

A little video of Joe showing off.

Click Here.

Hip Update

I realized I haven't explained why Z is in a brace again. At birth, due to her severe breech postion, she developed hip dysplasia, and wore a Pavlik harness for several months. After a week, the hip had tightened up, and at three months, everything looked great.

Above is an x-ray of a messed up hip (not Zivah's). The little balls at the top of the leg bones are the femur heads developing. The one on your right looks fairly normal, the one on the left is way out of socket. Looking at the xray, the doc first checks for symmetry. Then he draws a horizontal line all the way across where the gaps are in the pelvis next to the femur heads. Then he draws a line tracing the angle of the pelvis bone up away from the gap (the hip socket region). He measures this angle. Ideally, the angle should be less than 30 degrees. Then he draws a line down from the edge where the end of that angle of bone is. The femur head should not be developing outside of that vertical line.

At seven months, Zivah hips were very symmetrical, the angles measured 21-22 degrees, and everything looked good. I almost didn't go back to the specialist at 12 months, since she was crawling like a champ and making her way toward walking. Thankfully, our pediatrician warned up that sometimes, the hips loosen back up, and it would be wise to check on them.

Z's hips still looked very symmetrical, but the angle had widened out to 27-28 degrees, and it looked like the femur heads were starting to slide out of that little triangle. The doc said everything was still okay, but since it didn't look quite as good as before, he didn't want to risk leaving it untreated, only to regret it later down the road. Better to be safe than sorry. Three months in the brace for most of the time, then three months only at night...

Thankfully, she isn't as tippy as she I thought she'd be, and she is figuring out how to move around a little. Not so happy, though...

I know you all are eagerly awaiting a minute by minute narrative of the trip to Iowa. (Which you may never get.)

I'll try to at least get a general overview written within the week.

For now, you will have to satisfy yourself glancing through the photos we took. (Minus the double-headed pig in formaldehyde. Alicia wasn't so fond of that.)

Today I took Z in to get her brace. The next three months will not be so fun. Last night, she was tromping (with the aid of my fingers), in a freshly-washed, naked body, through the house, so excited and proud of herself, she was laughing (heh-heh-heh)... Today, she can't sit without falling over in a matter of seconds. I hope she has a good, long nap.

1st Pumpkin

Iowa, Here I Come!

The last few weeks have been a scramble. Finishing out a room in the basement for Reanna, repainting her old one upstairs. (It took four coats to cover the blue on the walls.) Took Zivah in to check on her hips... Turns out we'll have to put her back in a brace for a while. Have an appointment next week to get her fitted for it. Zivah came down with a bug that lasted three days. Now that she is feeling better, she's dveloped a bit of a heat rash and looks splotchy. Joe has been exploring the three-year-old territory and has been testing the limits of my patience. (Kicking, screaming, and smacking me one minute, then not long afterward hugging and telling me he loves me.) Finley is a constant stream of pleas and complaints.

I am ready for a break.

Friday morning, bright and early, I fly out to Omaha. From there, my friend, Alicia, and I will drive out to see the Amana Festival of the Arts on Saturday. Sunday, we will probably see "the world's smallest church" , then head over to the Seed Saver's Exchange.

Two days. I can make it through these last two days.

Bob Dylan in the House

Last week, Joe got an orange shirt. When he was wearing it for the first time the other day, he came to me mid-afternoon, showing me a slit in the front of it that he 'accidentally' cut with the scissors. I doubted somewhat the accident, so proceeded to interrogate him. 'Were you trying to cut paper?' 'No...' 'Tell me what happened.'

I don't know where Joe got it from (probably Chris?), but every once in a while, Joe starts to talk like Bob Dylan, drawing out and emphasizing ceratin syllables in a nasally sort of voice.

Anyway, I guess Joe sensed he might be in some trouble, so he started relating the scissors incident to me in Bob Dylan mode, whereupon I started laughing, and he started snickering, and that was the end of that. [Though later I did manage to tell Joe that he was no longer allowed to use scissors... becasue if it was so easy for him to 'accidentally' cut something, that was dangerous as he might cut himself...]

Before I forget...

At 11 1/2 months, these are some of the things I noticed Z doing:
-pulling up on furniture (or people),
-building a tower out of blocks (she never got past 3 as the force at which she slammed the blocks down invariably knocked the tower down),
-trying to put clothes on (opening up a drawer, pulling out a random item, then trying to pull it over her head... if the item manage to stay atop her crown, she would crawl happily around until it fell off),
-taking things in and out of containers (over and over and over...),
-and mimicking odd sounds (like sirens and squeaky doors).

At 12 months, she has started throwing little 'tantrums'. Yes. For example, today she saw something in my hand she wanted. She was sitting on the kitchen floor, and reached toward what it was she wanted, verbalizing with a little whine. I didn't give it to her right away, so she cried louder and plopped her hands onto the floor. When that didn't work immediately, she did a little belly flop and proceeded to cry even louder. Yikes.

She also is determined to dominate my lap. She was playing with some random object, when Joe walked over to me where I was sitting on the floor, and sat down in my lap. Zivah dropped what she was doing and crawled over and tried to nuzzle her way in as she attempted to push Joe off with one hand.

Let the Nail Biting Begin

Look who is starting to climb the stairs:

Tomat-woes

My tomatoes are done for. I believe they are infected with fusarium wilt, a fungus that creeps through the plant, dashing any hopes of tomato bounty.

It hasn't been a total loss. I managed to harvest a few that weren't gnawed or pecked by critters before the plants totally wilted. We've had enough to grace a few hamburgers and make two small batches of spaghetti sauce and a handful of tomato sandwiches on my home made sourdough bread toasted with mayo and cheese. Teasers. Just enough to whet my tomato appetite, then leave my taste buds hanging.

I need to practice crop rotation. Only, I don't have anyplace to rotate. My expanded garden is still not large enough for the gardening I really want to do.

Pics of Z and Her Cupcake