It's a Wonderful Life

2010-04-30T11:47:00.000-07:00

It's April 30th and we woke up to 34 degrees and this. Snow. Sarah, you are so lucky. The weather in Japan looks warm and beautiful from your pictures! Doesn't look like we lost the fruit yet, though, thank heavens. It didn't actually hard freeze so hopefully we'll still get peaches and pears. The Apricots have already set so we should have a good harvest of those despite the weather. The tall green shoots you see are garlic plants, the short green shoots in front of the pink peach trees are onions, and maybe you can see the chives, strawberries and rhubarb in this post. The potatoes, peas, and carrots are also coming up and don't appear to be harmed.

Oh, we are anxious for the sun!

Sarah

2010-04-24T11:33:00.000-07:00

My baby is at this moment flying somewhere over Russia on a Chinese 747 heading for Osaka, Japan for three months to live. Without me, her mother. What is wrong with this picture? I have been obsessively watching the flight tracker status hoping and praying she will arrive safely. She has a layover in Beijing. It is hard to believe she has really pulled this off. I am very proud of her. For any family who wants to follow her adventures, feel free to go to her blog. She'll be posting entries and pictures of her trip over the next three months. It's http://gaijinzilla.blogspot.com/. That was undoubtedly the worst nights sleep I've ever had. I should have bought her a cell phone before she left so at least I could talk to her between flights. Sigh.

Grandchildren

2010-02-05T05:56:00.001-08:00

Peter is getting so big! He loves to play in Gene's truck on Sundays when he comes over to Grandma's house.
Little children are so easily amused!

New Years Resolutions

2010-01-12T08:11:00.000-08:00

This year my resolution was prompted by this photograph. This is my brother Daniel's birthday party where I am surrounded by freakishly thin and attractive young people. I am the one in brown dominating the foreground with my, er, "assets." This photo is being taken from a very unflattering vantage point. I had no idea that my nether parts had become so expansive. I don't spend much time looking at myself from the back. But can I just say Whoa! When did my bottom line get that big? I've never been a particularly thin girl, but boy oh boy, that's just downright large. Sigh. So I ordered Christine Avanti's book called "Skinny Chicks don't eat Salad" and despite the somewhat silly title, the book is marvelous and will, I hope, enable me to participate in the games at Daniel's next party with decidedly less in the caboose. I don't go to weightwatchers or anything else, but I will commit to being accountable to you, my family and friends. I could lie to you and say I'm concerned about the health risks of being overweight, but really I just want to look good in my clothes again. Better health is a nice but unnecessary fringe benefit. So far I have lost 13 pounds. It's been ten days. Wish me luck!

I love Thanksgiving.

2009-11-23T07:04:00.001-08:00

I wish my whole family could be here together to celebrate. It's beautiful here. Just look at these colors!

These are on the drive up to Aspen Grove.

And if any of you want to come, we have turkey waiting for you! Actually we have five. This is one of them getting ready for bed.

Isn't she beautiful? Maybe we won't eat her this year. She looks so peaceful up on the swingset, doesn't she?

Canning OVER. Sigh of relief.

2009-11-06T15:52:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again. My favorite season of all. I love the fall with the leaves and the snap in the air and the anticipation of the holidays. But the thing I love most about the fall is that it's the time when all the extra produce (except the apples left on the tree which I'm ignoring) are in their bottles or rotten in the compost pile, one of the two. Every year it's a battle between what gets processed and what *cough* doesn't. And my husband keeps track. He keeps track of every single thing that doesn't get done. Sometimes I wish he would count the things that do get done. But that's not his nature. He is an analyzer extraordinaire, and he knows down to the ounce what food got wasted. It makes me sad too, to see the food that doesn't get processed. I know he works hard to grow that food and I'd really like to get ALL of it into bottles, but my heavens, sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in tomatoes, zucchini and peaches. I just don't dwell on it. It's my nature. I'm not an analyzer. Of anything. Sigh.

But we're done. Yeah. One more year in the bottle. We have a whole winter to get ready for next year. Once I get my bottles organized, I'll post a picture of the rows of shiny yummy food. Or not. Organizing is also not in my nature.

Thank You

2009-09-18T15:10:00.000-07:00

To those generous souls who have found it in your hearts to support Sarah in accomplishing her dream, we thank you. As soon as she reaches her goal we will remove the donation buttons, this is not an attempt to generate revenue. I know she will make her goal. God bless you for helping her.

Family Reunions

2009-08-11T13:25:00.001-07:00

The most wonderful thing about family reunions is watching the cousins get to know each other, and seeing all the new babies. I love new babies. Thanks everyone for sharing your homes, families, and time with us.

Turkeys are getting big.

2009-08-04T13:40:00.001-07:00

Except that cute black one got his head stuck in the fence yesterday. We don't know how long he stood there squawking unable to free himself. My husband freed him from his chicken wire prison and he stumbled around til he found the water, then just sat there for the rest of the day. Whoever says turkeys are smart has not met our turkeys.

They are cute though. And delicious when they are a little bigger.

New Chicks

2009-07-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

It's a little late in the season, but our grouchy hen who has been sitting on the next growling and pecking at anyone who tries to take her eggs . . .
. . . hatched an adorable baby chick. It's a cross. The father is probably our frankenstein rooster Stitch, who my children found sliced nearly in half by some nameless predator, and my husband sewed up with embroidery thread or dental floss (I can't remember which) while my nine year old daughter held it down, and then he nursed it back to health in a box in our laundry room. We thought he would die, for sure. But, that Stitch is tough! He's a miracle rooster, and truly enjoys being king of the harem here now.

The mother could be any one of the hens, we don't know which. (When a hen is setting, my husband steals and marks a couple of eggs from other chickens and puts them under the setting hen to increase the chances of hatching.) Surrogate(?) momma was sitting on eight or nine eggs and only this little cutie hatched. We'll see what his mama was when he grows up a little. Maybe a Rhode Island Red.

At any rate, we have new babies! Yipee!

Honey Harvest

2009-07-09T05:39:00.000-07:00

Last week we harvested five gallons of delicious honey. Here are some pictures of my amazing husband at work with thousands of (sedated) bees. First he smokes the hive he's chosen to raid.

You can see the frames in the box here, with masses of bees on it. Do you see the white wax over top of the honeycomb in one of the frames? That's capped over honey, which means it's cured and ready for us to extract.
We take the honeyframes in the house one at a time (you don't want to uncap delicious honey outside where the bees will catch wind of it and come looking for their treasure. He uses an electric knife that heats up when you plug it in to gently remove the thin cappings from the honeycomb. (We melt that down later, clean it up, strain it, and use it for lipgloss, soap, and other things. I haven't tried candles yet, but I will. Someday. When I have time.)

Then he puts the frames in a spinner, and turns the crank on the top to pull the honey out of the uncapped comb with centrifugal force. (Did I spell that right?) It comes out at the bottom into a honey strainer. Kaela loves this part.

Here she is watching over the process.

The bees hang around while we spin out the honey, mildly annoyed, but we spin far away from the hives so that we don't a major attack. I'll come back tomorrow and post a picture of the strained, bottled, and labelled honey. Mmmmmmm. It's delicious this year.

Father's Day

2009-06-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday after the barbecue was over and Gene's parents and my Mom and Jordan and Baby Peter had gone home, Gene commented rather sadly that none of his kids had called him on Father's Day. Sarah, my sweet girl (I know none of you believe this given her loud and rambunctious personality but really, she's so sweet) wrote him a poem about how grateful she was that he was willing to be the father for her even though she is often ungrateful. I cried when I read it. Gene teared up and said it was the nicest thing a kid had ever done for him, and it's getting framed and hung by his bed along with Kaela's darling offering, a collage with a picture of her and collection of farm animal stickers and a little hand written to Daddy from Kaela.

Man, just when you think you know a kid they go and do something really amazing and remind you once again that we so often underestimate their depth of feeling and compassion. Sarah, I love you. And Gene, I love you too for being the kind of man that you are. Father's Day was wonderful this year.

Mother's Day

2009-05-11T09:33:00.000-07:00

Why did it take me until my very last child to relax and enjoy Mother's Day? What wonderful times I've been missing with my paranoid, insecure convictions that I was the worst mother on earth and that my children may have been better off with wolves. Or bears. I hear they make good mothers. I used to go to church and listen to all the talks about marvellous moms barely controlling tears of despair. One Mother's Day not so very long ago I actually went to bed right after church and didn't get up until the next day. It was the coward's way out, I know, but at the time it seemed like the only solution. Only in sleep did the critical voices in my head shut their mouths.

Now in the waning years of motherhood, with my youngest child having just turned seven and my oldest two up and out, I realize that not only was I way too hard on myself, but the reality is that my kids remember the best and the worst of times--and they love me anyway. It's quite liberating. I do my best. I mess up. They love me anyway. That goes both ways. They do their best. They mess up. I love them anyway. It's all good! And one other thing -- it's funny that the people who worry about doing the right thing generally AREN'T the ones who have the big problems. I don't think those moms you read about in the paper who lock their children in basements and feed them only dry dog food or who leave their children behind while they pursue drugs and rock and roll ever worried about whether or not they were a good mother. So if you are one of those worriers, just stop it! You're doing fine. And all you young Moms out there, take my advice--Enjoy the messy breakfast in bed, first grade hand plaques, flowers picked out of your garden, sticky hugs. Enjoy the tributes to motherhood, because you're earning your own tribute right now one crisis at a time. Enjoy the cards and the compliments. You're the MOM! What a great thing to be!

Miracles

2008-09-18T05:25:00.000-07:00

Well today my husband and I had our semi quarterly argument about money in which I am the irresponsible flibbertigibbet and he is the maligned self-sacrificing penny pincher who never gets to buy what he wants because I spend all the money. I know my role here. It's an old script. He says "Do you think I don't have things I want to buy?" I say "I want money for a retainer for a lawyer not a mink coat." He says "Why do I have to bear the financial burdens of others." I say "Congratulations Dad, you signed up for this when you had kids and married someone with kids." He says "Argghhhhh!" and rails on me for all of the flaws in my personality he can think of because he's frustrated. I say "Fine. I'm going to bed. By myself."

Today, though, it didn't get as nasty as normal, I did acknowledge that I could do a better job conserving and he did acknowledge that he has choices about what he buys or doesn't buy -- I am not the one constraining him. And in the end, after a several hour discussion during which I tried hard to focus while processing tomatoes from the garden, he gave me a hug and said how nice it was to talk about hard subjects with someone who didn't curse at him or throw pans. Or chase him with butcher knives. (I just about fell over. And oh my goodness I'm glad I haven't been where he's been.) That is the first time this argument has ever ended with anything but my storming off to bed angry. You know, I think I'll forgo the diet coke for lunch and see if I can work out a carpool arrangement to save gas money. And I still need the retainer for the lawyer, but maybe I can put up some of my several thousand books I don't read anymore on Amazon and bring back a little cash into the household. Miracles take many forms.

It's About Me

2008-07-08T05:37:00.001-07:00

So my husband and I had a terrible fight. You know, one of those nasty married people fights where things are said that are the most hurtful they could be because number one, they come from the person you love, and number two, the person you love knows you better than anyone and knows just what to say to really hurt you. But while running around feeling all injured (that's my role you know, the one I set up, where he is the bad guy and I get to be injured?) I was struck with the thought "You're choosing this." What? I looked up at God, "I'm not choosing this, did you see what he did, did you see how mean he was, I didn't make him say those awful things". To my mind, quietly and powerfully came the words "You're choosing to be angry, you're choosing to let these actions minimize you, you're choosing to engage in these confrontations, and you're choosing because you delight in being right." Oh. That hurt. I delight in being right. Is that true? Well, I do get a lot of validation from being right. I'm the smart kid. The one with straight As. I like to be the star player at work, I like to be the good Mom. I do like being right.

What's wrong with being right? I mutter, still dealing with the fringes of anger and self-righteous indignation. (If you only knew what he said to me, you would be angry for me too! You too would be caught up in the lie that nice, innocent little me is being victimized by the big grouchy cowboy.) Just Stop! There are no victims here. I'm not some captive woman tied up in the corner bedroom and beaten at will. I am a grown functioning adult who chooses. And if I am perfectly honest with myself, I know that I chose that confrontation. I chose to be dramatic and sigh a lot to show how I knew better than he did. I chose to be angry at the first signs of his choosing a path other than the one I wanted taken. (Didn't he hear me sighing? Couldn't he tell that I was irritated with his choice?) I chose to stick around and listen after he popped a gasket. I chose it! Why! Why do I choose this?

I am praying now for the wisdom to choose appropriately. To save confrontation for times that are inspired by a desire to help my husband rather than a desire to show that I am right and he is wrong. I am trying to exude love and patience rather than stress and irritation. It is amazing how much what I put out impacts the energy in our home. My husband is human. He makes mistakes as do I. But he is not the villain in our scenario. He is just another player in our little scenes, and I have a choice about how I interact with him.

Summer Vacation Blues

2008-06-25T07:27:00.000-07:00

So I'm listening to women all around me with the summer vacation blues -- women everywhere nod knowingly at each other in the grocery store and say things like "I can't wait for school to start." Kids underfoot all summer with nothing to do, summer full of chaos and bickering -- I can see how that is stressful. However, I am not feeling sympathetic. In fact, I'm feeling a little bitter about it. I know I am just feeling envious because they have what I long to have--free time at home with the kids, the ability to sleep in occasionally, and a release from the pressure to help support a large family. I know, I know, the grass is always greener. I know it's hard to be a stay at home Mom too. I did stay home with my first three daughters. I had three girls under four years old. I remember being a stay at home mom -- I remember going insane listening to Barney sing his stupid song about cleaning up over and over again. I remember feeling like the only things I did all day were cook, sew, and chauffeur, all while breaking up fist fights and cleaning jam off the walls. I remember wondering why I had to utter phrases like "don't put that worm in your mouth". Shouldn't some things be obvious? Even to a three year old?

At the time, it was so hectic and insane and I thought it would never end. Now as I hurry off to work and leave my precious five year old in child care, I am achingly jealous of my stay at home friends. I wish I could take her to the pool and the library and argue with her over cleaning her room. I wish I could figure out a way to provide what is needed for my family and be home to be the Mommy. Above all, I wish I had enjoyed the Mommy moments I had with my first three much more. Every sticky, crazy moment is truly precious. I still get them here and there between business meetings and emails. But it's not the same as being there 24/7 through peace and chaos. Oh, I miss that time in my life. I miss it all. Except maybe the worms. No, I don't miss the worms.

Weight Watcher Blues

2008-04-22T10:44:00.000-07:00

So I've signed up for online Weightwatchers. That's weight watchers with no meetings. No cheering. No commiseration. No public humiliation. Just me and my computer. So far it's been good. I joined Saturday. What I have learned about my own eating behavior is worth every penny of the sign-up. I eat junk in the afternoon, and one hershey's kiss costs me more more points than an entire tub of salad mix. And I've been eating hershey's kisses by the bag for months. (They're small, I reasoned. I only eat three or four a day, I rationalized. What could they hurt? Well, I've gained 20 pounds in a semester. I guess they hurt.)

But WeightWatchers promises me a way to end all of this flab drab depression. I'm doing the plan, I'm eating my 26 points worth each day and feeling pretty good. I actually ate fruit yesterday. Who knew it was actually good? So why the blues? Did you know that a small (I was being good) Sonic chocolate malt is FOURTEEN (14) points? That's more than half of my daily allotment. And I didn't check the count until after I ordered and consumed the malt. Oh, woe is me. Why did I need that sugar pick me up before taking my last final exam? Was it worth it? Did the sugar high help me remember a few more points of trivia so I could get that all important A? I certainly hope so. Cause I'm going to be feeling it tonight when the family eats pizza and I eat green salad with light dressing. On the side.

Winter Wonderland

2007-12-15T08:40:00.000-08:00