Much like Frank Peretti’s, The Oath or Prophet, Rubart takes a spiritual concept and illustrates it in a compelling and fascinating story.

Cameron Vaux is plagued by the fear that he is loosing his mind to Alzheimer’s. His father is in advanced stages of the disease. Cameron is convinced that if he finds the Book of Days his dad talks about in a rare coherent conversation, he will be cured. He sets out on an adventure in a small town in central Oregon, filled with danger and romance. Cameron faces some of my own deepest fears, and yet, the story Rubart tells is full of hope and ultimately freedom.

I cried through the first two chapters, rallied for Cameron through the fast paced middle and celebrated in his victory at the end. This novel is a must read! I will always have a copy, or two, on my shelf.

Jessie Ann

For more on my biggest fear and my personal experience with Alzheimer’s see this previous post; Things I Can’t Talk About.

I had hoped to report to you that wrestling a Coonhound that is twice your size does- in fact- induce labor but it has been nearly 16 hrs since the event and I’m still with child. Or at least I was when I wrote this post. None-the-less, you might enjoy my adventure.

Why, might I ask, do these things ALWAYS happen when I’m very pregnant?

Here she is, “hiding” before her home surgery. Poor girl, really thinks I can’t see her. Insert the dopiest voice you can conjure up, “If I don’t look du’ humans in the eye they’ll never find me.”

I spotted her limping and discovered a small bone or quill stuck out from the pad of one of her toes. I grabbed a pair of tweezers and two strapping–er’ I mean scrawny little boys–to help me. I had Scarfunkle and Captain Obvious each hold a leg while I sat on the third leg (10 mo pregnant, mind you) and grasped the offending foot.

One little tweeze and that big ol’ hound was bucking and twisting. She sent Captain flying one direction and Scarfunkle plopped down the other, while I hung on for dear life. “Just…let…me…HOLD STILL WILLAMINA!” Then, just like those strange water wiggler toys grandma had at her house when I was a kid, that loose skinned hound slipped out from under me and I too took a ride. The three of us lay on the floor and Willamina hurried back to her “hiding” place. After several attempts we realized weren’t going to be able to do a darn thing so I sent her back out to wait for Matt. I hoped the snow would numb it some and keep any swelling down.

Of course I forgot all about it until we’d loaded the kids in the car to head to evening church. Matt went to put the dogs in their kennel and suddenly my memory jarred. Oops! Upon inspection we knew it couldn’t wait. The swelling had begun and the foreign object was now flush with the pad of her foot.

Hubby got the needle nose pliers. I got the scissors and tweezers. Scarfunkle grabbed a bag of ice and Captain Obvious tried to subdue the other restless Thinglets buckled in their car seats.

Surgery began and oh boy did she protest.

We sent Scarfunkle out to the car with a message, “Pray boys, pray!”

Let me tell you, there ain’t no more offensive odor than a stressed out hound dog! She excreted her stench and whimpered when Matt sat on her head. One hundred sixty + lbs of dog is something to be reckoned with especially one as wimpy as she is! She wanted nothing to do with our toe saving adventure and she let us know it. I sat on the rear half of her while Matt restrained the front half and I went to work.

Ten minutes on ice gave me just barely enough numb to cut around the thorn or bone or whatever it was. The prayers of three little boys were answered when in one tug I was able to get the darn thing out. It was a good inch long and stuck straight in. Poor girl!

Poor us!

We needed a bath. No time for that. I feel sorry for the people who sat next to us in church. Even a change of clothes and three or four hand washings couldn’t eliminate the stench she let off. Gotta love a hound dog!

Please join me at my new web home JessieGunderson.com and don’t forget to like the Blog Schmog Facebook community HERE.

I couldn’t decide if my new plan for my jewelry is seriously hick or more chic so I’ll call it both. Do you have a more creative name for these necklace and earring holders? This was a “waiting for baby” distraction so I’m plumb out of creativity. I had barely enough brain power to wield a glue gun. Hubby wouldn’t even let me use the tin snips. Probably with good cause. I’ve been nutty lately!

The rusty ol’ rake head was easy enough to come by. Just beware of rake hunting in the yard if there is likely to be a handle attached. Ouch!

Turn said rake handle upside down and hang from a screw anchored to the wall. Use a good molly or be sure to hit a stud with a long enough screw. That puppy with all that gold (I mean costume jewelry) is really pretty heavy. I tied a ribbon around the top and attached a cute pin to cover the screw head.

Next I made the earring frame using a .50 cent thrift store find and a piece of vintage fabric.

Using the cardboard that the frame came with, I cut my fabric, leaving a generous border on all sides. At first I planned to use the right side but then I decided it would be too busy when the earrings are supposed to be the decoration so Matt suggested I turn it inside out. What a smart husband I have. I would have never considered using the WRONG side.

Once I had it cut to size I cut out the corners, even angling back a little bit, so that I could wrap and glue the fabric to the cardboard.

Hot glue that puppy down. Make sure it is good and tight but don’t buckle the cardboard. And by all means, don’t burn yourself like I did. Maybe that’s why Matt kept me from the tin snips!

Lastly I had Matt cut a square of chicken wire. I sorta wish it was the octagon shape and not square. We used the smallest stuff we had lying around. He cut the corners like I had with the fabric and then bent it around the outside of the front of the frame. I tried putting it in the frame with the fabric but it was too tight and wouldn’t allow the backs of the earrings through. Much too frustrating to use on a daily basis.

Wala! A work of art as well as a practical solution to my earring collection. I have to admit, big earrings are about the only “bling” I’m addicted to.

Any questions? I’m sure my directions are as clear as mud.

 Well, it’s been a little while now but Captain Obvious had another birthday and I had yet another moment of realization, “I am grown up!”

 How does it happen?

No one can say. But I was picking dandelion bouquets one day and filling little vases with my children’s beautiful weeds the next.

I love this first picture of us as parents. You might not be able to tell except the red face but Captain was taking a breath in the middle of a good cry and Matt and I are laughing.

Who would have known that this little screaming baby would turn into a boy?

A boy who loves the Lord.

A boy who helps with his siblings.

A boy who loves animals.

A boy, whom a the ripe age of 9 is already passionate about truth and faith.

Where do they come from?

I am certainly nothing special.

After all, wasn’t I nine just last week?

No one has ever been able to describe it and mother’s will forever say, “I can remember my childhood like it was yesterday.”

I am in awe at the wonder of God’s creation!

Children.

Beautiful, unique, challenging, growing, child of mine.

Side note – Captain Obvious has requested a nick name change. I haven’t decided yet if I can bear to give up my “authority”. He would like to petition the blog for the name Doolittle instead of Captain Obvious.

Waaaaaa!

Please join me at my new web home JessieGunderson.com and don’t forget to like the Blog Schmog Facebook community HERE.

I finally got sick of looking at “Bob’s Plumbing” (no offense Bob) and several random chipped up porcelain refrigerator magnets. How about you? What’s your worst magnet?

To remedy that, the kids and I had another craft day. This was so easy and cheap. I think I’ll do it again and next time I will splurge on stronger magnets for all the pictures and cardstock I hang.

Supplies you’ll need:

• cute bright colored papers (even recycled cards and mail work)
• large glass gems (I got mine at the dollar store)
• magnets
• glue (so far Elmer’s worked)
• scissors

We cut out squares of paper and glued the decorative side of the paper to the back of the gem so the pattern shows through the bubble. Be sure to spread and smash the glue across the entire gem. Then we let them dry for at least an hour. This was a nice project to start before nap/reading hour and finish after. Once they were dry we trimmed the excess paper and stuck magnets to the back, pressing down hard to attach. Now write yourself a note and try out your new magnets! When the kids drop them all over the floor and break every last one of them, it will only cost pennies to update.

Three hours old. Chunky and happy.

Today she chose a very unconventional coat–a chicken suit. But there wasn’t any convincing her otherwise.

Daddy said it’s all good, it goes well with our tarp “barn”.

It’s  amazing to me how many things we consider “necessity”. I wrote a post previously about surviving on one income and today, as the date for my son’s arrival approaches, I found myself thinking about baby necessities and what is truly helpful and what is just plain extra. I must be nesting! Can you tell from the baby car seat torn apart for deep cleaning?

When you are on a tight budget it is helpful to identify the extras and not get caught with stars in your eyes. I’ve sure had my eye on a few unnecessary and expensive accessories. But even the inexpensive things add up. So… what are you baby “necessities” and the things you know you can live without?

Baby necessities I DON’T use:

• diaper bag (in the traditional sense) – I have a cute, larger than normal purse and I put my wallet in that and a couple diapers. Sometimes wipes. Yep, that’s all folks, for real! Mind you, my normal purse fits only a checkbook and some bills, maybe a couple of tubes of lip gloss.
• backpack or front carrier – I put my mind to learning how to use the Moby wrap (which amounts to a long piece of fabric, you can purchase enough at Joanne’s to make your own for under $15). Once you actually learn how to do it, the Moby is the easiest, most adjustable and most comfortable carrier on the market. But don’t neglect the practice or it will just frustrate you.
• changing pad or table – That’s what blankets and couches or beds are for.
• baby toys and/or items of furniture – Why bother when they grow out of these things so fast? I’ve had one child that loved a swing and so I reluctantly kept that around. No exersaucer, no bouncy thing, no floor gym (that’s how babies get sat on by siblings ;)). A car seat or small lightweight age appropriate seat is helpful but not all those hurky (Did I made up that word) furniture pieces that mean you have to put your couch in storage!
• I’ve never had a car seat condom. Oops, I’m so sorry I meant winter car seat cover!

Oh I could think of a ton more but I’ll stop. There are some thing that do make mothering so much easier but I’m so grumpy as I write this I can’t think of many. That’s what happens when you are days from your due date and snowed in and hopefully by the time you read this he will be here. Maybe you will remember something I’ve forgotten below and help me out of my funk! Somehow I think this funk might be here to stay until the baby arrives. Ack!

Baby items I do use:

• disposable wipes and disposable diapers especially when you are away from home.
• Moby wrap – or homemade version
• bebePod seat or other safe place to sit a curious baby- lots of different brands available
• siblings – these are a must for entertainment and help!

Since everyone is different you may totally disagree so…. Now its your turn.

Please join me at my new web home JessieGunderson.com and don’t forget to like the Blog Schmog Facebook community HERE.

Dressed as a Muslim, I was invisible. There were only two people during my day out on the town that regarded me as equal. Read about them below.

I finally got up the nerve to conduct an experiment in which I wore a veil around town and reflected on people’s reactions. I did not intend it to offend anyone but to gain more sympathy and understanding for those practicing religions that include wearing one, especially in my relatively homogenous monoculture.

The pictures in this post are me as Fadia, the heroine in my current work in progress, a christian suspense, where the clash between Muslim culture and American ideals is a large part of the plot. In her culture this is called hijab.

Here is what I learned.

I prayed, before embarking on my adventure, that God would give me insight and deeper compassion in understanding His heart for all people. Then Matt and I headed out to Wal Mart. He dressed simply in his usual–jeans and long sleeved t-shirt. He was nervous because people around here tend to be a little bit prejudice or at least ignorant. Not because they intend to be but there isn’t a lot of diversity up here in North Idaho so it is not something people experience. Matt grew up in California where the opposite is true. And he misses that melting pot lifestyle.

We spent almost two hours at Wal Mart where, except for the veil, I acted my friendly, casual self. In all that time only three people smiled at me (not counting the checker). One was a man who gave me a cursory glance and a meek smile. Another was an elderly woman in the bathroom. The third is the only person the entire time whom I felt looked at me like another human being. While the other two smiles were appreciated, this woman was different. She was also, the first person who didn’t steer across the aisle or look me up and down after I’d passed.

Matt noted that when people avoided looking directly at me, they would turn and gawk after passing. He said it wasn’t a disdainful look but more naivety or curiosity.

The woman in the blue sweater spotted me at the end of an isle. Her eyes sparkled with interest and she blinked only a brief second before looking me full in the face, radiating peace and confidence. I could tell that at first glance, I caught her off guard but she must have had a conversation with herself in that split second and made a decision to choose grace. Her smile is something I can hardly describe because I’ve rarely felt the “outsider” with an opportunity to evaluate what someone must “think” of me. We saw each other offten throughout the shopping excursion and her reaction never changed. I guess it was a smile that extended an offering of friendship despite differences, acceptance regardless of my circumstance, stage in life, religious preference…. It was so fresh and vibrant to be regarded as such after a long shopping experience where I was virtually invisible to most humans.

I hope she knows how appreciated her love was. Her grace must have come from a heart forgiven, unconditional love accepted and a life surrendered to Christ.

We made a quick stop at the mall where I was a little bit less of an anomaly. The young people milling about didn’t take much notice. But an elderly couple passed us in the hall when we left a store where I’d bought a new pair of sweats for after the baby comes. The husband gripped his wife’s arm possessively and looked us both up and down with fire in his eyes. That was the first time anyone took notice of Matt.

I realized that the man thought if I was a Muslim woman then Matt must be a terrorist. How sad that this was his only conclusion. Matt and I talked about all the other possibilities. I could be Jewish, or a cancer patient or simply cold…. And yet he gave us a look like we intended to blow up the mall.

We decided it was time for dinner and so Matt went for the car. I chose a chair in the food court near the door to wait and the most ironic thing happened. A Muslim family came in. Okay, now I’m stereotyping but they sounded like they were speaking another language and the woman wore a beautiful pale blue veil and modest clothing. Funny enough, beneath the veil, she, her husband and her two children more western than I me. She had trendy jeans, and a hooded sweater.

She was the second person to whom I was not invisible. After they had ordered some food she went out of her way to steer the baby stroller next to my table. Her face beamed with recognition and almost relief. I waved at the little guy and her daughter, about 6, played and smiled at me too. We didn’t speak any words but we both knew the other understood. We were two islands in a sea of unfamiliar, lonely and wanting, compelled to smile at each other. We had to band our hearts together in the brief time we had before it was gone again. I realized through that encounter how desperate and empty it is to live in a foreign place and be looked at as the “untouchable”.