I have to admit that spring and summer weather in PA, except for that heavy heat that settles down, especially at night when you're trying to sleep, is pretty exciting. Once the first robins show up, pretty soon, the neighborhood is full of birds and they ALL have something to say. It's clearly a feathered meat-market--and the guy who moved into the old wasp nest outside our window did pretty well, scoring a wife in just a day or two. I worry the nest will fall apart for good before the eggs hatch and the chicks are raised, but for now, it's a good place to be.
When the sun isn't shining and the weather isn't being magnificent, there's a thunderstorm on the way, or overhead, or just passed. And I love a good thunderstorm (having never been struck by lightening or having had my roof ripped off or anything. These are not newsworthy storms. They're not even as impressive as the ones we saw in Minnesota--but those sometimes went too far and scared the jeebers out of me. These are kinder, gentler thunderstorms.)
OTOH, if I don't get one of the THREE clients who owe me checks to pay me soon, I'm gonna start wishing lightening strikes on someone . . . . I don't think I have any actual authority in that area, so they're safe anyway. But, I'm starting to WISH a little kaboom in their neighborhood. They're making it difficult to observe my naturally-law abiding nature.
I started my new job. It was only three hours of training, and maybe that's just as well. It's a LOT to learn. I felt a little overwhelmed at times just because, well, it's new! But I came home excited about it.
I then jumped into my jeans and ran over and got 2.5 hrs in the garden at Gaye's house. Only 5 blueberry bushes and one raised bed garden left to get into place. I do need more DIRT and I'm trying to figure out where to get that cheaply. You'd think dirt would easier to find.
After picking the kids up from school, I transplanted the tomato plants I knew I wanted to keep into bigger peat pots. Hopefully they won't need transplanting one more time before it's really time to put them in the garden. There are approximately 12 plants, of which I will only plant 9. It will soon be time to get tomato cages. I've used stakes for the past few years, but I am reluctant to use them for anything but kindling because of the disease problems from last year.
It's time for dinner now. I'm pretty worn out. I think tonight will be one of those nights when the object of the game is to not fall asleep before the kids do.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Been There, Done That
This week was a week like no other. It got off to a bang with a normal Sunday, which was notable mostly in that it was normal. We had a little time for breathing at the end of the day. That was nice.
Monday kicked my keester. I finished all our taxes and the news--the news is never good. It wasn't as horrific as some previous years, but it was still bad. Within minutes of finishing the state taxes, I got an email from Penn State telling me, again (because I've heard it before) that they're sure I'm a wonderful writer and editor, but there are lots of writers and editors out there and I'm simply the wrong kind. A textbook writer at a University is simply not "as qualified" as, oh, pretty much English major. Or so it would seem.
Feeling kicked around, I changed into play clothes and went over to Gaye's house to work in the garden. The bird and butterfly box wasn't going well. I had gotten my measurements astonishingly wrong and was, quite simply, digging a really large hole in the wrong place. Gurney's was having a sale on blueberry bushes. Gaye and I made an on-the-spot decision to get into the blueberry-growing business. Besides, I have a single, lonely blueberry bush that wasn't thriving in its perfect soil in a pot. It really wanted to be in the ground with plenty of access to that acidic clay. So I brought over the blueberry bush and plonked it in the center of the hole--mostly to have a place to put the dirt I was now digging out for the proper location of the box. But then I hit a rock. And suffice to say, that after digging out this rock for nearly an hour, I realized that I was simply NOT going to be able to dig out the rock. The rock was staying.
I went and got Gaye and we pondered the situation, and then reluctantly moved the box AGAIN--6 inches more to the west of the original position. At this point, the box is in place. It needs to be shored up in one spot by some of the many rocks that were dug out during the excavation, and in general, we need something to do with those rocks. We need the rest of the blueberry bushes to arrive, so we can fill in the big hole in the spot where the box didn't go, and so that the one bush we do have, doesn't look so lonely.
That said, I checked on the blueberry bush today and in spite of the fact that it was only transplanted 6 days ago, it's sporting all sorts of new growth. It almost screams, "Acidic clay!! Oh!! I'm so happy!!" It's primary rootball sits in nice organic potting soil, but in the pot it was holding way too much moisture, and with the extra moisture wicked away, I suspect it's also happier for that reason.
Anyway, I got ahead of myself because the re-digging of the box didn't happen until Tuesday. So back to Monday afternoon. I went and got the kids and then headed back home where I found an email from a law office I know.
This post is from May 27, 2007:
"Initially I was looking for temporary work, but then an opportunity for a part-time permanent position came up. It's not in education. I haven't done anything like it in years. The pay can't compare to freelancing--but it would be every week, rain or shine. I met and liked the other person in the office. I met and liked the person who would be my boss. If it doesn't come through, I don't know if I'll keep looking for something else. Freelance work, like it always does, has passed through it's difficult pause and there will soon be plenty of work again. But if offered the position, I believe I'll take it. The work would suit me, and getting a supplemental paycheck regularly would suit me, too. I would continue to freelance, but no more taking on two full-time contracts and one more part-time on the side."
There's a WHOLE lot more to the story that doesn't belong on the blog, but in this case, on Monday evening I got an email, and then a phone call, asking if I was still, possibly, maybe, interested in working there while freelancing on the side. And I said, "yes." And so, getting ahead of myself again, I went in on Wednesday and reinterviewed for the job. We'll get back to that.
I still wasn't done with Monday evening. I had a PAC meeting to go to. I went. I ran it. We had a busy conversation. I came home and crashed.
Tuesday I worked most of the day in Gaye's garden getting that box in place so that I could not think about the part-time job. In the afternoon I supervised piano practicing because the annual April recital was coming up and we needed to be ready. Chris was running a focus group for his work, so I led the 11-year-old scouts in a short lesson at the church and then they played football outside until the sun was gone.
Wednesday. Wednesday I dropped the kids off at school, ran over to Target for new pantyhose and a pair of spring shoes since the ones from last spring/summer were shot. I had about 3o minutes before the interview, so I went and got a drink because I was thirsty. And I SPILLED it on the polyester shirt I was wearing. I tried to dab it up, but it's the kind of top that immediately can't be fixed in that situation. I drove around for a few panicked moments and then felt I should go to the interview as is and look for a solution THERE.
Now, I really hit it off with my office mate/office manager there last year and we've exchanged a few emails since, so I showed her the blouse when I got there--still 10 minutes early. She lent me her white sweater. It was perfect. It completely covered the spots and I wouldn't be doing a reinactment of that Tide commercial from the Superbowl.
The interview went fine. I was offered the job. I accepted it. Friday morning we hammered out a schedule for next week. I'll be working around the schedule of the woman who has the job right now for a few weeks while she trains me. Then I can work during the hours the kids are in school.
So, anyway, the interview was Wednesday morning. I was useless for most of the rest of the day. I already knew I had the job and I was very happy. I wanted to find Gaye and tell her what had happened, but she was over at theSenior Crack House Senior Citizen Center. The State College Senior Citizen Center (SCSCC) turns out to be all kinds of fun, full of Mahjong, Scrabble, and regular trips to here and there. They serve a good, cheap lunch, and Gaye is swiftly making lots of friends. When she goes missing, I call there first. (She has since agreed to start carrying her cell phone again.) So I ran home, found out my phone had gone dead, made an appointment with Verizon to get it fixed on Friday (I wasn't in any hurry--for whatever reason, the DSL still worked), hopped out of interview clothing and into jeans, and went downtown. I found Gaye and she agreed to go to JoAnn's fabrics with me. I told her the whole story of the interview adventure. Next to the SCSCC is a goldsmith. I go in and get my rings cleaned. Oooh, shiney. It was a worthwhile whim.
We went to JoAnn's and found a Gentleman Ship's Captain costume to go with the pirate costumes and bought fabric and a lot of buttons for it. Max's play was on Friday and I knew that Thursday was my only shot at sewing it together.
We headed home, picked up the kids, went to piano lessons, had dinner, and I started to cut out fabric. Around this time I got an email reminding me that some dear friends were coming through town this weekend and were spending the night Friday night. I'd totally neglected to write it down. I confessed, but it was all good, and they still came Friday night.
Thursday. Now the week starts to get interesting. I enlist the help of a friend who can sew much better than I and with her help, I get everything done except a small part along one seam, the lace, and the buttons and button holes. I head over to the school and do Reader's Theater with the 2nd graders, take the twins home, and keep sewing. Chris drops off Max at group piano, then picks him up. I think I order pizza or something. It takes me FOREVER but I finally figure out button holes.
However, button holes is the last thing my machine has sewed properly. It hasn't worked since. It jams every which way. I'm at a loss. I start sewing on seven million buttons.
Friday morning. I keep an eye out for Verizon and keep sewing on buttons. I hate sewing buttons. I keep sewing on buttons. Verizon arrives and fixes the problem. It's on their end, so no charge to me. Yay! I talk to the law office and get the schedule for next week. I finish the costume, grab all the stuff for the play, run over to the school, leave the costumes with the woman in charge of the Extended-Day Extravaganza and check the boys out of school-----to get their hair cuts. It was the only time I could do it before the piano recital!! So I just did. We went to the barber, the downtown was crazy. There was a bomb scare of some sort (turned out later to be an experimental insulin pump thing that someone accidentally left somewhere it didn't belong. It had many wires and it looked scary I guess) so they'd emptied the downtown, including the SCSCC. Gaye and I got hold of each other and we picked her up after the hair cuts and took her home. From there we went over to the church where the recital would be so they could practice on the grand piano.
This turned out to be a huge hassle. I won't go into it, but in the end we did get into the building and each boy got to practice their piece at least once on the piano they'd actually be playing on the next day.
We ran back to the school and I left the boys with Chris who'd just arrived. I went to get Gaye and we came back and were treated to a very nice show on the part of the school and the kids. From there Max and Chris went to church to watch the Lip Synch contest and I took the twins and Grandma downtown and we got her car now that the bomb scare was over.
Then the twins and I went and watched the lip synch contest. WONDERFUL! Until Sarah called to say she was on her way. I grabbed the twins and went home and started cleaning. When Chris got there he helped me with the dishes. The place didn't look great, but it looked liveable by the time they got there.
We all wanted to talk and go to sleep simultaneously. Talking won. In the morning (it is now Saturday) we talked and ate and they left an hour and a half later than they meant to. Max and the twins and I got some groceries, dropped off Max at tennis, ran another errand, picked up Max, ran home, made the kids lunch, supervised showers and recital clothing, got us all off to the recital, picked up Gaye, and then . . .
the kids played. And they each did the best they could possibly do. And it was beautiful. By the end we (Chris and I) were each in tears, even though I prayed through most of Max's pieces that he wouldn't be too nervous. Maybe it worked for he was soooo . . . . great :) Just terrific.
This is Miss Irene with some of her students, including Max, far left. He has played with her for three years now.
Here are Ben and Milo with another tiny musician:
Chris is working on the video. There will be DVD's for the grandparents.
After that we went and celebrated at Meyer's Dairy with sundae's and then stopped off at a local farm on the way home to pick up 5 dozen eggs I'd ordered.
We had Quiche Lorraine and Veggie Quiche for dinner with the missionaries--I'd signed up to feed them many weeks before I completely understood the nature of this week.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow is church, followed by a short break, and then a special "Preparing for Priesthood" get together for Max and one of the other "almost a 12-yr-old" boys.
Which is followed by a week in which I start my new part-time job, do the usual piano lessons and stuff, have the kids off from school on Thursday because of parent-teacher conferences, and then on Friday I supervise the volunteers who will be constructing the new school playground (it's just my job just to keep the volunteers happy--and there). There's a Board of Trustees mtg which I will probably have to miss as Sarah and her gang are coming back through and we really want those few hours with them again.
And a week from today? It's easy peasy! Nothing on the schedule but tennis. Oh yeah, and I teach the Relief Society lesson the next day. Well, I'll get that in there somewhere . . . .
Let's make it my goal to keep it that way. Well, only so I can get some gardening done :) Also, hopefully the lawn mower will be fixed early this week because her lawn needs mowing. She gets so much more rain and sun than we do. She already needs a mowing! We'll still have a week or two before we get there.
Monday kicked my keester. I finished all our taxes and the news--the news is never good. It wasn't as horrific as some previous years, but it was still bad. Within minutes of finishing the state taxes, I got an email from Penn State telling me, again (because I've heard it before) that they're sure I'm a wonderful writer and editor, but there are lots of writers and editors out there and I'm simply the wrong kind. A textbook writer at a University is simply not "as qualified" as, oh, pretty much English major. Or so it would seem.
Feeling kicked around, I changed into play clothes and went over to Gaye's house to work in the garden. The bird and butterfly box wasn't going well. I had gotten my measurements astonishingly wrong and was, quite simply, digging a really large hole in the wrong place. Gurney's was having a sale on blueberry bushes. Gaye and I made an on-the-spot decision to get into the blueberry-growing business. Besides, I have a single, lonely blueberry bush that wasn't thriving in its perfect soil in a pot. It really wanted to be in the ground with plenty of access to that acidic clay. So I brought over the blueberry bush and plonked it in the center of the hole--mostly to have a place to put the dirt I was now digging out for the proper location of the box. But then I hit a rock. And suffice to say, that after digging out this rock for nearly an hour, I realized that I was simply NOT going to be able to dig out the rock. The rock was staying.
I went and got Gaye and we pondered the situation, and then reluctantly moved the box AGAIN--6 inches more to the west of the original position. At this point, the box is in place. It needs to be shored up in one spot by some of the many rocks that were dug out during the excavation, and in general, we need something to do with those rocks. We need the rest of the blueberry bushes to arrive, so we can fill in the big hole in the spot where the box didn't go, and so that the one bush we do have, doesn't look so lonely.
That said, I checked on the blueberry bush today and in spite of the fact that it was only transplanted 6 days ago, it's sporting all sorts of new growth. It almost screams, "Acidic clay!! Oh!! I'm so happy!!" It's primary rootball sits in nice organic potting soil, but in the pot it was holding way too much moisture, and with the extra moisture wicked away, I suspect it's also happier for that reason.
Anyway, I got ahead of myself because the re-digging of the box didn't happen until Tuesday. So back to Monday afternoon. I went and got the kids and then headed back home where I found an email from a law office I know.
This post is from May 27, 2007:
"Initially I was looking for temporary work, but then an opportunity for a part-time permanent position came up. It's not in education. I haven't done anything like it in years. The pay can't compare to freelancing--but it would be every week, rain or shine. I met and liked the other person in the office. I met and liked the person who would be my boss. If it doesn't come through, I don't know if I'll keep looking for something else. Freelance work, like it always does, has passed through it's difficult pause and there will soon be plenty of work again. But if offered the position, I believe I'll take it. The work would suit me, and getting a supplemental paycheck regularly would suit me, too. I would continue to freelance, but no more taking on two full-time contracts and one more part-time on the side."
There's a WHOLE lot more to the story that doesn't belong on the blog, but in this case, on Monday evening I got an email, and then a phone call, asking if I was still, possibly, maybe, interested in working there while freelancing on the side. And I said, "yes." And so, getting ahead of myself again, I went in on Wednesday and reinterviewed for the job. We'll get back to that.
I still wasn't done with Monday evening. I had a PAC meeting to go to. I went. I ran it. We had a busy conversation. I came home and crashed.
Tuesday I worked most of the day in Gaye's garden getting that box in place so that I could not think about the part-time job. In the afternoon I supervised piano practicing because the annual April recital was coming up and we needed to be ready. Chris was running a focus group for his work, so I led the 11-year-old scouts in a short lesson at the church and then they played football outside until the sun was gone.
Wednesday. Wednesday I dropped the kids off at school, ran over to Target for new pantyhose and a pair of spring shoes since the ones from last spring/summer were shot. I had about 3o minutes before the interview, so I went and got a drink because I was thirsty. And I SPILLED it on the polyester shirt I was wearing. I tried to dab it up, but it's the kind of top that immediately can't be fixed in that situation. I drove around for a few panicked moments and then felt I should go to the interview as is and look for a solution THERE.
Now, I really hit it off with my office mate/office manager there last year and we've exchanged a few emails since, so I showed her the blouse when I got there--still 10 minutes early. She lent me her white sweater. It was perfect. It completely covered the spots and I wouldn't be doing a reinactment of that Tide commercial from the Superbowl.
The interview went fine. I was offered the job. I accepted it. Friday morning we hammered out a schedule for next week. I'll be working around the schedule of the woman who has the job right now for a few weeks while she trains me. Then I can work during the hours the kids are in school.
So, anyway, the interview was Wednesday morning. I was useless for most of the rest of the day. I already knew I had the job and I was very happy. I wanted to find Gaye and tell her what had happened, but she was over at the
We went to JoAnn's and found a Gentleman Ship's Captain costume to go with the pirate costumes and bought fabric and a lot of buttons for it. Max's play was on Friday and I knew that Thursday was my only shot at sewing it together.
We headed home, picked up the kids, went to piano lessons, had dinner, and I started to cut out fabric. Around this time I got an email reminding me that some dear friends were coming through town this weekend and were spending the night Friday night. I'd totally neglected to write it down. I confessed, but it was all good, and they still came Friday night.
Thursday. Now the week starts to get interesting. I enlist the help of a friend who can sew much better than I and with her help, I get everything done except a small part along one seam, the lace, and the buttons and button holes. I head over to the school and do Reader's Theater with the 2nd graders, take the twins home, and keep sewing. Chris drops off Max at group piano, then picks him up. I think I order pizza or something. It takes me FOREVER but I finally figure out button holes.
However, button holes is the last thing my machine has sewed properly. It hasn't worked since. It jams every which way. I'm at a loss. I start sewing on seven million buttons.
Friday morning. I keep an eye out for Verizon and keep sewing on buttons. I hate sewing buttons. I keep sewing on buttons. Verizon arrives and fixes the problem. It's on their end, so no charge to me. Yay! I talk to the law office and get the schedule for next week. I finish the costume, grab all the stuff for the play, run over to the school, leave the costumes with the woman in charge of the Extended-Day Extravaganza and check the boys out of school-----to get their hair cuts. It was the only time I could do it before the piano recital!! So I just did. We went to the barber, the downtown was crazy. There was a bomb scare of some sort (turned out later to be an experimental insulin pump thing that someone accidentally left somewhere it didn't belong. It had many wires and it looked scary I guess) so they'd emptied the downtown, including the SCSCC. Gaye and I got hold of each other and we picked her up after the hair cuts and took her home. From there we went over to the church where the recital would be so they could practice on the grand piano.
This turned out to be a huge hassle. I won't go into it, but in the end we did get into the building and each boy got to practice their piece at least once on the piano they'd actually be playing on the next day.
We ran back to the school and I left the boys with Chris who'd just arrived. I went to get Gaye and we came back and were treated to a very nice show on the part of the school and the kids. From there Max and Chris went to church to watch the Lip Synch contest and I took the twins and Grandma downtown and we got her car now that the bomb scare was over.
Then the twins and I went and watched the lip synch contest. WONDERFUL! Until Sarah called to say she was on her way. I grabbed the twins and went home and started cleaning. When Chris got there he helped me with the dishes. The place didn't look great, but it looked liveable by the time they got there.
We all wanted to talk and go to sleep simultaneously. Talking won. In the morning (it is now Saturday) we talked and ate and they left an hour and a half later than they meant to. Max and the twins and I got some groceries, dropped off Max at tennis, ran another errand, picked up Max, ran home, made the kids lunch, supervised showers and recital clothing, got us all off to the recital, picked up Gaye, and then . . .
the kids played. And they each did the best they could possibly do. And it was beautiful. By the end we (Chris and I) were each in tears, even though I prayed through most of Max's pieces that he wouldn't be too nervous. Maybe it worked for he was soooo . . . . great :) Just terrific.
This is Miss Irene with some of her students, including Max, far left. He has played with her for three years now.
Here are Ben and Milo with another tiny musician:
Chris is working on the video. There will be DVD's for the grandparents.
After that we went and celebrated at Meyer's Dairy with sundae's and then stopped off at a local farm on the way home to pick up 5 dozen eggs I'd ordered.
We had Quiche Lorraine and Veggie Quiche for dinner with the missionaries--I'd signed up to feed them many weeks before I completely understood the nature of this week.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow is church, followed by a short break, and then a special "Preparing for Priesthood" get together for Max and one of the other "almost a 12-yr-old" boys.
Which is followed by a week in which I start my new part-time job, do the usual piano lessons and stuff, have the kids off from school on Thursday because of parent-teacher conferences, and then on Friday I supervise the volunteers who will be constructing the new school playground (it's just my job just to keep the volunteers happy--and there). There's a Board of Trustees mtg which I will probably have to miss as Sarah and her gang are coming back through and we really want those few hours with them again.
And a week from today? It's easy peasy! Nothing on the schedule but tennis. Oh yeah, and I teach the Relief Society lesson the next day. Well, I'll get that in there somewhere . . . .
Let's make it my goal to keep it that way. Well, only so I can get some gardening done :) Also, hopefully the lawn mower will be fixed early this week because her lawn needs mowing. She gets so much more rain and sun than we do. She already needs a mowing! We'll still have a week or two before we get there.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Photos
On Chris' blog are some new pictures of the twins. http://pupdad.blogspot.com/
They desperately need haircuts, but I wanted photos of the boys in the vests that my Aunt Charlotte made them, the vest I made Milo from the yarn my grandmother bought me, and the sweater set I made for the twinks out of the yarn Prairie Silk.
With the exception of the plain blue vest, these sweaters are now up for "hand me down" as the twins have been growing at an alarming rate. To get these photos, I did some serious blocking. They are all about a 4T/5T.
I want them to go to Moms who don't mind hand washing, who will understand that all of these will need the occasional depilling, and who will love them for me in abstentia (sp?). They are all basically wool, and fine wool at that. (The Prairie silk obviously has a high silk content, too.)
I'm willing to split up the sets. You don't have to be a relative. Although for the vests, preference will go to relatives who show interest. (And if you're a relative, you don't have to have a kid or be pregnant yet if you just promise not to make sure the item gets USED when the child is the appropriate age.)
So. Please email me with your choices. These are somewhat high maintenance clothing items by today's standards, but they will last more than one child and they are WARM and so wonderful, they can even be worn to church.
A K i n P A AT v e r i (etc.) DOT net [take out spaces and make it a real email address.]
They desperately need haircuts, but I wanted photos of the boys in the vests that my Aunt Charlotte made them, the vest I made Milo from the yarn my grandmother bought me, and the sweater set I made for the twinks out of the yarn Prairie Silk.
With the exception of the plain blue vest, these sweaters are now up for "hand me down" as the twins have been growing at an alarming rate. To get these photos, I did some serious blocking. They are all about a 4T/5T.
I want them to go to Moms who don't mind hand washing, who will understand that all of these will need the occasional depilling, and who will love them for me in abstentia (sp?). They are all basically wool, and fine wool at that. (The Prairie silk obviously has a high silk content, too.)
I'm willing to split up the sets. You don't have to be a relative. Although for the vests, preference will go to relatives who show interest. (And if you're a relative, you don't have to have a kid or be pregnant yet if you just promise not to make sure the item gets USED when the child is the appropriate age.)
So. Please email me with your choices. These are somewhat high maintenance clothing items by today's standards, but they will last more than one child and they are WARM and so wonderful, they can even be worn to church.
A K i n P A AT v e r i (etc.) DOT net [take out spaces and make it a real email address.]
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Saturday and Gardening
A quick rundown of the day:
Got up, got the family going, took firstborn to sporting good's store. Bought him a new pair of shorts that fit, bringing his total of shorts that fit up to 1. It doesn't seem like he's growing exponentially, but I bought all his clothing last year big, so I know he is. We looked at tennis rackets, with no intention of buying, but trying to get a feel of what is out there so we can compare it to what they have at the Ralleyball lesson.
As it turns out, they have pretty much the same racquets at Ralleyball. I was impressed. These things weigh a fraction of the weight I remember as a kid.
I chased ball and even hucked a few. During the actual Rally's, I kept score. Apparently, I was also getting a really great sunburn, but there was a strong breeze through the whole morning and I had no clue. Next week I go slathered in sunscreen and I look for my straw hat. It's got to be around here somewhere. I didn't know we were at that point in the season yet.
We went home, changed into fresh clothes, picked up the rest of the family at Gaye's house, dropped off Max at the practice recital, and drove out to Tait's farm, which is my source for good vegetable seeds and sometimes, good vegetables.
I bought a six-pack of broccoli and some of the veggies I was looking for.
I went home and worked in the yard. Mostly, I raked. But in the process of raking up the side yard, I decided to add a bunch of the dried grass and leaves to the compost heap. And when I got back to the compost heap . . .
A few years ago I picked up a tumbler compost bin from freecycle. The tumbler part was in good shape, but the bottom was nearly rusted out. It's in pretty much the same condition. I couldn't ever seem to get it to really WORK though. My contents mixed up just fine, but they were composting as near as I could tell. After about 6 months, I gave up. It froze, it thawed, it froze, it thawed. And sometime this winter I decided that when it did thaw again, I would scrape out the contents, hose it down, and see if a scrap metal place might want it. So today as I was adding more "brown" to my compost pile, I decided the time had come to at least scrape out the contents. I had finished raking the front and side yard and when else was I going to do it? I went and got my pitchfork and began scraping.
And discovered to my astonishment the most pitch-black, fully composted, omigosh, you-could-really-grow-something-in-this . . . material. It's very compacted and there are a few signs of dried mildew, so I don't trust it in the vegetable garden. But I have a spot along the side of the front porch where I like to grow climbing, flowering things. I have two big things whose name has escaped me since ten days after I bought them. Last summer I had morning glories and I hope to have those again this year. And this year I'm also planting sweet peas. In the past, I've grown herbs there, too. But I find that mostly I don't use them. So instead I spread out the compost there, will plant the morning glories and sweet peas in them, and then after the plants are up, will pile mulch over the whole thing. There are bulbs there that look pretty all summer (I didn't plant those) and the compost will help them, too.
Then I uprighted the old composting barrel and that's as far as I got with that. I don't have the outside spigot turned on yet and I didn't want to deal with the hose today, so I left the hosing out of it for another day.
I checked the time. Still another hour till the birthday party the twins' were attending, so I worked on my vegetable gardens in the front yard. I planted the broccoli, with some queen anne's lace around them. I left the center section of the raised bed garden empty, just cleaning it out and making note of the onions that had survived the winter (which is all of them. Apparently that's what they do.) I think at this point I just wait till they grow a bit, use them for green onions, and then when we're past the last frost date, I'm planting some beans in that spot. In the last third of the box, I again saved most of the space for beans, but planted two rows of radishes just for the fun of it.
After the raised bed, there is a spot of thinning grass about 2 ft by 4 ft, and then another garden bed where I have heavily amended the soil, but it is not actually a garden box. Early in the summer last year, I let a twink plant some "chocolate mint" in the far corner of this spot and I filled the rest of it with beans. The beans struggled as they were besieged by beetles and it took me awhile to find an organic response that gave them any real respite. But the mint took hold.
A week ago I'd pulled all the mint out of the garden bed so I could use that spot for something else, and I sort of noticed that while this was easy enough in my garden where the soil is very loose and the roots pull up in long strings, at the spot where the roots entered the native PA clay soil--those roots weren't going anywhere.
Well, after planting the radishes today I took the rake and again raked up all the leaves I'd pulled out of the garden while cleaning it up and THAT is when I saw the dozens and dozens of tiny little flowering heads peeking up out of the lawn and I realized that the mint intended to replace the grass. All of it. I was immediately alarmed and impressed. I don't really LIKE our front lawn and I'm not sure I'm completely opposed to a lawn of mint--except that it looks AWFUL over the winter. Smells good when you rake it though.
I discussed the issue with Chris later and he immediately came up with a perfect solution. So now I'm happy and the mint that has spread so far . . . gets to stay.
Then in the smaller bed I planted lettuce, red onion sets, and yellow onion sets.
Except for the beans, nearly everything else is going in the beds over at Grandma Gaye's house. We'll come back to that.
So then I ran in, jumped in the shower, jumped into clean clothes, realized I'd picked up a fantastic sunburn over the course of the day, grabbed the twinkies and went to a very noisy birthday party. I knit through most of the party, which is something because I have not been knitting as much lately.
By the time I got home I plonked the twinkies in bed and finished putting some seeds in a seed-starting mix. These are the last of the seeds I'll start indoors. And it mostly constitutes what we'll be growing this year.
The biggest difference this year is that I'm growing many few varieties of tomatoes (and honestly, fewer plants) and I'm growing more beans and gobs of flowers. The flowers are mostly to attract butterflies and birds to Gaye's yard and because the previous owner succeeded in taking reasonably good care of the least landscaped yard I have ever seen. He must really like taking care of his grass. Gaye would like a little more color. I don't blame her.
There was this big, decaying stump in the back yard, so I built a box to go around it and after I finish getting it installed (it's a big digging job), I'll show it to you. Most of this box will be a random mix of wild flowers from a bag that promises to attract butterflies and birds, but we've got a few things planted on purpose, too.
So, 2008's garden:
Veggies
Hot Peppers: Heavenly Jalapeno Hybrid, Paper Lanterns, Fatali, habaneros
Tomatoes: Mortgage Lifter, Amana Orange, Black Prince, Red German Strawberry, Granny Cantrell's German Pink, Tobolsk, and probably more volunteers from wherever the critters burried tomato seeds last fall.
Corn: I have two SU varieties and two SE varieties and after doing some fancy google-fu, it would seem this means that I *can* plant them at the same time. The SU's are Hybrid Honey & Cream and Hybrid Silver Queen. The SE's are Ruby Queen Hybrid (for which I achieved 0% germination last year, but goshdarnit, I'm going to try again) and the Sugar Pearl Hybrid
Strawberries: I totally forget. I ordered them from Gurney's and 50 plants will be arriving some time later this spring. Max and I will have like 48 hours to get them in the ground at that point.
Lettuce: Black Seeded Simpson and then whatever else I bought on a whim.
Squish: Waltham Butternut, Early Prolific Straightneck, Zucchini, Wyatt's Wonder Giant Pumpkins, New England Pie
Onions: Red and Yellow
Melons: Moon & Stars, muskmelon, Rocky Ford Muskmelon, Sugar Baby Watermelon
Beans: Sugar Sprint, Black Valentine, Trionfo Viletto (Purple Beans?), Scarlet Emperor Runner Bean
And some radishes
Flowers
Ornamental Kale
Bronze Fennel
Asclepias, Silky Formula Mix (milkweed)
Red Cored Chantenay carrots (for Eastern Black Swallowtails)
"Butterfly and Bird Mix"
and there are daffodils and hyacinths already out in Gaye's yard and I expect the daffodils to be up in my yard soon, too. The Idon'tknowwhat's that I love so much around the base of the pear tree and the sour cherry tree are done looking dead and are sending up green shoots.
And I still have about 4 hours of work left to do on raking up the back yard before I can fertilize the lawn and I'm desperate to get the boxes into Gaye's yard so they're not just standing there on top of her lawn, but I will take deep breaths and trust that it will all get done because the next seven days are packed to the gills AND I have to mail off my taxes.
So there you have it.
Got up, got the family going, took firstborn to sporting good's store. Bought him a new pair of shorts that fit, bringing his total of shorts that fit up to 1. It doesn't seem like he's growing exponentially, but I bought all his clothing last year big, so I know he is. We looked at tennis rackets, with no intention of buying, but trying to get a feel of what is out there so we can compare it to what they have at the Ralleyball lesson.
As it turns out, they have pretty much the same racquets at Ralleyball. I was impressed. These things weigh a fraction of the weight I remember as a kid.
I chased ball and even hucked a few. During the actual Rally's, I kept score. Apparently, I was also getting a really great sunburn, but there was a strong breeze through the whole morning and I had no clue. Next week I go slathered in sunscreen and I look for my straw hat. It's got to be around here somewhere. I didn't know we were at that point in the season yet.
We went home, changed into fresh clothes, picked up the rest of the family at Gaye's house, dropped off Max at the practice recital, and drove out to Tait's farm, which is my source for good vegetable seeds and sometimes, good vegetables.
I bought a six-pack of broccoli and some of the veggies I was looking for.
I went home and worked in the yard. Mostly, I raked. But in the process of raking up the side yard, I decided to add a bunch of the dried grass and leaves to the compost heap. And when I got back to the compost heap . . .
A few years ago I picked up a tumbler compost bin from freecycle. The tumbler part was in good shape, but the bottom was nearly rusted out. It's in pretty much the same condition. I couldn't ever seem to get it to really WORK though. My contents mixed up just fine, but they were composting as near as I could tell. After about 6 months, I gave up. It froze, it thawed, it froze, it thawed. And sometime this winter I decided that when it did thaw again, I would scrape out the contents, hose it down, and see if a scrap metal place might want it. So today as I was adding more "brown" to my compost pile, I decided the time had come to at least scrape out the contents. I had finished raking the front and side yard and when else was I going to do it? I went and got my pitchfork and began scraping.
And discovered to my astonishment the most pitch-black, fully composted, omigosh, you-could-really-grow-something-in-this . . . material. It's very compacted and there are a few signs of dried mildew, so I don't trust it in the vegetable garden. But I have a spot along the side of the front porch where I like to grow climbing, flowering things. I have two big things whose name has escaped me since ten days after I bought them. Last summer I had morning glories and I hope to have those again this year. And this year I'm also planting sweet peas. In the past, I've grown herbs there, too. But I find that mostly I don't use them. So instead I spread out the compost there, will plant the morning glories and sweet peas in them, and then after the plants are up, will pile mulch over the whole thing. There are bulbs there that look pretty all summer (I didn't plant those) and the compost will help them, too.
Then I uprighted the old composting barrel and that's as far as I got with that. I don't have the outside spigot turned on yet and I didn't want to deal with the hose today, so I left the hosing out of it for another day.
I checked the time. Still another hour till the birthday party the twins' were attending, so I worked on my vegetable gardens in the front yard. I planted the broccoli, with some queen anne's lace around them. I left the center section of the raised bed garden empty, just cleaning it out and making note of the onions that had survived the winter (which is all of them. Apparently that's what they do.) I think at this point I just wait till they grow a bit, use them for green onions, and then when we're past the last frost date, I'm planting some beans in that spot. In the last third of the box, I again saved most of the space for beans, but planted two rows of radishes just for the fun of it.
After the raised bed, there is a spot of thinning grass about 2 ft by 4 ft, and then another garden bed where I have heavily amended the soil, but it is not actually a garden box. Early in the summer last year, I let a twink plant some "chocolate mint" in the far corner of this spot and I filled the rest of it with beans. The beans struggled as they were besieged by beetles and it took me awhile to find an organic response that gave them any real respite. But the mint took hold.
A week ago I'd pulled all the mint out of the garden bed so I could use that spot for something else, and I sort of noticed that while this was easy enough in my garden where the soil is very loose and the roots pull up in long strings, at the spot where the roots entered the native PA clay soil--those roots weren't going anywhere.
Well, after planting the radishes today I took the rake and again raked up all the leaves I'd pulled out of the garden while cleaning it up and THAT is when I saw the dozens and dozens of tiny little flowering heads peeking up out of the lawn and I realized that the mint intended to replace the grass. All of it. I was immediately alarmed and impressed. I don't really LIKE our front lawn and I'm not sure I'm completely opposed to a lawn of mint--except that it looks AWFUL over the winter. Smells good when you rake it though.
I discussed the issue with Chris later and he immediately came up with a perfect solution. So now I'm happy and the mint that has spread so far . . . gets to stay.
Then in the smaller bed I planted lettuce, red onion sets, and yellow onion sets.
Except for the beans, nearly everything else is going in the beds over at Grandma Gaye's house. We'll come back to that.
So then I ran in, jumped in the shower, jumped into clean clothes, realized I'd picked up a fantastic sunburn over the course of the day, grabbed the twinkies and went to a very noisy birthday party. I knit through most of the party, which is something because I have not been knitting as much lately.
By the time I got home I plonked the twinkies in bed and finished putting some seeds in a seed-starting mix. These are the last of the seeds I'll start indoors. And it mostly constitutes what we'll be growing this year.
The biggest difference this year is that I'm growing many few varieties of tomatoes (and honestly, fewer plants) and I'm growing more beans and gobs of flowers. The flowers are mostly to attract butterflies and birds to Gaye's yard and because the previous owner succeeded in taking reasonably good care of the least landscaped yard I have ever seen. He must really like taking care of his grass. Gaye would like a little more color. I don't blame her.
There was this big, decaying stump in the back yard, so I built a box to go around it and after I finish getting it installed (it's a big digging job), I'll show it to you. Most of this box will be a random mix of wild flowers from a bag that promises to attract butterflies and birds, but we've got a few things planted on purpose, too.
So, 2008's garden:
Veggies
Hot Peppers: Heavenly Jalapeno Hybrid, Paper Lanterns, Fatali, habaneros
Tomatoes: Mortgage Lifter, Amana Orange, Black Prince, Red German Strawberry, Granny Cantrell's German Pink, Tobolsk, and probably more volunteers from wherever the critters burried tomato seeds last fall.
Corn: I have two SU varieties and two SE varieties and after doing some fancy google-fu, it would seem this means that I *can* plant them at the same time. The SU's are Hybrid Honey & Cream and Hybrid Silver Queen. The SE's are Ruby Queen Hybrid (for which I achieved 0% germination last year, but goshdarnit, I'm going to try again) and the Sugar Pearl Hybrid
Strawberries: I totally forget. I ordered them from Gurney's and 50 plants will be arriving some time later this spring. Max and I will have like 48 hours to get them in the ground at that point.
Lettuce: Black Seeded Simpson and then whatever else I bought on a whim.
Squish: Waltham Butternut, Early Prolific Straightneck, Zucchini, Wyatt's Wonder Giant Pumpkins, New England Pie
Onions: Red and Yellow
Melons: Moon & Stars, muskmelon, Rocky Ford Muskmelon, Sugar Baby Watermelon
Beans: Sugar Sprint, Black Valentine, Trionfo Viletto (Purple Beans?), Scarlet Emperor Runner Bean
And some radishes
Flowers
Ornamental Kale
Bronze Fennel
Asclepias, Silky Formula Mix (milkweed)
Red Cored Chantenay carrots (for Eastern Black Swallowtails)
"Butterfly and Bird Mix"
and there are daffodils and hyacinths already out in Gaye's yard and I expect the daffodils to be up in my yard soon, too. The Idon'tknowwhat's that I love so much around the base of the pear tree and the sour cherry tree are done looking dead and are sending up green shoots.
And I still have about 4 hours of work left to do on raking up the back yard before I can fertilize the lawn and I'm desperate to get the boxes into Gaye's yard so they're not just standing there on top of her lawn, but I will take deep breaths and trust that it will all get done because the next seven days are packed to the gills AND I have to mail off my taxes.
So there you have it.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Friday
I think what I was supposed to do today was rake the yard at my house in the morning and then go help out at Gaye's in the afternoon, but I got wrapped around the axle in the morning working on job applications and by the time I got back from spending the check I got for teaching those knitting classes back in February, I barely got a quarter of the front yard raked before it started to rain.
So I worked on laundry and dishes and picking up around the house and the next thing I knew it was time to go pick up the kids. I brought them back home and worked on more housework, and then it was dinner time and now suddenly it's 9pm. How does that happen?
Tomorrow Max and I have tennis from 10:30 till noon and then a make-up group piano lesson from 1 to 2pm. After that, I'm not sure. I need to keep on the laundry and the house cleaning before it gets away from me again, but I also need to make more progress raking--and at the same time, it's supposed to rain tomorrow.
I shouldn't worry. I don't have work for Monday and Tuesday and although the rest of the week gets progressively crazier--I don't have workwork then either. There should be enough time to finish Spring Cleaning at both houses and get the lawn raked and fertilized at my house and finish installing the flower box at Gaye's house.
That's what I keep telling myself anyway. What am I racing? I guess part of it is that I want to be ready to jump into a full-time job if it calls. Part of it is . . . I don't know really. It's spring and maybe I secretly believe that if I get all the vegetable beds ready and the lawns growing well that will make it late spring earlier. As I was pondering the fact that I was completely helpless to NOT buy another packet of corn seeds in the face of finding a variety I can never find anywhere else, in spite of the fact that it will mean some complicated timing on the part of corn planting because the four varieties of corn I have now can't be polinating within three weeks of each other (that's better than it sounds. It's two sets of SU corn and two sets of SE(?) corn. Each set can be planted at the same time, but the two sets can't be planted at the same time.
I lost total control of that sentence. My point is that I guess the gardener in me just can't be reasoned with sometimes. I find myself driving along, wondering if I should go ahead and put lime on the lawns this year. You have to do that sometimes with clay soil. I need to get the lawn mowers to the machine shop for sharpening and maintenance. I want to go ahead and put in some onions and I wonder how much longer before Tait farm will have broccoli. It'll probably be awhile yet.
But tomorrow is all about getting Max off to a good start in tennis and then if the weather cooperates, getting more raking done. Chris will head over to Gaye's and help her hand pictures and move a small dresser and mirror from her place to ours so Max's room can, maybe, be a little tidier.
Wish us luck in tennis.
So I worked on laundry and dishes and picking up around the house and the next thing I knew it was time to go pick up the kids. I brought them back home and worked on more housework, and then it was dinner time and now suddenly it's 9pm. How does that happen?
Tomorrow Max and I have tennis from 10:30 till noon and then a make-up group piano lesson from 1 to 2pm. After that, I'm not sure. I need to keep on the laundry and the house cleaning before it gets away from me again, but I also need to make more progress raking--and at the same time, it's supposed to rain tomorrow.
I shouldn't worry. I don't have work for Monday and Tuesday and although the rest of the week gets progressively crazier--I don't have workwork then either. There should be enough time to finish Spring Cleaning at both houses and get the lawn raked and fertilized at my house and finish installing the flower box at Gaye's house.
That's what I keep telling myself anyway. What am I racing? I guess part of it is that I want to be ready to jump into a full-time job if it calls. Part of it is . . . I don't know really. It's spring and maybe I secretly believe that if I get all the vegetable beds ready and the lawns growing well that will make it late spring earlier. As I was pondering the fact that I was completely helpless to NOT buy another packet of corn seeds in the face of finding a variety I can never find anywhere else, in spite of the fact that it will mean some complicated timing on the part of corn planting because the four varieties of corn I have now can't be polinating within three weeks of each other (that's better than it sounds. It's two sets of SU corn and two sets of SE(?) corn. Each set can be planted at the same time, but the two sets can't be planted at the same time.
I lost total control of that sentence. My point is that I guess the gardener in me just can't be reasoned with sometimes. I find myself driving along, wondering if I should go ahead and put lime on the lawns this year. You have to do that sometimes with clay soil. I need to get the lawn mowers to the machine shop for sharpening and maintenance. I want to go ahead and put in some onions and I wonder how much longer before Tait farm will have broccoli. It'll probably be awhile yet.
But tomorrow is all about getting Max off to a good start in tennis and then if the weather cooperates, getting more raking done. Chris will head over to Gaye's and help her hand pictures and move a small dresser and mirror from her place to ours so Max's room can, maybe, be a little tidier.
Wish us luck in tennis.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Alright
Now, I know y'all know I can't spell my way out of a paper sack, but despite that, I do usually manage to catch the most glaring errors before hitting "publish." In the event I accidentally make a typo--such as hitting the U instead of the I (they're right next to each other on the keyboard)--resulting in a word that doesn't exist . . . it's okay to help me out in the comments.
I wanted to blog but now that I'm in front of the keyboard I'm feeling shy. So maybe I'll try to come at the topic from a different angle than I originally pictured. (Chris says, "You're going to try to sneak up on yourself?")
Since Chris started attending church with me, things have changed a lot for me spiritually. It started in some superficial ways. First of all, he's so much better than I am at learning names and relationships. He'll meet a guy and remember his name, match him up to his wife, know which kids are his, and even remember the name of most of the kids. I'm lucky if I remember that I met the guy before. It's not that I'm an idiot. I think it's half character-defect, half genuinely poor memory for names. What I mean by character defect is that ironically I happen to believe that NOT learning the names of the people you meet is basically revealing that at some level you don't care about them. And when I'm really stressed out and in survival mode, I guess that's fair. I can't deal with new people, so I don't. But when Chris started attending and he was learning names left and right, I felt pushed to keep up. I mean, I didn't want him talking about how great so-and-so was and how neat his son was and I didn't have a clue who Chris was talking about. Chris has is a good judge of character. I started coming out of my shell a bit and doing better at learning names.
And that led to me feeling closer to the ward and being less willing to miss the occasional meeting.
And that led to me hearing many more talks and Sunday School lessons and Relief Society lessons.
And that led to me making some changes at home. Finally having regular prayers at dinner. The occasional Family Home Evening. Subscribing to the Ensign and the Friend again.
Actually reading them.
Cracking the scriptures from time to time. Reading the lesson ahead of time more often. Participating a lot in the lessons. Bearing my testimony from time to time. I'd been paying tithing and sticking to the Word of Wisdom since before Chris started attending, but these things got easier.
I really LOVE my church, love my faith. I think being a Latter Day Saint rocks. But I also felt chronically behind and like I would NEVER catch up. I'd never be much GOOD at being LDS. And that feeling of being grateful for being welcomed back into the fold after . . . everything . . . I felt I would always feel in debt.
When Chris decided to get baptized, I didn't think I could feel much more grateful. It was like finding out that I was pregnant with twins again--God's mercy went so far beyond what I deserved.
Then at some point . . . maybe it was February? I missed the actual meeting. The Relief Society set the goal to read the Book of Mormon by October's General Conference meeting. I started three weeks after the kick-off date, but their pace was so reasonable, that by reading ten pages a day for about ten days I was caught up.
I've read the Book of Mormon cover to cover before. I did it before I got baptized and I did it again about a year later. Like, maybe, everyone, I struggled to understand it all. When President Hinkley issued the challenge to read the Book of Mormon a couple years ago, I didn't make it all the way through. I got close, but not all the way through.
But this time is sooo different. Maybe it's just that with Chris' support, I have a better connection with the Spirit and so . . . things make more sense. Maybe it's because it's my fifth time through this section of the book. Maybe it's because I'm older, wiser. Maybe it's because I only have to read a chapter or two a day and I'm finding it less of a problem to make the time to read carefully. Maybe it's because I don't let more than one day go by if I must miss a reading. Maybe it's a combination of all of those things.
But a few key points of doctrine are imbedding themselves in my heart this time in a way they haven't in the past. I am accepting Christ's atonement--with deep gratitude--but not resisting it the way I used to. I used to think, not consciously, but at some level, that maybe I could take back my sins upon myself and suffer for them myself so he wouldn't have to. But that's not the plan of salvation, and to do so is to not understand the nature of the atonement--and the importance of, well, all the details. His innocence, for example. It's my job to repent, but not to get stuck in any particular part of it, either. There's nothing edifying about getting stuck in feeling horrible about something.
It's not just that I'm enjoying the Book of Mormon and that I'm enjoying being able to keep up with the others reading it--I really look forward to that time to read each day. It's not as hard to remember to pray. I do so more reflexively.
Chris gets frustrated because his own spiritual progression--well, it's his. And he's a guy who learns things easily and masters new skills quickly and spiritual matters, they're just different. They're not like that.
But I feel like the distance he has gone--the questions he has asked and the basic things he has done to make sure we all get to church on time every Sunday--these have paid dividends for me that I don't take for granted. There is really something to the FACT that every step he takes on his journey moves us both forward. It's much more powerful than I ever expected. Not the superficial stuff (like me now knowing my own ward soooo much better) but the deep stuff. The places where fundamental change occur. And I'm grateful because I have wanted those changes, but I just couldn't get here without him.
And that is all I have to say about that.
I wanted to blog but now that I'm in front of the keyboard I'm feeling shy. So maybe I'll try to come at the topic from a different angle than I originally pictured. (Chris says, "You're going to try to sneak up on yourself?")
Since Chris started attending church with me, things have changed a lot for me spiritually. It started in some superficial ways. First of all, he's so much better than I am at learning names and relationships. He'll meet a guy and remember his name, match him up to his wife, know which kids are his, and even remember the name of most of the kids. I'm lucky if I remember that I met the guy before. It's not that I'm an idiot. I think it's half character-defect, half genuinely poor memory for names. What I mean by character defect is that ironically I happen to believe that NOT learning the names of the people you meet is basically revealing that at some level you don't care about them. And when I'm really stressed out and in survival mode, I guess that's fair. I can't deal with new people, so I don't. But when Chris started attending and he was learning names left and right, I felt pushed to keep up. I mean, I didn't want him talking about how great so-and-so was and how neat his son was and I didn't have a clue who Chris was talking about. Chris has is a good judge of character. I started coming out of my shell a bit and doing better at learning names.
And that led to me feeling closer to the ward and being less willing to miss the occasional meeting.
And that led to me hearing many more talks and Sunday School lessons and Relief Society lessons.
And that led to me making some changes at home. Finally having regular prayers at dinner. The occasional Family Home Evening. Subscribing to the Ensign and the Friend again.
Actually reading them.
Cracking the scriptures from time to time. Reading the lesson ahead of time more often. Participating a lot in the lessons. Bearing my testimony from time to time. I'd been paying tithing and sticking to the Word of Wisdom since before Chris started attending, but these things got easier.
I really LOVE my church, love my faith. I think being a Latter Day Saint rocks. But I also felt chronically behind and like I would NEVER catch up. I'd never be much GOOD at being LDS. And that feeling of being grateful for being welcomed back into the fold after . . . everything . . . I felt I would always feel in debt.
When Chris decided to get baptized, I didn't think I could feel much more grateful. It was like finding out that I was pregnant with twins again--God's mercy went so far beyond what I deserved.
Then at some point . . . maybe it was February? I missed the actual meeting. The Relief Society set the goal to read the Book of Mormon by October's General Conference meeting. I started three weeks after the kick-off date, but their pace was so reasonable, that by reading ten pages a day for about ten days I was caught up.
I've read the Book of Mormon cover to cover before. I did it before I got baptized and I did it again about a year later. Like, maybe, everyone, I struggled to understand it all. When President Hinkley issued the challenge to read the Book of Mormon a couple years ago, I didn't make it all the way through. I got close, but not all the way through.
But this time is sooo different. Maybe it's just that with Chris' support, I have a better connection with the Spirit and so . . . things make more sense. Maybe it's because it's my fifth time through this section of the book. Maybe it's because I'm older, wiser. Maybe it's because I only have to read a chapter or two a day and I'm finding it less of a problem to make the time to read carefully. Maybe it's because I don't let more than one day go by if I must miss a reading. Maybe it's a combination of all of those things.
But a few key points of doctrine are imbedding themselves in my heart this time in a way they haven't in the past. I am accepting Christ's atonement--with deep gratitude--but not resisting it the way I used to. I used to think, not consciously, but at some level, that maybe I could take back my sins upon myself and suffer for them myself so he wouldn't have to. But that's not the plan of salvation, and to do so is to not understand the nature of the atonement--and the importance of, well, all the details. His innocence, for example. It's my job to repent, but not to get stuck in any particular part of it, either. There's nothing edifying about getting stuck in feeling horrible about something.
It's not just that I'm enjoying the Book of Mormon and that I'm enjoying being able to keep up with the others reading it--I really look forward to that time to read each day. It's not as hard to remember to pray. I do so more reflexively.
Chris gets frustrated because his own spiritual progression--well, it's his. And he's a guy who learns things easily and masters new skills quickly and spiritual matters, they're just different. They're not like that.
But I feel like the distance he has gone--the questions he has asked and the basic things he has done to make sure we all get to church on time every Sunday--these have paid dividends for me that I don't take for granted. There is really something to the FACT that every step he takes on his journey moves us both forward. It's much more powerful than I ever expected. Not the superficial stuff (like me now knowing my own ward soooo much better) but the deep stuff. The places where fundamental change occur. And I'm grateful because I have wanted those changes, but I just couldn't get here without him.
And that is all I have to say about that.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Speaking Out Against Injustice
I had to do a bunch of Chair of the PAC type things this morning. I sang Happy Birthday to the school secretary, I hung up a sign encouraging people to get involved in the playground construction, I posted the proposed agenda for the April meeting, I gave the school secretary the April meeting notices to go home in backpacks . . .
Max and the twinks were playing in the gym with the other early kids initially, but as I went to the back door where half the parents pick up their kids later in the day (so I have to post all my signs twice) I noticed him hanging out in the hall, in a small space between his locker and the door. He was looking downcast and--well, a mom knows when all is not well.
I asked him what was wrong and he said that another student (one he considers a friend usually) called him a Spaz, which he thinks means the same as Retard. His feelings were deeply hurt and he was deeply discouraged by the fact that since (student name) had come to the class, she'd introduced all kinds of new put downs to the class. Before said student arrived, this small group of sheltered Charter School and post-homeschool kids hadn't known you could hurt each other with names like "gay, retard, faggot," and a few other choice putdowns I can no longer recall in this moment. He said, "I didn't expect to hear words like this until maybe 8th grade or high school!"
Max's teacher is out. She's very sick and apparently anemic, too. But his assistant teacher was there--a man who I can't quite figure out. But I'm pretty sure that at some point in his life, he's been called some of those names, too. (Haven't we all?)
He was right around the corner, so I led Max to the classroom and I said simply, "Say again to Mr. W what you said to me." And Max did, pretty much word-for-word. I emphasized that he (Max) needed to let go of the WHO brought the words in the classroom. If many students were using the words, then the words now belonged to the voice of the classroom. We three talked about how we might speak to the classroom about how hurtful these words are, how small the class is, how long they'll be together until graduation. There's only one class till graduation. There's no shuffling and getting away from another student. The class needs to choose as a group to speak to each other in non-hurtful ways.
And I also gently let Max know that he was going to probably have to develop a slightly thicker skin. "But not too thick," I said to him, giving him a hug. "No," said Mr. W, "We don't want to change the sweet kid you fundamentally are."
So hopefully Mr. W will host that conversation with the kids. And hopefully their hearts will soften and they will hear the words that he says and know in their hearts that they CAN be kinder to each other and that their own happiness lies in choosing positive ways to talk to each other.
Pray for his class. They really are a sweet group with a couple of kids who just entered the Charter school scene this year and arrived a little . . . hardened. Pray that they will have this conversation and that it will bring them closer and that it will help them appreciate Max more--not cause him greater grief.
Max and the twinks were playing in the gym with the other early kids initially, but as I went to the back door where half the parents pick up their kids later in the day (so I have to post all my signs twice) I noticed him hanging out in the hall, in a small space between his locker and the door. He was looking downcast and--well, a mom knows when all is not well.
I asked him what was wrong and he said that another student (one he considers a friend usually) called him a Spaz, which he thinks means the same as Retard. His feelings were deeply hurt and he was deeply discouraged by the fact that since (student name) had come to the class, she'd introduced all kinds of new put downs to the class. Before said student arrived, this small group of sheltered Charter School and post-homeschool kids hadn't known you could hurt each other with names like "gay, retard, faggot," and a few other choice putdowns I can no longer recall in this moment. He said, "I didn't expect to hear words like this until maybe 8th grade or high school!"
Max's teacher is out. She's very sick and apparently anemic, too. But his assistant teacher was there--a man who I can't quite figure out. But I'm pretty sure that at some point in his life, he's been called some of those names, too. (Haven't we all?)
He was right around the corner, so I led Max to the classroom and I said simply, "Say again to Mr. W what you said to me." And Max did, pretty much word-for-word. I emphasized that he (Max) needed to let go of the WHO brought the words in the classroom. If many students were using the words, then the words now belonged to the voice of the classroom. We three talked about how we might speak to the classroom about how hurtful these words are, how small the class is, how long they'll be together until graduation. There's only one class till graduation. There's no shuffling and getting away from another student. The class needs to choose as a group to speak to each other in non-hurtful ways.
And I also gently let Max know that he was going to probably have to develop a slightly thicker skin. "But not too thick," I said to him, giving him a hug. "No," said Mr. W, "We don't want to change the sweet kid you fundamentally are."
So hopefully Mr. W will host that conversation with the kids. And hopefully their hearts will soften and they will hear the words that he says and know in their hearts that they CAN be kinder to each other and that their own happiness lies in choosing positive ways to talk to each other.
Pray for his class. They really are a sweet group with a couple of kids who just entered the Charter school scene this year and arrived a little . . . hardened. Pray that they will have this conversation and that it will bring them closer and that it will help them appreciate Max more--not cause him greater grief.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Where to Start?
It was General Conference weekend and so Saturday I worked and worked and worked and listened to the talks on my computer. I was supposed to take Ben and Milo to a classmates' birthday party but totally lost track of time. Omigosh, I felt so awful. We got there in time to give him his presents but the boys--all of them, really, were crushed. A friend from church took the twins back to her place so they could play with her daughter for a couple of hours. I went home and had dinner with Chris and Max, went to get the twins, and then came home and worked again until 2am.
That's how it is with this job. You work and work and work and work and then . . . wait 6 to 8 weeks to get paid and then weather ANOTHER work slowdown.
So. The resumes are out. I am slogging my way through my certification paperwork so I can at least sub. I have some good leads and a few people in my corner to help me this time around. I have loved having the flexibility of my job the last 9 years and I was/am good at it. But I think I've come to the point with it where it's not worth it and I just want something more. I'm happier doing Reader's Theater on Thursday afternoons for nothing--and that's with second graders. I'm not notoriously at my best with the 3rd grade and under crowd.
After talking to the wrong people at Penn State, I happened to mention to the Vice-Principal at the charter school that I was hoping to pick up an ESL certificate and she referred me to the local Ed office. I can do this as continuing ed! That makes like $9,000 less. For about $1,000 I finish the course work for it. And I can do a bunch of it online.
This past week for me was a blur of kids activities and canning beans and working and job hunting and I'm expecting more of the same for the upcoming week--except that the weather is supposed to be better, so I'm hoping to get some yard work done.
Today was a very nice watching General Conference at Gaye's house and then having burritos for dinner and then . . . and then it was bedtime. And that is all I get to write tonight for now it is bedtime already for me, too.
That's how it is with this job. You work and work and work and work and then . . . wait 6 to 8 weeks to get paid and then weather ANOTHER work slowdown.
So. The resumes are out. I am slogging my way through my certification paperwork so I can at least sub. I have some good leads and a few people in my corner to help me this time around. I have loved having the flexibility of my job the last 9 years and I was/am good at it. But I think I've come to the point with it where it's not worth it and I just want something more. I'm happier doing Reader's Theater on Thursday afternoons for nothing--and that's with second graders. I'm not notoriously at my best with the 3rd grade and under crowd.
After talking to the wrong people at Penn State, I happened to mention to the Vice-Principal at the charter school that I was hoping to pick up an ESL certificate and she referred me to the local Ed office. I can do this as continuing ed! That makes like $9,000 less. For about $1,000 I finish the course work for it. And I can do a bunch of it online.
This past week for me was a blur of kids activities and canning beans and working and job hunting and I'm expecting more of the same for the upcoming week--except that the weather is supposed to be better, so I'm hoping to get some yard work done.
Today was a very nice watching General Conference at Gaye's house and then having burritos for dinner and then . . . and then it was bedtime. And that is all I get to write tonight for now it is bedtime already for me, too.
So Much to Update
Well, I thought I'd have time for a quick update here before we head off to Gaye's house to watch the Sunday morning of General Conference, but I really don't have time, so I'll have to do that when I get back. I'm sort of writing this to hold myself accountable.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Tuesday Evening Update
I'm up to my neck in workwork, so I'll just post that there are two families genuinely interested in the Blue Truck and both would give it a good home. So that's hopeful.
I jotted down this bit earlier today:
Paper Lantern
This tender shoot is bowed double,
both ends buried under the dirt
in which its seed is buried.
Tomorrow one end will have broken free
reaching for the light strung up just inches above it.
This isn’t real summer.
This is a false summer of heating mats
and grow lights and green house plastic
to hold in the humidity.
36 plugs of dirt and this is the first shoot,
the first glowing green rising
just 2 mm above the soil,
but under the lights I couldn’t miss it.
One glimpse and the whole summer stretches before me.
I can suddenly see heavily burdened tomato plants
and wild climbing beans, butterfly bushes,
squash plants run wild, watermelons creeping toward the house.
I feel bent double myself under the weight of a car payment
and work deadlines and a kitchen that never gets clean,
but I see that tender shoot and smile.
She will be free of the dirt and I will be free of the debt.
She’s a Paper Lantern--a 5 out of 5 on the hot pepper scale.
She may be bent double, vulnerable today,
but come September she’ll make one hot taco.
I jotted down this bit earlier today:
Paper Lantern
This tender shoot is bowed double,
both ends buried under the dirt
in which its seed is buried.
Tomorrow one end will have broken free
reaching for the light strung up just inches above it.
This isn’t real summer.
This is a false summer of heating mats
and grow lights and green house plastic
to hold in the humidity.
36 plugs of dirt and this is the first shoot,
the first glowing green rising
just 2 mm above the soil,
but under the lights I couldn’t miss it.
One glimpse and the whole summer stretches before me.
I can suddenly see heavily burdened tomato plants
and wild climbing beans, butterfly bushes,
squash plants run wild, watermelons creeping toward the house.
I feel bent double myself under the weight of a car payment
and work deadlines and a kitchen that never gets clean,
but I see that tender shoot and smile.
She will be free of the dirt and I will be free of the debt.
She’s a Paper Lantern--a 5 out of 5 on the hot pepper scale.
She may be bent double, vulnerable today,
but come September she’ll make one hot taco.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Because I Really Need It to Sell THIS WEEK
Dear Blue Truck,
I know you don't want to go, and I totally understand why. We made your life meaningful. You seat 8, and I could come up with 8 people to sit in you on a regular basis. You have a removable third-row of seating and I really appreciated how easy that was to remove. I never had any trouble finding things to fit in the back either. You drove all the kids and two dogs from CA to PA and the only ongoing quirk you developed was to insist you didn't have any oil pressure until after you'd warmed up in very cold weather. Your leather seats were easy to clean. Your VHS player--played vhs movies. You entertained my twins when noone else could. You were hard to park--but easy to drive because I could see around and over everything. You pulled trailers and hauled sleds and waited patiently between deep cleanings.
But hon, you're a Ford Expedition and my gas budget can't take it anymore. We bought you used, for a good price, but promptly moved to a part of the country with a much lower cost of living and we've been upside-down ever since. I've made payments on you for over three years and I just can't afford two more years of this, even though I'm pretty sure I've now paid all the interest on the loan. Your monthly payment stands between me and peace of mind. This month, your monthly payment and your brake repair bill stood between me and the mortgage payment.
I'm sorry. You have to go. I'm sure you'll find another family! You'll find someone with more kids--who can't fit in a Taurus no matter what they do. They'll need your leather seats and 23 cup holders just as much as we did. They'll love that their 8-yr-old Blues Clues tapes still play in your machine and entertain the triplets in the way back.
They won't love the gas mileage, but just like we did for so long--they'll forgive you for meeting so many other needs.
So please. Keep it together. You've always been such a surprisingly dependable truck. Stand up straight. You're going to get a bath and vacuuming of your carpet. You'll be febreezed within an inch of your life. You'll look good, smell good--show them how great you really are, and try to get yourself sold before your registration is up in ten days. You'll love your new family and they'll love you; Buck up, Trucky Truck. Your future is still ahead of you, but it's not here.
I know you don't want to go, and I totally understand why. We made your life meaningful. You seat 8, and I could come up with 8 people to sit in you on a regular basis. You have a removable third-row of seating and I really appreciated how easy that was to remove. I never had any trouble finding things to fit in the back either. You drove all the kids and two dogs from CA to PA and the only ongoing quirk you developed was to insist you didn't have any oil pressure until after you'd warmed up in very cold weather. Your leather seats were easy to clean. Your VHS player--played vhs movies. You entertained my twins when noone else could. You were hard to park--but easy to drive because I could see around and over everything. You pulled trailers and hauled sleds and waited patiently between deep cleanings.
But hon, you're a Ford Expedition and my gas budget can't take it anymore. We bought you used, for a good price, but promptly moved to a part of the country with a much lower cost of living and we've been upside-down ever since. I've made payments on you for over three years and I just can't afford two more years of this, even though I'm pretty sure I've now paid all the interest on the loan. Your monthly payment stands between me and peace of mind. This month, your monthly payment and your brake repair bill stood between me and the mortgage payment.
I'm sorry. You have to go. I'm sure you'll find another family! You'll find someone with more kids--who can't fit in a Taurus no matter what they do. They'll need your leather seats and 23 cup holders just as much as we did. They'll love that their 8-yr-old Blues Clues tapes still play in your machine and entertain the triplets in the way back.
They won't love the gas mileage, but just like we did for so long--they'll forgive you for meeting so many other needs.So please. Keep it together. You've always been such a surprisingly dependable truck. Stand up straight. You're going to get a bath and vacuuming of your carpet. You'll be febreezed within an inch of your life. You'll look good, smell good--show them how great you really are, and try to get yourself sold before your registration is up in ten days. You'll love your new family and they'll love you; Buck up, Trucky Truck. Your future is still ahead of you, but it's not here.
Friday, March 21, 2008
In Like a Lion, Still Pretty Lion Like
I wanted to do a quick blog entry this evening, but I also want to get to bed pretty soon, so I'm keeping myself honest by blogging with the laptop on battery. It's not a new battery, so that should give me, oh, ten minutes maybe.
I don't have any new photos to add. I'd like to get Max's hair cut in the morning so that Chris can take a portrait of him in his orange sweater--so I can post that. We'll see.
This week was very slow for workwork. I finally picked up a project today that will keep me busy through next week, but in the meantime, I spent the week doing spring cleaning. The kind where you think you'll just put away the clean clothes and then the next thing you know you've reorganized your half of the closet and filled two trash bags for Goodwill. The twins' room is clean, the living room is clean, the kitchen--well, I've kept the kitchen in near constant use and half of it's remaining "free" space is now housing the green house and it's hotpepper seedlings--so it doesn't look much better than normal. But it has moments of looking better.
Last night the twins' kindergarten teacher called and asked if she could do a home visit. Since my house is rarely clean, I jumped at the chance to have her come when it wouldn't totally mortify me. I don't really get why the school pushes the teachers to do home visits. I know they do, and I know the teachers do them, but I don't get them. We didn't sit down and discuss anything. She came and the twins gave her a tour of their bedroom. (Which is pretty sparse. All their toys are downstairs. All their books are on the bookshelves in the living room.) Emily wanted desperately to lick her all over, but I wouldn't let her. The twins invited Kg Teacher out to the back yard to play on their swingset. So they went out there and talked and talked and talked. Emily and I got bored supervising, so I went and found a tennis ball for Emily and I hucked it for her and she brought it back until at last she collapsed happily in a heap of old leaves. Wonder how many fleas she picked up.
Then Kg Teacher said a happy goodbye and I brought the twins over to Gaye's house to color eggs. Too many cooks spoil the broth, even in a kitchen twice the size of mine, so I let Gaye oversee that and the three boys dyed eggs with G'ma while I attacked the WAY overgrown bushes along Gaye's back perimeter with a saw and pruning shears. Two bushes came down altogether. The other two were savagely pruned back. But I think they may look nice when they recover. I'll have to stick a fertilizer stick in the ground near them. And find out when brush collection is. The resulting twigs take up a lot more room than the original bushes ever did.
We get a snowstorm tonight bringing, oh, not a lot of snow. But enough to remind us that winter doesn't give up that easily here at 1,000 ft above sea level. I'm thinking about putting the winter boots in the attic this weekend anyway. Take that, snow.
I spent two hours at another Board of Trustees meeting for the school tonight and I wasn't disappointed. I enjoy them in a really geeky way and I will probably keep attending them occasionally next year when it's not even my job to do so anymore.
And that is the end of my battery.
I don't have any new photos to add. I'd like to get Max's hair cut in the morning so that Chris can take a portrait of him in his orange sweater--so I can post that. We'll see.
This week was very slow for workwork. I finally picked up a project today that will keep me busy through next week, but in the meantime, I spent the week doing spring cleaning. The kind where you think you'll just put away the clean clothes and then the next thing you know you've reorganized your half of the closet and filled two trash bags for Goodwill. The twins' room is clean, the living room is clean, the kitchen--well, I've kept the kitchen in near constant use and half of it's remaining "free" space is now housing the green house and it's hotpepper seedlings--so it doesn't look much better than normal. But it has moments of looking better.
Last night the twins' kindergarten teacher called and asked if she could do a home visit. Since my house is rarely clean, I jumped at the chance to have her come when it wouldn't totally mortify me. I don't really get why the school pushes the teachers to do home visits. I know they do, and I know the teachers do them, but I don't get them. We didn't sit down and discuss anything. She came and the twins gave her a tour of their bedroom. (Which is pretty sparse. All their toys are downstairs. All their books are on the bookshelves in the living room.) Emily wanted desperately to lick her all over, but I wouldn't let her. The twins invited Kg Teacher out to the back yard to play on their swingset. So they went out there and talked and talked and talked. Emily and I got bored supervising, so I went and found a tennis ball for Emily and I hucked it for her and she brought it back until at last she collapsed happily in a heap of old leaves. Wonder how many fleas she picked up.
Then Kg Teacher said a happy goodbye and I brought the twins over to Gaye's house to color eggs. Too many cooks spoil the broth, even in a kitchen twice the size of mine, so I let Gaye oversee that and the three boys dyed eggs with G'ma while I attacked the WAY overgrown bushes along Gaye's back perimeter with a saw and pruning shears. Two bushes came down altogether. The other two were savagely pruned back. But I think they may look nice when they recover. I'll have to stick a fertilizer stick in the ground near them. And find out when brush collection is. The resulting twigs take up a lot more room than the original bushes ever did.
We get a snowstorm tonight bringing, oh, not a lot of snow. But enough to remind us that winter doesn't give up that easily here at 1,000 ft above sea level. I'm thinking about putting the winter boots in the attic this weekend anyway. Take that, snow.
I spent two hours at another Board of Trustees meeting for the school tonight and I wasn't disappointed. I enjoy them in a really geeky way and I will probably keep attending them occasionally next year when it's not even my job to do so anymore.
And that is the end of my battery.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
For Now . . .
This is just a teaser until Chris can take a photo of Max IN the sweater.
Yarn: Cotton Fleece by Brown Sheep Company
Pattern: Orange Twist by Marie Grace with some modifications including cables from Viking Patterns to Knit
Size 40"
It's a good bit too big on the boy and he loves it that way. It looks pretty good on me, actually. Luckily, it's bright orange. So it's totally his.
Yarn: Cotton Fleece by Brown Sheep Company
Pattern: Orange Twist by Marie Grace with some modifications including cables from Viking Patterns to Knit
Size 40"
It's a good bit too big on the boy and he loves it that way. It looks pretty good on me, actually. Luckily, it's bright orange. So it's totally his.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Emily and Earl
Emily has a profound need to chase balls and squirrels. They are, apparently, her reason for living (other than loving us, of course). The very DOGNESS of standard poodles are, I swear, the best kept secret of the pure-bred dog world. Why do people breed poodles and labradors? It is soooo redundant--poodles already HAVE the warm, joyous, ohmigoshiloveyousoooooooooomuch personality of the lab and they're just a tiny bit smarter. I will never, ever have anything other than a standard poodle, ever again. (Unless poor Chris dies, in which case I will have a standard poodle AND some cats. Actually, if he dies, I'll probably get like three standard poodles and three cats and turn into one of those crazy old women who have cats and dogs and never go anywhere because they can't find their keys.)
Chris got Earl the Squirrel for Emily for Christmas. I don't know who makes it but it had dog club sticker on it (you know, the one that does all the papers for breed dogs. I'm blanking on the name right now). It is the most phenomenally resilient stuffed dog toy EVER. They should make houses out of this material. Emily has killed and attempted to gut Earl (because he rhymes with squirrel and because, you know the Dixie Chicks song . . . Earl had to die) a million times, and although he's gotten crusty, he's still in one piece. She likes to bring him to unsuspecting visitors so they can huck Earl for her. I was just uploading a photo of recently finished baby sweater and found this photo on the camera:
I laughed a mighty laugh and then hoarked it for the blog. [from the family glossary: HOARK: v. to swipe, often gleefully]
Here's that baby sweater: size 6-12 months if you're a big, jovial baby. Size 12-18 months if you're a petite little thing. This was knit for a big baby boy.
It is my favorite baby sweater pattern of all time. I have modified it a smidge because I have the pattern memorized, (not that that keeps me from making stupid mistakes. I did have to rip this back clear to the bottom of the neckline because I, apparently, can't count.)
I can't find my keys. I can't keep up with the housework (no, I mean, it's even worse than normal). I drove to New Jersey on my way to Washington D.C. I can't count my stitches for a baby sweater I've knit 5 or 7 or 9 times. I drive places and forget where I'm going on the way. At what point is it time to see a doctor? I've taken to counting the children every 10 minutes or so like I did when the twins were just starting to walk/run, just so I don't lose one in this pathetic excuse for brain activity!
Chris got Earl the Squirrel for Emily for Christmas. I don't know who makes it but it had dog club sticker on it (you know, the one that does all the papers for breed dogs. I'm blanking on the name right now). It is the most phenomenally resilient stuffed dog toy EVER. They should make houses out of this material. Emily has killed and attempted to gut Earl (because he rhymes with squirrel and because, you know the Dixie Chicks song . . . Earl had to die) a million times, and although he's gotten crusty, he's still in one piece. She likes to bring him to unsuspecting visitors so they can huck Earl for her. I was just uploading a photo of recently finished baby sweater and found this photo on the camera:
I laughed a mighty laugh and then hoarked it for the blog. [from the family glossary: HOARK: v. to swipe, often gleefully]
Here's that baby sweater: size 6-12 months if you're a big, jovial baby. Size 12-18 months if you're a petite little thing. This was knit for a big baby boy.
It is my favorite baby sweater pattern of all time. I have modified it a smidge because I have the pattern memorized, (not that that keeps me from making stupid mistakes. I did have to rip this back clear to the bottom of the neckline because I, apparently, can't count.)
I can't find my keys. I can't keep up with the housework (no, I mean, it's even worse than normal). I drove to New Jersey on my way to Washington D.C. I can't count my stitches for a baby sweater I've knit 5 or 7 or 9 times. I drive places and forget where I'm going on the way. At what point is it time to see a doctor? I've taken to counting the children every 10 minutes or so like I did when the twins were just starting to walk/run, just so I don't lose one in this pathetic excuse for brain activity!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Gardening, Knitting, and Patience
I knit pretty much anywhere and everywhere. I've knit through school board meetings and classes and seminars and road construction and wedding receptions and conference calls and many, many dinners out and parties and social events. I knit because it calms me down. I knit because it gives me something to do while I wait. I knit because I enjoy it and the good feelings of the knitting fit the good feelings of the social event. I knit because the baby I'm knitting for is having a growth spurt AS I KNIT. I knit for lots of reasons. But I don't knit because I AM a patient person. I knit in spite of being an impatient person.
Today Gaye and I went to Lowe's and bought a few potting and seeding supplies for me so I can start my hot pepper plants. I have written on my gardening calendar for today "start pepper seedlings." Technically, this means both sweet peppers and hot peppers, but I don't get as excited about the sweet peppers. I should, given the grocery store prices, but I didn't have as successful a year with them last year, so I'm still kind of hesitant to get too excited about them.
Anyway, we also got the lumber and screws we needed to start putting together the raised beds we're starting in Gaye's back yard this spring. She gets two veggie gardens and a BIG bird and butterfly garden for her backyard. Her yard is huge and open and sunny and right now is nothing but grass. So we're adding some things to it. She doesn't much care as long as we can make the front yard look green and lush and have lots of pretty things growing there. So my job is to make the front yard look that way and then in exchange, I get to plant corn for Chris and melons for Max and strawberries for Max, and flowers for the butterflies, and tomatoes and hot peppers and probably everything else for me.
We got back to her place and I started assembling boxes. This went quickly and smoothly until the battery in the drill died. We tried charging it for awhile while we took a break, but it didn't charge fast enough and the last box will have to be done Monday afternoon.
So I took the twinks home (Chris and Max had gone to a movie) and they played outside, because they could, while I installed new locks in the front door and main bathroom (long story: short version--they needed them). Then I started gathering items for starting the seeds and realized I was missing one key ingredient: the seeds.
I'd ordered them about ten days ago, but they haven't arrived yet. I went through my old seeds and found a couple packages from last summer that might still be viable this year, but mostly I'm just going to have to wait.
So I'm back to knitting tonight.
I will say this. Every spring I am impatient for more spring. Every spring I start the seeds too soon. This year I have tried very hard not to. Last year I started them on March 2. This year it looks like I'll be running about three weeks later on the peppers and hopefully another week after that before I start tomatoes. And I think that'll end up timing things just about right.
I'm off to finish a baby sweater so I can give it to the Mom at church tomorrow. That'll hopefully make up for the things that were started today but not finished.
Today Gaye and I went to Lowe's and bought a few potting and seeding supplies for me so I can start my hot pepper plants. I have written on my gardening calendar for today "start pepper seedlings." Technically, this means both sweet peppers and hot peppers, but I don't get as excited about the sweet peppers. I should, given the grocery store prices, but I didn't have as successful a year with them last year, so I'm still kind of hesitant to get too excited about them.
Anyway, we also got the lumber and screws we needed to start putting together the raised beds we're starting in Gaye's back yard this spring. She gets two veggie gardens and a BIG bird and butterfly garden for her backyard. Her yard is huge and open and sunny and right now is nothing but grass. So we're adding some things to it. She doesn't much care as long as we can make the front yard look green and lush and have lots of pretty things growing there. So my job is to make the front yard look that way and then in exchange, I get to plant corn for Chris and melons for Max and strawberries for Max, and flowers for the butterflies, and tomatoes and hot peppers and probably everything else for me.
We got back to her place and I started assembling boxes. This went quickly and smoothly until the battery in the drill died. We tried charging it for awhile while we took a break, but it didn't charge fast enough and the last box will have to be done Monday afternoon.
So I took the twinks home (Chris and Max had gone to a movie) and they played outside, because they could, while I installed new locks in the front door and main bathroom (long story: short version--they needed them). Then I started gathering items for starting the seeds and realized I was missing one key ingredient: the seeds.
I'd ordered them about ten days ago, but they haven't arrived yet. I went through my old seeds and found a couple packages from last summer that might still be viable this year, but mostly I'm just going to have to wait.
So I'm back to knitting tonight.
I will say this. Every spring I am impatient for more spring. Every spring I start the seeds too soon. This year I have tried very hard not to. Last year I started them on March 2. This year it looks like I'll be running about three weeks later on the peppers and hopefully another week after that before I start tomatoes. And I think that'll end up timing things just about right.
I'm off to finish a baby sweater so I can give it to the Mom at church tomorrow. That'll hopefully make up for the things that were started today but not finished.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Mini-Vacation
On Tuesday I packed up the Mom-in-law, the twinks, the big kid, some overnight clothes, and a bunch of maps and headed south for Washington D.C.
On four hours of sleep.
Which is probably a large part of why it was that it took us 6 hours to get there.
On account of that detour I took through New Jersey.
New Jersey is NOT on the way to Washington D.C. if you start in State College, PA, but I went there first anyway.
Here is a photo of the twins in their Christmas shirts to distract you from how incredibly stupid that detour was:
We got there and checked into a Best Western by the Beltway and even though it was past it's glory days--it was really a pretty nice hotel. It was CLEAN, it smelled good, the service was good, it had a free continental breakfast, and it was incredibly inexpensive for the area. Lanham, Maryland. There. Now you know where to stay the next time you want to bring your kids to Washington D.C. but can't afford $280 per night or more.
Anyway, we ate, we returned to the hotel, two hours and much giggling later, everyone but me finally fell asleep. I worked. Finished around 1am.
We got up at 7:30 am, took turns taking a shower, ate at the continental breakfast (the twins made fast friends with "Ms. Jo" which is short for Josephine. We learned a lot about Josephine and she learned a lot about us.), and the drove into D.C. We parked at an underground parking garage a block from the place where we were renting an electric scooter for Gaye. The all-day rate was $2 less than me buying metro tickets for us all. And the drive into D.C. wasn't bad at all, honestly. (Although I should have bought gas earlier in the trip. S'okay. Worked out fine.)
We found the scooter place, decided the scooter was pretty cool. Walked and scooted from there the block to the Museum of Natural History.
We saw natural things.
Stuffed, formerly natural things.
and lots of gift shops.
We were there for hours, then ate in the museum cafeteria downstairs, which was far more expensive than . . . well, anything else we did in the whole trip. Don't ask.
From there we walked and scooted over to the air & space museum, but we hit the sculpture garden on the way (not my photo)
and waved at the Merry-Go-Round at the Smithsonian from a distance with a promise to visit it soon. (Photo not mine. I borrowed it from Christopher George at http://christophertgeorge.blogspot.com/2007/03/grab-brass-ring.html. It is his photo and after a few days of linking here so that my loyal readers get a feel for what we saw, I'll unlink because . . . I'm not sure I should even be showing the photo here without permission.) Honestly, we didn't even get close enough to the Merry-go-round to see it this well.
Okay, so we hit the Air & Space Museum and discovered . . . that we were just plain exhausted. So we saw a funny old black and white short and we looked at the exhibit of the planets, and we visited the highlights of the Museum of American History--which are temporarily in the corner of the Air & Space Museum. I took many photos of Mr. Roger's sweater:
Because I hope to knit one like that for all the boys (big and small) some day.
And then we agreed that the Smithsonian is more than our merry band can do in one trip and we'll have to go back soon:
And we drove home, this time, skipping New Jersey and Delaware. It went much faster that way.
We still took longer than we should have.
20 minutes from home we sat for an hour while police cleared the hull of a burnt-out truck. (We don't think anyone was hurt.)
And then, happily, we were back home.
Can't wait to do it again . . . without the New Jersey part.
On four hours of sleep.
Which is probably a large part of why it was that it took us 6 hours to get there.
On account of that detour I took through New Jersey.
New Jersey is NOT on the way to Washington D.C. if you start in State College, PA, but I went there first anyway.
Here is a photo of the twins in their Christmas shirts to distract you from how incredibly stupid that detour was:
We got there and checked into a Best Western by the Beltway and even though it was past it's glory days--it was really a pretty nice hotel. It was CLEAN, it smelled good, the service was good, it had a free continental breakfast, and it was incredibly inexpensive for the area. Lanham, Maryland. There. Now you know where to stay the next time you want to bring your kids to Washington D.C. but can't afford $280 per night or more.
Anyway, we ate, we returned to the hotel, two hours and much giggling later, everyone but me finally fell asleep. I worked. Finished around 1am.
We got up at 7:30 am, took turns taking a shower, ate at the continental breakfast (the twins made fast friends with "Ms. Jo" which is short for Josephine. We learned a lot about Josephine and she learned a lot about us.), and the drove into D.C. We parked at an underground parking garage a block from the place where we were renting an electric scooter for Gaye. The all-day rate was $2 less than me buying metro tickets for us all. And the drive into D.C. wasn't bad at all, honestly. (Although I should have bought gas earlier in the trip. S'okay. Worked out fine.)
We found the scooter place, decided the scooter was pretty cool. Walked and scooted from there the block to the Museum of Natural History.
We saw natural things.
Stuffed, formerly natural things.
and lots of gift shops.
We were there for hours, then ate in the museum cafeteria downstairs, which was far more expensive than . . . well, anything else we did in the whole trip. Don't ask.
From there we walked and scooted over to the air & space museum, but we hit the sculpture garden on the way (not my photo)
and waved at the Merry-Go-Round at the Smithsonian from a distance with a promise to visit it soon. (Photo not mine. I borrowed it from Christopher George at http://christophertgeorge.blogspot.com/2007/03/grab-brass-ring.html. It is his photo and after a few days of linking here so that my loyal readers get a feel for what we saw, I'll unlink because . . . I'm not sure I should even be showing the photo here without permission.) Honestly, we didn't even get close enough to the Merry-go-round to see it this well.
Okay, so we hit the Air & Space Museum and discovered . . . that we were just plain exhausted. So we saw a funny old black and white short and we looked at the exhibit of the planets, and we visited the highlights of the Museum of American History--which are temporarily in the corner of the Air & Space Museum. I took many photos of Mr. Roger's sweater:
Because I hope to knit one like that for all the boys (big and small) some day.
And then we agreed that the Smithsonian is more than our merry band can do in one trip and we'll have to go back soon:
And we drove home, this time, skipping New Jersey and Delaware. It went much faster that way.
We still took longer than we should have.
20 minutes from home we sat for an hour while police cleared the hull of a burnt-out truck. (We don't think anyone was hurt.)
And then, happily, we were back home.
Can't wait to do it again . . . without the New Jersey part.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Closing Doors
Not very long ago I stumbled across this New York Times article about how painful it is for human beings to intentionally "close a door." The study detailed in the article uses virtual doors to stand in for metaphorical doors, but this topic is near and dear to me. Understanding the advantage of intentionally closing some doors was behind my encouraging Chris to leave Honda. It is there when I close paid-off lines of credit. It is upper-most in my mind as I try to decide how I want to earn income for the next decade.
In the article, they briefly touch on how difficult it is to close doors on behalf of our children, too--leaving them over-scheduled.
The timing couldn't be better, as the summer is coming and if we're going to do swim team with the kids, I need to figure out how to cram more swim lessons back into Ben and Milo's schedule so they can make it all the way across the pool this year.
But I am loathe to cram anything else into their schedules. I can't tell you how much I would like for the boys to have . . . summer. They will be 6 and a half this summer. We have a big backyard. Grandma has a big backyard. There is an even mile between us with exactly one bad intersection.
What if we didn't join the swim team? What if we just got a family pass to the pool for the summer and made it a goal to go four times a week for exercise?
What if we went down to the creek they are so enchanted with and looked for a safe place to access it, set up the rules, and let them play?
We'll still have piano practice. Max is doing two weeks of summer "camp." We're going cabin camping with one set of grandparents and possibly some of my siblings. I'll have work to do. I hope to work with the twins on their writing. I hope Max reads a lot. And they will, because I don't mind it in moderation, play lots on the Wii and Game Cube.
They can ride bikes at the school at the end of the block. I'll need their help weeding and watering gardens. They can do butterfly inventories (Gramma Gaye and I bought a mix of butterfly and hummingbird flower seed) and have their friends over for playdates.
How bad would it be if the only place we HAD to be for most of June, July, and August was church and the occasional piano lesson?
I write it out like this and the answer seems obvious. It wouldn't be bad at all. Let the door close. Let the swim lesson sign-ups pass.
++++++++++++
I'm having an odd week, mostly because the schedule for pretty much everything I do was different this week and there were just weird blips. OTOH, I've had a lot of fun with Gaye this week, who has pretty much kept me sane. I just drive her places. We hit a garden nursery yesterday and walked away with some new plants for me and some big plans for her yard. Today at the Waffle Shop we planned out where her new raised-bed gardens will go, where the Chris Hults Corn Garden will go, and what to do with the slope in her backyard that could be pretty and not need mowing if we act son.
I posted some of our questions to the Organic Gardening forum and am awaiting answers.
It's about time for me to head over to the school for the usual Thursday afternoon volunteering. Then we're using the kids' book-reading pizza coupons for dinner and calling it a day.
In the article, they briefly touch on how difficult it is to close doors on behalf of our children, too--leaving them over-scheduled.
The timing couldn't be better, as the summer is coming and if we're going to do swim team with the kids, I need to figure out how to cram more swim lessons back into Ben and Milo's schedule so they can make it all the way across the pool this year.
But I am loathe to cram anything else into their schedules. I can't tell you how much I would like for the boys to have . . . summer. They will be 6 and a half this summer. We have a big backyard. Grandma has a big backyard. There is an even mile between us with exactly one bad intersection.
What if we didn't join the swim team? What if we just got a family pass to the pool for the summer and made it a goal to go four times a week for exercise?
What if we went down to the creek they are so enchanted with and looked for a safe place to access it, set up the rules, and let them play?
We'll still have piano practice. Max is doing two weeks of summer "camp." We're going cabin camping with one set of grandparents and possibly some of my siblings. I'll have work to do. I hope to work with the twins on their writing. I hope Max reads a lot. And they will, because I don't mind it in moderation, play lots on the Wii and Game Cube.
They can ride bikes at the school at the end of the block. I'll need their help weeding and watering gardens. They can do butterfly inventories (Gramma Gaye and I bought a mix of butterfly and hummingbird flower seed) and have their friends over for playdates.
How bad would it be if the only place we HAD to be for most of June, July, and August was church and the occasional piano lesson?
I write it out like this and the answer seems obvious. It wouldn't be bad at all. Let the door close. Let the swim lesson sign-ups pass.
++++++++++++
I'm having an odd week, mostly because the schedule for pretty much everything I do was different this week and there were just weird blips. OTOH, I've had a lot of fun with Gaye this week, who has pretty much kept me sane. I just drive her places. We hit a garden nursery yesterday and walked away with some new plants for me and some big plans for her yard. Today at the Waffle Shop we planned out where her new raised-bed gardens will go, where the Chris Hults Corn Garden will go, and what to do with the slope in her backyard that could be pretty and not need mowing if we act son.
I posted some of our questions to the Organic Gardening forum and am awaiting answers.
It's about time for me to head over to the school for the usual Thursday afternoon volunteering. Then we're using the kids' book-reading pizza coupons for dinner and calling it a day.
Friday, February 29, 2008
POW! It's Been a Week
And what a week it's been.
I got slammed with work. And while I was having to cancel things left and right, there were things I just didn't feel I could and so I did all those things, too. (One was the teacher appreciation breakfast at the school this morning for which the boys and I got up at 6am. But as ready as they all were to go to bed early, they--especially Max--really had fun helping.)
I'm still slammed, but I have to stop and sleep tonight before getting up and starting all over again. It's snowing like the dickens. Max got on the phone and found a friend to go skiing with tomorrow afternoon. This made me happy. Tomorrow afternoon is my last lace knitting class. Mental note: no more doubling up on knitting classes. One knitting class in a month is fun. Two is a job and it doesn't pay nearly enough.
A lot happened this week. We found a treasurer for the PAC. I had a ton of fun reading poems with the second graders. I had the last session of the "Wellness" experiment I've been participating in at Penn State (I know, I haven't blogged about that at all. Ask me later. It was food for thought. Literally.) I got terribly behind in dishes and further behind in laundry. If the propane people don't show up this coming Wednesday I'll have been without a way to dry my clothes for over two weeks. They keep skipping me and saying, "oops." I'd just have them come get my tank and get a new company--but I don't want to pay the horrific deposit on a new tank.
And it's snowing again. So beautiful. I hope it's the snow that comes right before the big warm up and the crocuses.
I got slammed with work. And while I was having to cancel things left and right, there were things I just didn't feel I could and so I did all those things, too. (One was the teacher appreciation breakfast at the school this morning for which the boys and I got up at 6am. But as ready as they all were to go to bed early, they--especially Max--really had fun helping.)
I'm still slammed, but I have to stop and sleep tonight before getting up and starting all over again. It's snowing like the dickens. Max got on the phone and found a friend to go skiing with tomorrow afternoon. This made me happy. Tomorrow afternoon is my last lace knitting class. Mental note: no more doubling up on knitting classes. One knitting class in a month is fun. Two is a job and it doesn't pay nearly enough.
A lot happened this week. We found a treasurer for the PAC. I had a ton of fun reading poems with the second graders. I had the last session of the "Wellness" experiment I've been participating in at Penn State (I know, I haven't blogged about that at all. Ask me later. It was food for thought. Literally.) I got terribly behind in dishes and further behind in laundry. If the propane people don't show up this coming Wednesday I'll have been without a way to dry my clothes for over two weeks. They keep skipping me and saying, "oops." I'd just have them come get my tank and get a new company--but I don't want to pay the horrific deposit on a new tank.
And it's snowing again. So beautiful. I hope it's the snow that comes right before the big warm up and the crocuses.
Friday, February 22, 2008
More Ski Mom
Today the Powers that Be declared it a snow day. I worked through the morning, then tossed the kids into the car and headed over to the ski place so the kids could have some fun in the freshly fallen snow. In the short ski season that is Central PA, the kids can now use their school ski passes any day of the way--they just can't have a lesson unless it's actually 4 or 5 pm. Well, we were having the missionaries over for dinner, which meant the later hours weren't going to work for skiing . . . and since on Monday the boys had managed to successfully get on and off the ski lift without any bodily harm (just once, but once counts) . . . I figured, what the heck, we'll try it without the lesson. Just Ben, Milo, a biiiiiigggg gentle ski slope, and a death trap of a ski lift. No problem.
And it wasn't. Ben DID scare ten years off my life the first time up the ski lift. I won't go into details just in case child protective services reads the blog, but I was right there on the ground under the chair and I yelled, "Stop! Stop! Ben, don't worry about it. Just sit back in the chair and hold still!" And God bless the little bugger, he did. So it was good. And NEXT time he went up, the guy at the bottom who helps the little guys get on the ski chair DID REMEMBER to help Ben put the safety bar down first. God bless HIM, too.
But after that he was great on the ski lift and so was Milo and since it wasn't in the budget for me to get a lift ticket and rental, too, I walked UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN the side of the hill, mostly just coaching whomever was in the down position on how to move their skis around perpendicular to the hill to get up on their own. And then . . . I didn't have to do that anymore either. So I stood at the top of the hill and believed them when they sailed by saying, "Just one more time!" until it became clear that they were maybe NEVER going to run out of steam. They HAD it and skiing had THEM and they were happy little masters of Little Bear and Little Bear chair lift. I tried to get video, but I don't think you can really seen anything. The weather wasn't perfect. It kept sleeting for brief periods of time. The twins have goggles, thanks to Gramma Gaye, so the weather didn't phase them at all. I was getting pretty cold though.
Eventually I did have to pull them off the hill. They'd been skiing for about two hours straight. They would have kept going, I think, until they collapsed into little kindergartner heaps. But I was freezing, so we turned in their skis and they gleefully reported their success to Jon-the-ski-rental-guy (who always tells them they're "the coolest twins on skis," which makes him real popular with the twinks).
Meanwhile, Max and Brian came sniffing around for lunch, and I had a bunch of meal tickets to use up, so we all ate lunch (okay, the kids all INHALED lunch. I ate.) and then packed up and went home. We didn't get a full three hours of skiing this time (normally we do, but we didn't get there till 12:10 and the lift tickets were only good 12:00 to 3:00 and it probably took us a good 15 minutes to get out on the snow, so by the time we were done with lunch, we were done).
Max's last Saturday ski school is tomorrow and then I don't know if we'll make it back out on the hill one more time before all the snow is gone or not. Max has a season pass and we'll try to get out more than once before all the snow is gone, but the twins have to wait until I get paid and I can't say today exactly when that will be. I do hope to get them one more good afternoon on skis, though.
It's been a good little ski season for us this year. Totally worth it.
And it wasn't. Ben DID scare ten years off my life the first time up the ski lift. I won't go into details just in case child protective services reads the blog, but I was right there on the ground under the chair and I yelled, "Stop! Stop! Ben, don't worry about it. Just sit back in the chair and hold still!" And God bless the little bugger, he did. So it was good. And NEXT time he went up, the guy at the bottom who helps the little guys get on the ski chair DID REMEMBER to help Ben put the safety bar down first. God bless HIM, too.
But after that he was great on the ski lift and so was Milo and since it wasn't in the budget for me to get a lift ticket and rental, too, I walked UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN the side of the hill, mostly just coaching whomever was in the down position on how to move their skis around perpendicular to the hill to get up on their own. And then . . . I didn't have to do that anymore either. So I stood at the top of the hill and believed them when they sailed by saying, "Just one more time!" until it became clear that they were maybe NEVER going to run out of steam. They HAD it and skiing had THEM and they were happy little masters of Little Bear and Little Bear chair lift. I tried to get video, but I don't think you can really seen anything. The weather wasn't perfect. It kept sleeting for brief periods of time. The twins have goggles, thanks to Gramma Gaye, so the weather didn't phase them at all. I was getting pretty cold though.
Eventually I did have to pull them off the hill. They'd been skiing for about two hours straight. They would have kept going, I think, until they collapsed into little kindergartner heaps. But I was freezing, so we turned in their skis and they gleefully reported their success to Jon-the-ski-rental-guy (who always tells them they're "the coolest twins on skis," which makes him real popular with the twinks).
Meanwhile, Max and Brian came sniffing around for lunch, and I had a bunch of meal tickets to use up, so we all ate lunch (okay, the kids all INHALED lunch. I ate.) and then packed up and went home. We didn't get a full three hours of skiing this time (normally we do, but we didn't get there till 12:10 and the lift tickets were only good 12:00 to 3:00 and it probably took us a good 15 minutes to get out on the snow, so by the time we were done with lunch, we were done).
Max's last Saturday ski school is tomorrow and then I don't know if we'll make it back out on the hill one more time before all the snow is gone or not. Max has a season pass and we'll try to get out more than once before all the snow is gone, but the twins have to wait until I get paid and I can't say today exactly when that will be. I do hope to get them one more good afternoon on skis, though.
It's been a good little ski season for us this year. Totally worth it.
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