It's so hard to believe summer is really over, although the temperature outside and the quiet inside go a long ways towards convincing me.
I have such mixed emotions. On the one hand, as I move from room to room, surveying the total devastation and realizing that I may actually get some work done now that the children are gone all day, I feel elated at the prospect of a clean house (which it hasn't seen since April in preparation for my nephew's wedding). On the other hand, I feel like I'm moving through a dream and, once I wake up, things are going to reel out of control.
I've been starting to write things on my calendar again - Monday - PE for one child; Thursday - PE for another. Speech therapy, Social, volleyball games, soccer practice, allergy shots, giving rides home . . . it all seems overwhelming right now. I've gotten 6 invitations in the last 1 1/2 weeks to baby showers and bridal showers. This weekend is my dear friend's baby's baptism (a event we would not miss as a family), next weekend Don and I will be on retreat, the following weekend is his birthday and my 30th high school reunion (with a baby shower smack in the middle of), the next weekend is Deanna 13th birthday.
The pace of life is staggering. Even thinking about the pace of life is staggering. The thing about it is this: I can't live my entire life with the attitude "If I can just get through this day (or this weekend, or this week) . . ." Entirely too much of my time is chalked up to "just getting through". Where's the "living"? Where's the quality of family life. Two of my children deal with stress-related stomach ailments. Is it any wonder?
We all feel the need to slow down, but I'm no longer sure I even know what that means. I know my life is not a testament to peace and order. But where do you start? And I only have 3 children - how do families with 6, 7, or 8 manage?
Once again, I have lots of questions and very few answers. I'm praying that this month will bring clarity to my life and unfuzz my mind so I can get at the tasks at hand with focus.
I'm praying for God's grace, once again. I need his mercy, a whole torrential downpour of it. Come, Lord Jesus. Fall on me like raindrops. Let your mercy flow.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Going Out With a Bang
We had the most awesome day yesterday. Don decided he really needed to work, even though it was a holiday, so I decided to have one last hoorah of summer and take the kids to the beach. My mother and sister went along.
We chose Tybee Island, which is Savannah Beach. The weather was perfect, the water was cold, and there was a lovely breeze. My good friend, Fr. John, who has just been transferred to Savannah, joined us and we spent two hours huddled under beach umbrellas watching the children and visiting. It was glorious.
On the way home, we ate at the Crab Shack, which John recommended - a most delightful experience.
I told the children in the afternoon, "This beach trip is the reason I love the beach so much." It was absolute perfection and the perfect way to spend the last, final day of summer.
It's back to school and the doldrums of eternal busyness. But I'm already beginning to dream of next summer.
We chose Tybee Island, which is Savannah Beach. The weather was perfect, the water was cold, and there was a lovely breeze. My good friend, Fr. John, who has just been transferred to Savannah, joined us and we spent two hours huddled under beach umbrellas watching the children and visiting. It was glorious.
On the way home, we ate at the Crab Shack, which John recommended - a most delightful experience.
I told the children in the afternoon, "This beach trip is the reason I love the beach so much." It was absolute perfection and the perfect way to spend the last, final day of summer.
It's back to school and the doldrums of eternal busyness. But I'm already beginning to dream of next summer.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Laundry Dilemna
A couple of years ago, Dane told me that he likes the shorts that are that quick-drying mesh material. He said they are very comfortable and they look cool. We set out to buy him a pair or two and came home with about four.
This year, I noticed some of Dane's shirts are beginning to look like bikini tops. I always buy the children's clothes at least one size large so they'll have some growing space. But Dane's growing space had been used up plus another healthy portion.
"Time to pass them along to Daelyn", I thought. So, off to the store we went. It seems they only carry those mesh things in blue, red, and black, so his wardrobe is a little redundant and boring. When I'd do his laundry, I'd find that matching the tops and bottoms together took way more time than it should - I just couldn't seem to easily match the right shorts with the right top, they were all too similar.
I came up with an idea; how about marking the tops and bottoms somehow so I would know which ones went together. I tried by writing a description on the shorts of the top that went with it. That worked okay, but few of the shirts had distinguishing characteristics. Plan B was to write numbers on them - Shirt and Shorts #1, written in black Sharpie on the tag. This worked great except when I forgot occasionally which number I was on. But it made it hugely easier to match up his clothes, almost like Garanimals. He could even do it himself.
When Daelyn moved into the spare bedroom the beginning of May, I realized he was desperately short of summer clothes. I guess the shorts I had bought Dane were long enough that he wore them into the year that Daelyn needed them, and Daelyn is only wearing one size smaller than Dane at this point. He had a couple of things that had been passed down, but not enough for the summer, where he needs a shorts outfit for every day of the week.
Back to the store, to the same old rack, with the same red, black, and blue mesh shorts and tops. But how would I ever differentiate Daelyn's clothes from Dane's?
In a rare stroke of genius (getting rarer with every passing year), I switched to the alphabet with Daelyn. He now has shorts outfit "A", "B", "C" . . .
This concept has revolutionized my laundry day. It's so much easier and doesn't require much brain effort, something very valuable to me at this point in my life. The only problem I have is that there are a few outfits that are reversible and don't have tags (where do you put that "G"), a few more that were not around when I was Sharpie-ing them (is that really a word?), and a couple others that are so dark I had to use a silver Sharpie for the label and it's hard to see.
I found myself yesterday pulling a pair of shorts out of the dryer. Without even looking, I said to myself "G". They're one of the pairs with the silver Sharpie that's barely visible on the navy blue back. I guess something's stuck in that old, slow brain.
I may be incapable of matching colors and styles, but at least I can match letters and numbers.
"The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be!"
This year, I noticed some of Dane's shirts are beginning to look like bikini tops. I always buy the children's clothes at least one size large so they'll have some growing space. But Dane's growing space had been used up plus another healthy portion.
"Time to pass them along to Daelyn", I thought. So, off to the store we went. It seems they only carry those mesh things in blue, red, and black, so his wardrobe is a little redundant and boring. When I'd do his laundry, I'd find that matching the tops and bottoms together took way more time than it should - I just couldn't seem to easily match the right shorts with the right top, they were all too similar.
I came up with an idea; how about marking the tops and bottoms somehow so I would know which ones went together. I tried by writing a description on the shorts of the top that went with it. That worked okay, but few of the shirts had distinguishing characteristics. Plan B was to write numbers on them - Shirt and Shorts #1, written in black Sharpie on the tag. This worked great except when I forgot occasionally which number I was on. But it made it hugely easier to match up his clothes, almost like Garanimals. He could even do it himself.
When Daelyn moved into the spare bedroom the beginning of May, I realized he was desperately short of summer clothes. I guess the shorts I had bought Dane were long enough that he wore them into the year that Daelyn needed them, and Daelyn is only wearing one size smaller than Dane at this point. He had a couple of things that had been passed down, but not enough for the summer, where he needs a shorts outfit for every day of the week.
Back to the store, to the same old rack, with the same red, black, and blue mesh shorts and tops. But how would I ever differentiate Daelyn's clothes from Dane's?
In a rare stroke of genius (getting rarer with every passing year), I switched to the alphabet with Daelyn. He now has shorts outfit "A", "B", "C" . . .
This concept has revolutionized my laundry day. It's so much easier and doesn't require much brain effort, something very valuable to me at this point in my life. The only problem I have is that there are a few outfits that are reversible and don't have tags (where do you put that "G"), a few more that were not around when I was Sharpie-ing them (is that really a word?), and a couple others that are so dark I had to use a silver Sharpie for the label and it's hard to see.
I found myself yesterday pulling a pair of shorts out of the dryer. Without even looking, I said to myself "G". They're one of the pairs with the silver Sharpie that's barely visible on the navy blue back. I guess something's stuck in that old, slow brain.
I may be incapable of matching colors and styles, but at least I can match letters and numbers.
"The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be!"
Monday, August 24, 2009
Traveling Mercies
My brother wrote one of the most beautiful things I've ever read. He e-mailed it to my father and entitled it, "Ramblings". Daddy sent it out to his other children. I didn't open it immediately, Dad forwards a lot of jokes and stories, but when I finally opened it and read the attached document, I was stunned, then moved to tears.
It's difficult to explain why this meant so much to me. Some of it, I'm sure, is because of the great love I have for my only brother. He's the oldest, I'm the youngest in the family, and he always took time with me when I was growing up. He'd take me motorcycling riding with him when he went off with his friends. We always seemed to have an understanding that he didn't have with our sisters. We had a special relationship, something that existed beyond words.
I still feel that way about Chuck. I get pangs in my chest when I think about him. I still miss him terribly, even though he's lived away from home since I was 10 (38 years ago). I've lived away from him almost four times longer than I lived with him, but he still impacts my life in many ways. I'd do almost anything to make him proud, while simultaneously understanding that I don't need to "DO" anything to make him proud of me - he already is.
Perhaps his ramblings struck me because I've felt many of the same stirrings as those he describes. For years, as I've mentioned in the past, I've felt like I missed out on something by not having a hometown, not living in any one place long enough to be able to take my children "home". Recently, I realized that "home" for me is the little town in Canada where my mother was raised and my father met her. My maternal grandparents lived there until their death, my mother was born and raised there, and the Blonsky Farm is still owned by my cousin. But I've never lived there, only visited, and the feeling of always being on the move, never lighting anywhere for very long, has always pervaded my memories of childhood.
"There are Travelers, and there are Stayers. Stayers are the type of people who enjoy the stability and permanence of the same routine, the same places, the familiarity of repeating the same drill time after time. Do you drive past half a dozen restaurants you've never tried for the same old spot you know has good service, good food and reasonable prices? Can you show your children or grandchildren the home you grew up in, or Grandad's old fishing hole just a short drive from where you live now? I used to envy the people that I knew that hadn't moved in 30 or 40 years - they were Stayers."
I, too, have envied those people. However, I also find myself suggesting the new restaurant, the one we've never tried. I find myself mixing up the way I drive to certain familiar places, not wanting to get bogged down in the same routine. Always something new, which has been quite a challenge to Don throughout our marriage, since he's what my brother would describe as a "stayer".
At the root of it all, like my brother, I'm a Traveler. I don't believe I would've been content in my life had I stayed in the same place for very long. Even now, while I've lived in the same house for 25 years or so, I find myself wanting to go to different places on vacation, places I've never seen before. I'm always interested in the new thing.
While I guess there are always rewards in staying, I can think of so much beauty in life I would've missed if I hadn't been a traveler, so many relationships that would have never been, so many expressions of God's love for me.
"Somewhere between Edson and Hinton, the smoky image of the Rockies starts to appear ahead and encourages the anticipation of the beauty of the mountains. By the time you pass the Big Horn Highway turnoff to Grande Cache, the mountains are rushing towards you like an enormous blue, white and purple storm. The streams and rivers and rock outcroppings start to blend together as the road climbs towards Jasper. The only phrase that even comes close to describing the feeling is 'breathtaking'."
My life would have been much sadder if I had missed out on scenes like this one. The beauty of God's creation calls out to me from every direction, begging me to come and see. And I, being essentially a Traveler by nature, answer in kind.
"I'm coming, someday soon. I'll be there to gaze on you - as soon as I get the trip planned."
It's difficult to explain why this meant so much to me. Some of it, I'm sure, is because of the great love I have for my only brother. He's the oldest, I'm the youngest in the family, and he always took time with me when I was growing up. He'd take me motorcycling riding with him when he went off with his friends. We always seemed to have an understanding that he didn't have with our sisters. We had a special relationship, something that existed beyond words.
I still feel that way about Chuck. I get pangs in my chest when I think about him. I still miss him terribly, even though he's lived away from home since I was 10 (38 years ago). I've lived away from him almost four times longer than I lived with him, but he still impacts my life in many ways. I'd do almost anything to make him proud, while simultaneously understanding that I don't need to "DO" anything to make him proud of me - he already is.
Perhaps his ramblings struck me because I've felt many of the same stirrings as those he describes. For years, as I've mentioned in the past, I've felt like I missed out on something by not having a hometown, not living in any one place long enough to be able to take my children "home". Recently, I realized that "home" for me is the little town in Canada where my mother was raised and my father met her. My maternal grandparents lived there until their death, my mother was born and raised there, and the Blonsky Farm is still owned by my cousin. But I've never lived there, only visited, and the feeling of always being on the move, never lighting anywhere for very long, has always pervaded my memories of childhood.
"There are Travelers, and there are Stayers. Stayers are the type of people who enjoy the stability and permanence of the same routine, the same places, the familiarity of repeating the same drill time after time. Do you drive past half a dozen restaurants you've never tried for the same old spot you know has good service, good food and reasonable prices? Can you show your children or grandchildren the home you grew up in, or Grandad's old fishing hole just a short drive from where you live now? I used to envy the people that I knew that hadn't moved in 30 or 40 years - they were Stayers."
I, too, have envied those people. However, I also find myself suggesting the new restaurant, the one we've never tried. I find myself mixing up the way I drive to certain familiar places, not wanting to get bogged down in the same routine. Always something new, which has been quite a challenge to Don throughout our marriage, since he's what my brother would describe as a "stayer".
At the root of it all, like my brother, I'm a Traveler. I don't believe I would've been content in my life had I stayed in the same place for very long. Even now, while I've lived in the same house for 25 years or so, I find myself wanting to go to different places on vacation, places I've never seen before. I'm always interested in the new thing.
While I guess there are always rewards in staying, I can think of so much beauty in life I would've missed if I hadn't been a traveler, so many relationships that would have never been, so many expressions of God's love for me.
"Somewhere between Edson and Hinton, the smoky image of the Rockies starts to appear ahead and encourages the anticipation of the beauty of the mountains. By the time you pass the Big Horn Highway turnoff to Grande Cache, the mountains are rushing towards you like an enormous blue, white and purple storm. The streams and rivers and rock outcroppings start to blend together as the road climbs towards Jasper. The only phrase that even comes close to describing the feeling is 'breathtaking'."
My life would have been much sadder if I had missed out on scenes like this one. The beauty of God's creation calls out to me from every direction, begging me to come and see. And I, being essentially a Traveler by nature, answer in kind.
"I'm coming, someday soon. I'll be there to gaze on you - as soon as I get the trip planned."
Monday, July 20, 2009
Dane's Vacation
Dane's at Grandma and Grandpa Doughty's this week. I drove him up on Friday, meeting them about halfway. We had a nice lunch together at Cracker Barrel, then loaded Dane's stuff into their car, said goodbye, and headed off in different directions.
When I was packing him, we talked about what he wanted to take to keep him occupied. When Deanna goes, she takes lots of crafts, projects she wants to work on, books, etc. Dane opted for his baseball stuff and a window art crafts book that included the paints.
"That's all you want to take?" I asked, shocked at how little and wondering if he'd get bored.
"That's all I need, Mom," he responded. "After all, they have cable and computer games, and I'm going to visit with Grandma and Grandpa. I want to make sure I'm not too busy to visit."
I mentally ran through the list: swimming trunks, books, baseball, crafts, cable TV, computer games . . . I guess he'll keep himself occupied.
He called Friday night to tell us goodnight.
"Mom," he said to me, "I want to call every night and talk to EVERYONE. I want to know what each of you did ALL day and I want to tell you everything I did."
"We'll try, Son, but it's Grandma and Grandpa's long distance bill and I'm not sure it's fair to them if you talk to everyone. We'll see."
Don came up with the perfect solution. When Dane calls, he puts everyone on the phone at once. We have four handsets - two in the kitchen (so if the primary one is not in its cradle, we can still answer the phone), one in the den, and one in the living room. Each of us get an extension and listen while he tells us everything he did ALL DAY LONG! The children seem to be interested, which shocks me, but they even ask him questions like what he had for lunch and what games he's playing on the computer.
So, anyway, he called Saturday night before he went to bed.
"What did you do today, Son," I asked him.
"Well, first, I got up and made my bed . . ." I won't bore you with ALL the details, but he enumerated a pretty impressive list of accomplishments, including weeding Grandma's garden, visiting with her on the deck, playing baseball with Grandpa, working in the greenhouse with Grandpa preparing plants for next year, playing a new computer game, and a trip to a Nursery in Ohio where he bought a water plant.
"And, Mama, Grandpa has 17 different varieties of colius' and we're rooting them for me to bring home. And I found a succulent on the edge of the pond and Grandpa said I could dig it up and take it home 'cause he has a lot of them. And they have fennel and Grandma says it's out of control and she needs to dig some of it up and get rid of it, so she said I could take some home, but I have to have your permission first. And the water plant I bought has beautiful flowers." He was a little excited.
Deanna and I laughed about it afterward.
"Dane's done a whole week's worth of activities in one day," I told her. "If that had been you, you'd have done one of those things a day and made that stretch through the whole week."
Our conversation with Dane last night was similar. Grandma and Grandpa had taken him out for seafood and he had shrimp scampi (his absolute favorite). He's having a wonderful time and taking advantage of every minute with his grandparents.
Deanna was missing him terribly on Saturday. She called him and asked him to come home. He had only been gone a few hours, but the house is awfully quiet without him.
Daelyn will be having his time with them alone in two weeks. If she thinks the house is quiet now, she'll be shocked at how quiet it gets without Daelyn.
When I was packing him, we talked about what he wanted to take to keep him occupied. When Deanna goes, she takes lots of crafts, projects she wants to work on, books, etc. Dane opted for his baseball stuff and a window art crafts book that included the paints.
"That's all you want to take?" I asked, shocked at how little and wondering if he'd get bored.
"That's all I need, Mom," he responded. "After all, they have cable and computer games, and I'm going to visit with Grandma and Grandpa. I want to make sure I'm not too busy to visit."
I mentally ran through the list: swimming trunks, books, baseball, crafts, cable TV, computer games . . . I guess he'll keep himself occupied.
He called Friday night to tell us goodnight.
"Mom," he said to me, "I want to call every night and talk to EVERYONE. I want to know what each of you did ALL day and I want to tell you everything I did."
"We'll try, Son, but it's Grandma and Grandpa's long distance bill and I'm not sure it's fair to them if you talk to everyone. We'll see."
Don came up with the perfect solution. When Dane calls, he puts everyone on the phone at once. We have four handsets - two in the kitchen (so if the primary one is not in its cradle, we can still answer the phone), one in the den, and one in the living room. Each of us get an extension and listen while he tells us everything he did ALL DAY LONG! The children seem to be interested, which shocks me, but they even ask him questions like what he had for lunch and what games he's playing on the computer.
So, anyway, he called Saturday night before he went to bed.
"What did you do today, Son," I asked him.
"Well, first, I got up and made my bed . . ." I won't bore you with ALL the details, but he enumerated a pretty impressive list of accomplishments, including weeding Grandma's garden, visiting with her on the deck, playing baseball with Grandpa, working in the greenhouse with Grandpa preparing plants for next year, playing a new computer game, and a trip to a Nursery in Ohio where he bought a water plant.
"And, Mama, Grandpa has 17 different varieties of colius' and we're rooting them for me to bring home. And I found a succulent on the edge of the pond and Grandpa said I could dig it up and take it home 'cause he has a lot of them. And they have fennel and Grandma says it's out of control and she needs to dig some of it up and get rid of it, so she said I could take some home, but I have to have your permission first. And the water plant I bought has beautiful flowers." He was a little excited.
Deanna and I laughed about it afterward.
"Dane's done a whole week's worth of activities in one day," I told her. "If that had been you, you'd have done one of those things a day and made that stretch through the whole week."
Our conversation with Dane last night was similar. Grandma and Grandpa had taken him out for seafood and he had shrimp scampi (his absolute favorite). He's having a wonderful time and taking advantage of every minute with his grandparents.
Deanna was missing him terribly on Saturday. She called him and asked him to come home. He had only been gone a few hours, but the house is awfully quiet without him.
Daelyn will be having his time with them alone in two weeks. If she thinks the house is quiet now, she'll be shocked at how quiet it gets without Daelyn.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Pickling Season
Wow, has it ever been a long time since I've posted. It seems I don't have time to do Blogging AND Facebook. But we've had a wonderful summer so far.
I've continued to Can and have tried my hand at making pickles. I actually picked 10 cucumbers from my garden today. I find it necessary to make pickles about every third day. The only problem is I'm running out of jars.
Don's family owned a pickle factory when my mother-in-law was young and she still has the recipe for the Dreher Pickle. She e-mailed it to me so I could try my hand at them. I made a whole bucket full, but we didn't like them real well. They were very salty and didn't have much garlic or dill taste, although they were Kosher Dills.
I've doctored them up a little and we like them far better. The problem is that the recipe was for a ton of pickles, so I had to try and modify it for just a couple dozen. Apparently, I didn't get all the quantities quite right.
I did find a recipe on YouTube that I've been using and we LOVE it! It uses red pepper flakes and makes a very zesty pickle. I've made mostly sandwich slices (and I've added sugar to some and made bread and butter pickles) but Dane requested hamburger chips, also, so I've made two jars of them. I've decided to try to pick for the next week or so when they're still babies and try my hand at baby dills . . . right after I finish with the 30 or so I've already picked this week.
I've continued to Can and have tried my hand at making pickles. I actually picked 10 cucumbers from my garden today. I find it necessary to make pickles about every third day. The only problem is I'm running out of jars.
Don's family owned a pickle factory when my mother-in-law was young and she still has the recipe for the Dreher Pickle. She e-mailed it to me so I could try my hand at them. I made a whole bucket full, but we didn't like them real well. They were very salty and didn't have much garlic or dill taste, although they were Kosher Dills.
I've doctored them up a little and we like them far better. The problem is that the recipe was for a ton of pickles, so I had to try and modify it for just a couple dozen. Apparently, I didn't get all the quantities quite right.
I did find a recipe on YouTube that I've been using and we LOVE it! It uses red pepper flakes and makes a very zesty pickle. I've made mostly sandwich slices (and I've added sugar to some and made bread and butter pickles) but Dane requested hamburger chips, also, so I've made two jars of them. I've decided to try to pick for the next week or so when they're still babies and try my hand at baby dills . . . right after I finish with the 30 or so I've already picked this week.
Friday, June 12, 2009
A Foregone Conclusion
"We have weapons on board, in case we need them to fight the Aliens. We have nerve gas, even nuclear."
It may be on DVD, but this Superman episode is obviously old.
It may be on DVD, but this Superman episode is obviously old.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Skirmish #2
Dane had a baseball game tonight and then he and I stayed to watch his classmates' team play, so we were late getting home. Don took Deanna and Daelyn home after Dane's game, so when Dane and I came through the door, Deanna was waiting, having just had her shower.
"Did I tell you about the squirrel today?" she asked.
"What? Did Donovan chase another squirrel?"
"Not 'chase', almost caught!" she replied emphatically.
Dane walks Donovan in the morning, Deanna in the afternoon. When she took him out for his walk, he spotted the squirrel playing at the base of the tree. Deanna said she watched as Donovan crept slowly towards him, stalking him. When he was about 3 feet away, he took off at a dead run.
"And he would've gotten the squirrel, too, if it hadn't been for me!"
"You held him back? Why? He deserved to get that squirrel as hard as he's worked the last couple of days," I chided.
"I wasn't trying to keep him from the squirrel, but when he took off running so fast, it caught me by surprise and I couldn't keep up with him. He reached the end of the leash before I could get close enough for him to reach the squirrel. He almost jerked my arm out of it's socket."
Squirrel: 2
Donovan: 0
And the war continues. My bets are on Donovan.
"Did I tell you about the squirrel today?" she asked.
"What? Did Donovan chase another squirrel?"
"Not 'chase', almost caught!" she replied emphatically.
Dane walks Donovan in the morning, Deanna in the afternoon. When she took him out for his walk, he spotted the squirrel playing at the base of the tree. Deanna said she watched as Donovan crept slowly towards him, stalking him. When he was about 3 feet away, he took off at a dead run.
"And he would've gotten the squirrel, too, if it hadn't been for me!"
"You held him back? Why? He deserved to get that squirrel as hard as he's worked the last couple of days," I chided.
"I wasn't trying to keep him from the squirrel, but when he took off running so fast, it caught me by surprise and I couldn't keep up with him. He reached the end of the leash before I could get close enough for him to reach the squirrel. He almost jerked my arm out of it's socket."
Squirrel: 2
Donovan: 0
And the war continues. My bets are on Donovan.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Hunter
Dane came running in the house from walking the dog the other day, hollering.
"Mom," he yelled, "Donovan almost got a squirrel!"
Apparently, our brilliant dog had spotted a squirrel in the yard, and moved quickly, without the squirrel noticing him, between it and the tree. Then the stand-off began. Dane stood back, holding Donovan's leash, observing with delight the antics of his favorite puppy (we still call him a "puppy" even though he's three years old). Donovan stood quietly until the squirrel looked up and noticed he was cut off from his tree.
As the squirrel moved to the right to get around Donovan, the dog moved slightly to his left, matching the position of the other animal. They kept this up for a few minutes, Donovan countering every move of the squirrel.
Finally, the squirrel took off at a dead run. Donovan, being a dog and a hunter, at that, couldn't stand still any longer. He took off after the squirrel. Finally, the squirrel came to a screeching halt, Donovan tried his best to stop, but his heavier weight propelled him forward. The squirrel slipped in past him and ran up the tree before Donovan could recover.
Dane was quite excited that his dog had fared so well and can't wait to see the next skirmish. It'll be interesting to see if Donovan's learned anything and can hold his ground without chasing the squirrel - nature vs. training. Not that it really matters. We don't eat squirrel and I would hate to see him kill the little critter.
Although, I'm not entirely sure that Donovan WOULD kill it. He may just want to play with it some. We have yet to see him harm any other creature. He seems to think every other animal is his playmate, but I don't believe the squirrel labors under that false assumption.
"Mom," he yelled, "Donovan almost got a squirrel!"
Apparently, our brilliant dog had spotted a squirrel in the yard, and moved quickly, without the squirrel noticing him, between it and the tree. Then the stand-off began. Dane stood back, holding Donovan's leash, observing with delight the antics of his favorite puppy (we still call him a "puppy" even though he's three years old). Donovan stood quietly until the squirrel looked up and noticed he was cut off from his tree.
As the squirrel moved to the right to get around Donovan, the dog moved slightly to his left, matching the position of the other animal. They kept this up for a few minutes, Donovan countering every move of the squirrel.
Finally, the squirrel took off at a dead run. Donovan, being a dog and a hunter, at that, couldn't stand still any longer. He took off after the squirrel. Finally, the squirrel came to a screeching halt, Donovan tried his best to stop, but his heavier weight propelled him forward. The squirrel slipped in past him and ran up the tree before Donovan could recover.
Dane was quite excited that his dog had fared so well and can't wait to see the next skirmish. It'll be interesting to see if Donovan's learned anything and can hold his ground without chasing the squirrel - nature vs. training. Not that it really matters. We don't eat squirrel and I would hate to see him kill the little critter.
Although, I'm not entirely sure that Donovan WOULD kill it. He may just want to play with it some. We have yet to see him harm any other creature. He seems to think every other animal is his playmate, but I don't believe the squirrel labors under that false assumption.
Predicaments
Daelyn: "I have quite a predicament on my hands!"
Me, trying to discretely find out if he really knows what the word means: "Oh? And just what is your predicament?"
Daelyn: "I'm hungry, but if I have a snack now, I won't be as hungry for dinner, and I really like the dinner we're having."
Yep, he's got a predicament on his hands, alright. Typical male. If it were Deanna using that word, she'd be saying something like,
"I want to do my hair so it looks nice, but we're going swimming this afternoon and it'll just get all messed up again."
I guess predicaments are in the eye of the beholder.
Me, trying to discretely find out if he really knows what the word means: "Oh? And just what is your predicament?"
Daelyn: "I'm hungry, but if I have a snack now, I won't be as hungry for dinner, and I really like the dinner we're having."
Yep, he's got a predicament on his hands, alright. Typical male. If it were Deanna using that word, she'd be saying something like,
"I want to do my hair so it looks nice, but we're going swimming this afternoon and it'll just get all messed up again."
I guess predicaments are in the eye of the beholder.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
My Achin' Body!
I went to see the Occupational Therapist yesterday for my hand. Despite the cast, it's not doing too much better. Apparently, water-skiing and tubing last week may not have helped. I, figuratively, got my hand slapped for using it too much when it needs to rest so it can heal.
So, in addition to the cast, I now have to wear a pressure glove on my left hand to help reduce the swelling. It's bad enough that I can't use my left hand most of the day, but add to that the huge bruise on my knee from where the ski hit me last week as I dropped into the water and the lump and bruise on my bad ankle from who-know-what, and I'm not faring very well.
The kids and I are in hot pursuit of the yard beautification project. Dane and I had the front bed ready today to put the brick border up, add Miracle Grow soil and mix it well in with the hand-tilled ground, and prepare it for his Four O'Clocks. I also bought a bag of wild flower seeds to sprinkle in our new bed, so as the Four O'Clocks die out, they should be replaced with some lovely summer flowers.
We were picking up the rest of the brick border when one of the bricks fell, hitting against the fourth finger on my right hand. It slit my finger significantly. Blood began pouring out of my finger and the skin was hanging off, only attached by a sliver. They sent us to Customer Service for doctoring but it wasn't long before my right hand began to ache.
Okay, I can get around without my left hand for a while as it heals, but no hands makes things a little difficult, especially when you're gardening.
Deanna's had to open bottles for me today as well as other various tasks while I've favored BOTH HANDS!
I found myself laughing today as she, once again, helped with something.
"I have a bum knee, two bum hands, and a bum left ankle. There's not much left of me that works. Daddy's going to trade me in on a newer model if I'm not careful."
Deanna grinned and nodded. Although I'm bruised and battered, I keep chugging along and it's amazing how much work is getting done in the yard. I've decided that prior planning, and making sure the kids are very clear the evening before what's expected of them the next day, is key to this yard work business. I just hope I don't mess up the right leg . . .
So, in addition to the cast, I now have to wear a pressure glove on my left hand to help reduce the swelling. It's bad enough that I can't use my left hand most of the day, but add to that the huge bruise on my knee from where the ski hit me last week as I dropped into the water and the lump and bruise on my bad ankle from who-know-what, and I'm not faring very well.
The kids and I are in hot pursuit of the yard beautification project. Dane and I had the front bed ready today to put the brick border up, add Miracle Grow soil and mix it well in with the hand-tilled ground, and prepare it for his Four O'Clocks. I also bought a bag of wild flower seeds to sprinkle in our new bed, so as the Four O'Clocks die out, they should be replaced with some lovely summer flowers.
We were picking up the rest of the brick border when one of the bricks fell, hitting against the fourth finger on my right hand. It slit my finger significantly. Blood began pouring out of my finger and the skin was hanging off, only attached by a sliver. They sent us to Customer Service for doctoring but it wasn't long before my right hand began to ache.
Okay, I can get around without my left hand for a while as it heals, but no hands makes things a little difficult, especially when you're gardening.
Deanna's had to open bottles for me today as well as other various tasks while I've favored BOTH HANDS!
I found myself laughing today as she, once again, helped with something.
"I have a bum knee, two bum hands, and a bum left ankle. There's not much left of me that works. Daddy's going to trade me in on a newer model if I'm not careful."
Deanna grinned and nodded. Although I'm bruised and battered, I keep chugging along and it's amazing how much work is getting done in the yard. I've decided that prior planning, and making sure the kids are very clear the evening before what's expected of them the next day, is key to this yard work business. I just hope I don't mess up the right leg . . .
Monday, June 08, 2009
Mega Zucchini
When we got home from camping Saturday night, Dane and I took off outside with flashlights to check the garden. We couldn't wait to see what progress our plants had made while we were gone.
First, we went to the big garden in the back. One of our pickling cucumbers had two flowers. All the cucumbers had grown and two had even outgrown the stakes that seemed huge when we first put them beside our little plants. Our bush tomato was a full foot higher than the highest rung on the tomato cage and had miniature tomatoes and several more blooms, as did several more of the tomatoes, including my Roma's. The potatoes, which I planted by cutting 3 or four of our potatoes into individual eyes and burying each eye methodically (all the research I did said you can't use store-bought potatoes because they're treated to keep them from rooting - we tried anyway, and I'm sure glad we did), were much larger, the tallest measuring 8 - 12 inches in heighth. Dane and I counted 11 little potato plants. The bell peppers had flowers and the sweet banana peppers, which I planted very late, even were beginning to establish themselves. We were thrilled and oohed and ahhed excitedly about each little plant.
Then we moved to the box garden on the side of the house. We began pushing back leaves and checking for yellow, crooked-neck squash. We found some huge ones that shocked us both. All told, there were about 5 that were almost too big for the plant to sustain. Additionally, there were several that needed to be picked over the next two days. As I was finishing up with the yellow squash, Dane moved to the other side of the garden to check the zucchini. I heard a gasp, then a yell.
What, son?" I asked. "WHAT?"
Dane could hardly contain himself.
"Mama, you've got to SEE this!" he screamed at me. I sure hope none of the neighbors were trying to sleep.
I made my way to the other side of the garden. He was holding back leaves and pointing his flashlight at one of the biggest zucchini I've ever seen. We looked at each other and laughed.
I can't even imagine how that thing got so big in the 4 short days we were gone. Surely, it must've been ready to be picked before we even left for our camping trip. I suppose we may very well have just missed it amongst all the foliage. The yellow squash stand out amongst the green, but the zucchini are much harder to see. They look very much like the stalks on the leaves and can be difficult to pick out unless you look VERY carefully.
In addition to Mr. Mega Zucchini, we also found two others that were very large and needed picking. There are three more on the plants that will need to be picked tomorrow or the next day.
I plan to make zucchini bread with that largest one which is probably mostly seeds and not very good eating. The rest will need to be cooked up. Dane's birthday is Sunday and he wants them battered and fried in the deep fryer for his birthday dinner.
In the meanwhile, I'm looking for creative uses for yellow squash. I cooked a lot for dinner last night and cooked 3 more for my sister. I'm thinking about cooking up the rest and canning them. They'll be great this winter, when yellow squash is in short supply and the squash bores have long-since claimed our plants.
I'll have to take a picture of Mr. Mega Zucchini to post before I shred him. Dane will want to keep a record of some kind for posterity.
I just want to eat him.
First, we went to the big garden in the back. One of our pickling cucumbers had two flowers. All the cucumbers had grown and two had even outgrown the stakes that seemed huge when we first put them beside our little plants. Our bush tomato was a full foot higher than the highest rung on the tomato cage and had miniature tomatoes and several more blooms, as did several more of the tomatoes, including my Roma's. The potatoes, which I planted by cutting 3 or four of our potatoes into individual eyes and burying each eye methodically (all the research I did said you can't use store-bought potatoes because they're treated to keep them from rooting - we tried anyway, and I'm sure glad we did), were much larger, the tallest measuring 8 - 12 inches in heighth. Dane and I counted 11 little potato plants. The bell peppers had flowers and the sweet banana peppers, which I planted very late, even were beginning to establish themselves. We were thrilled and oohed and ahhed excitedly about each little plant.
Then we moved to the box garden on the side of the house. We began pushing back leaves and checking for yellow, crooked-neck squash. We found some huge ones that shocked us both. All told, there were about 5 that were almost too big for the plant to sustain. Additionally, there were several that needed to be picked over the next two days. As I was finishing up with the yellow squash, Dane moved to the other side of the garden to check the zucchini. I heard a gasp, then a yell.
What, son?" I asked. "WHAT?"
Dane could hardly contain himself.
"Mama, you've got to SEE this!" he screamed at me. I sure hope none of the neighbors were trying to sleep.
I made my way to the other side of the garden. He was holding back leaves and pointing his flashlight at one of the biggest zucchini I've ever seen. We looked at each other and laughed.
I can't even imagine how that thing got so big in the 4 short days we were gone. Surely, it must've been ready to be picked before we even left for our camping trip. I suppose we may very well have just missed it amongst all the foliage. The yellow squash stand out amongst the green, but the zucchini are much harder to see. They look very much like the stalks on the leaves and can be difficult to pick out unless you look VERY carefully.
In addition to Mr. Mega Zucchini, we also found two others that were very large and needed picking. There are three more on the plants that will need to be picked tomorrow or the next day.
I plan to make zucchini bread with that largest one which is probably mostly seeds and not very good eating. The rest will need to be cooked up. Dane's birthday is Sunday and he wants them battered and fried in the deep fryer for his birthday dinner.
In the meanwhile, I'm looking for creative uses for yellow squash. I cooked a lot for dinner last night and cooked 3 more for my sister. I'm thinking about cooking up the rest and canning them. They'll be great this winter, when yellow squash is in short supply and the squash bores have long-since claimed our plants.
I'll have to take a picture of Mr. Mega Zucchini to post before I shred him. Dane will want to keep a record of some kind for posterity.
I just want to eat him.
The Beginning of Summer
It's been awhile since I posted - the end-of-school craziness always leaves my head reeling and my feet running.
We've just finished the first full week of summer vacation, and what a fabulous start! Last Monday, the children and I worked hard all morning. Dane and I are making a new garden in the front yard and plan to move his Four O'clock's to it, then put a box garden (for vegetables) in the spot where his Four O'clock's have taken over. Dane has become Gardener Extraordinaire and I want him to have his own garden plot to plan and work.
We spent two hours cleaning up the area behind the swingset - weeding, digging up stuff that had begun to grow, and rooting out the vines with throns that are so plentiful in that area of the yard. It's amazing how much we got done and how much better the backyard looked after just two hours. Then Dane and I began turning over the soil in the area where we want to put the new garden. Daelyn worked on cleaning up under the deck until it was just too hot to do too much more. We left the project in the front for another day.
While we were doing that, Deanna worked inside, doing laundry, cleaning up the kitchen, and beginning to pack us. We spend most of Tuesday packing for our camping trip, which started on Wednesday.
As a reward for hard work, I took the kids out to the local lake Monday afternoon with my friend, Kelly, and her children. We swam, floated, dug in the sand, explored in the woods, and grilled Bubba Burgers and fresh yellow squash from our garden for dinner. It was dark by the time we got home, so the kids got a quick bath and headed straight to bed.
Wednesday dawned beautiful. We packed up the van, cleaned up the kitchen, and headed for a further lake, about 1 1/2 hrs. drive, to meet friends to camp for a few days. We had sent some of our stuff ahead with them, including our tent, and, when we arrived, they had already set it up. The kids helped me unload and we began setting up camp - pumping up air mattresses, putting up our canopy and tablecloth, setting up our work table and getting out my new Coleman stove that Don gave me for Christmas.
Without going into too much detail, we had a wonderful time. We were camped right in front of the boat dock and our friends, Ken and Karen, have a boat, so we swam off the dock and boated until we were exhausted and burned like lobsters fresh out of the pot. My dear friend, Anne, and I spent a lot of time on deck chairs on the dock visiting and watching the children swim and play. Across our inlet was a sandy beachy area (the kids called it "the island") and they spent a lot of time swimming over to it, then playing in the sand. I shelled pecans while Anne and I visited and, after the first day, discovered my knees had sunburned. My chest and my knees. No other part of my leg - just those knees that were poking up.
We skiied, we tubed, we swam and boated to our heart's content. We visited, we told stories, we snacked and read until we were quite satisfied. We enjoyed ourselves to our very core.
Now we're home and have days of work to do to get caught back up, but we're all happy and life is taking on a slower pace. I think I may try to plan camping trips for the very beginning of summer every year to help us adjust to summer rhythm.
Our plan for this summer is to make and wrap all the children's Christmas presents for family and friends (like usual), serve others (we've come up with a specific plan for serving outside the home), and beautify our house and yard. We'll work in the mornings, and do crafts, can, or swim in the afternoons.
Seems like a lot to accomplish, but I really believe we're moving at a much slower pace than during the school year, which we all need. I find it much easier to REST - completely and thoroughly, without the panic I normally feel to "get it all done". The kids are out in the yard now, after having worked yesterday afternoon to help unpack and clean up. The boys are having water gun fights and Deanna's reading on a swing up the backyard. I have dinner in the crockpot and am finishing up the laundry.
I love Summer. Then again, I love Spring with everything budding and beginning to grow. Spring carries with it hope and promise. And Winter contains Christmas, my favorite holiday, and cooler weather with fires and hot cocoa. Then there's Fall, with the smell of coldness, the start of school and order again. In fact, I think I love all seasons equally.
But right now, I love Summer the most.
We've just finished the first full week of summer vacation, and what a fabulous start! Last Monday, the children and I worked hard all morning. Dane and I are making a new garden in the front yard and plan to move his Four O'clock's to it, then put a box garden (for vegetables) in the spot where his Four O'clock's have taken over. Dane has become Gardener Extraordinaire and I want him to have his own garden plot to plan and work.
We spent two hours cleaning up the area behind the swingset - weeding, digging up stuff that had begun to grow, and rooting out the vines with throns that are so plentiful in that area of the yard. It's amazing how much we got done and how much better the backyard looked after just two hours. Then Dane and I began turning over the soil in the area where we want to put the new garden. Daelyn worked on cleaning up under the deck until it was just too hot to do too much more. We left the project in the front for another day.
While we were doing that, Deanna worked inside, doing laundry, cleaning up the kitchen, and beginning to pack us. We spend most of Tuesday packing for our camping trip, which started on Wednesday.
As a reward for hard work, I took the kids out to the local lake Monday afternoon with my friend, Kelly, and her children. We swam, floated, dug in the sand, explored in the woods, and grilled Bubba Burgers and fresh yellow squash from our garden for dinner. It was dark by the time we got home, so the kids got a quick bath and headed straight to bed.
Wednesday dawned beautiful. We packed up the van, cleaned up the kitchen, and headed for a further lake, about 1 1/2 hrs. drive, to meet friends to camp for a few days. We had sent some of our stuff ahead with them, including our tent, and, when we arrived, they had already set it up. The kids helped me unload and we began setting up camp - pumping up air mattresses, putting up our canopy and tablecloth, setting up our work table and getting out my new Coleman stove that Don gave me for Christmas.
Without going into too much detail, we had a wonderful time. We were camped right in front of the boat dock and our friends, Ken and Karen, have a boat, so we swam off the dock and boated until we were exhausted and burned like lobsters fresh out of the pot. My dear friend, Anne, and I spent a lot of time on deck chairs on the dock visiting and watching the children swim and play. Across our inlet was a sandy beachy area (the kids called it "the island") and they spent a lot of time swimming over to it, then playing in the sand. I shelled pecans while Anne and I visited and, after the first day, discovered my knees had sunburned. My chest and my knees. No other part of my leg - just those knees that were poking up.
We skiied, we tubed, we swam and boated to our heart's content. We visited, we told stories, we snacked and read until we were quite satisfied. We enjoyed ourselves to our very core.
Now we're home and have days of work to do to get caught back up, but we're all happy and life is taking on a slower pace. I think I may try to plan camping trips for the very beginning of summer every year to help us adjust to summer rhythm.
Our plan for this summer is to make and wrap all the children's Christmas presents for family and friends (like usual), serve others (we've come up with a specific plan for serving outside the home), and beautify our house and yard. We'll work in the mornings, and do crafts, can, or swim in the afternoons.
Seems like a lot to accomplish, but I really believe we're moving at a much slower pace than during the school year, which we all need. I find it much easier to REST - completely and thoroughly, without the panic I normally feel to "get it all done". The kids are out in the yard now, after having worked yesterday afternoon to help unpack and clean up. The boys are having water gun fights and Deanna's reading on a swing up the backyard. I have dinner in the crockpot and am finishing up the laundry.
I love Summer. Then again, I love Spring with everything budding and beginning to grow. Spring carries with it hope and promise. And Winter contains Christmas, my favorite holiday, and cooler weather with fires and hot cocoa. Then there's Fall, with the smell of coldness, the start of school and order again. In fact, I think I love all seasons equally.
But right now, I love Summer the most.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Commitment takes Many Different Forms
I've been having cramps lately. First, my thumb froze in place, pressed against my palm, not one, but three different times the same evening. I chalked it up to having a cast on the other hand and overusing my right hand. Several days later, my big toe froze poking straight up into the air. Weird! I could feel the muscle stretched across my arch knotting and spasming (Spellcheck doesn't think this is a word, but I KNOW better). Then, around 3 a.m. Wednesday morning, I woke violently to a charliehorse in my left calf. I could feel the muscle knotting, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I began yelling to Don and reaching for him, aimlessly thrashing my right arm his direction. For some reason, I have this VERY mistaken notion that he will massage my legs when I get cramps and help work them out.
I finally jumped up and began stomping my left foot on the ground, hoping to jolt the muscle back into compliance. It relaxed and I finally, gingerly, climbed back into bed.
"What was THAT all about?" Don asked.
"What do you mean? I had a cramp in my leg!"
"Well, why did you wake ME up?"
"I was hoping (emphasis) that you would get up and massage my leg. I needed HELP, honey!"
"Is THAT why you beat me mercilessly in the head?"
Long pause.
"I was concentrating on my leg. I didn't realize that was your head."
That evening, Don and I were to attend an appreciation function for the church volunteers. I wasn't sure if he would be able to make it or not. He called from work and, before I hung up, I asked,
"Not to put any pressure on you, honey, but do you think you'll be coming to the Party?"
"My plan is to leave work in enough time to get there. However . . . you beat me in the head last night!"
I wonder if anyone's ever written a book on the "true" cost of marriage?
I finally jumped up and began stomping my left foot on the ground, hoping to jolt the muscle back into compliance. It relaxed and I finally, gingerly, climbed back into bed.
"What was THAT all about?" Don asked.
"What do you mean? I had a cramp in my leg!"
"Well, why did you wake ME up?"
"I was hoping (emphasis) that you would get up and massage my leg. I needed HELP, honey!"
"Is THAT why you beat me mercilessly in the head?"
Long pause.
"I was concentrating on my leg. I didn't realize that was your head."
That evening, Don and I were to attend an appreciation function for the church volunteers. I wasn't sure if he would be able to make it or not. He called from work and, before I hung up, I asked,
"Not to put any pressure on you, honey, but do you think you'll be coming to the Party?"
"My plan is to leave work in enough time to get there. However . . . you beat me in the head last night!"
I wonder if anyone's ever written a book on the "true" cost of marriage?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
THE Game
Dane's baseball team played the team that all the rest of his classmates are on last night. The team is coached by two of Dane's friend's dads. The other boys began playing together in T-ball and the coaches moved up to each subsequent league with the boys, so they've been together now for many years. They're a very hard team to beat and play well together.
We didn't start Dane in baseball until much later than the other boys began. For various reasons, he didn't ever get on his classmate's team, which has been just fine. Dane loves the team he's played with for the last two years and really respects his coach. T.J. (Dane's coach) has been a constant encourager to Dane and has taught him well, even working with him to make him into a pitcher.
T.J. has told me several times this year that he wants to put Dane on Pitcher's Mound, but it hadn't yet happened. When I discovered we were playing this other team, I called the coach and suggested that this might be a good time. He told me later, at the game, that it was Divine Intervention, because he had been talking to his wife about getting some of the other boys up on the Mound since they'll be moving up to a new league next year and really need the experience. Nine of his players will move up and he had only used 3 as pitchers so far this year; his two regulars that he rotates and, in one game, he used one other boy.
At the start of the 3rd inning, I saw Dane trot out to the Mound and begin warming up with the catcher. I jumped up from where I was sitting right next to home plate and ran to an empty field where Daelyn was playing with some of Deanna's classmates.
"Daelyn," I yelled to him, "Dane is pitching. You need to come and watch!" Daelyn took off on a dead run to join the family. The opposing team's dugout was directly behind me when I yelled to Daelyn and, as I walked back to our side of the field, I heard an excitement growing from it.
"Dane's pitching!" "Dane's pitching?" "Dane?" "Yep! Dane's pitching!" "DANE's pitching!" "Dane IS pitching!" Bz-z-z-z-z-z-z, like a swarm of bees amongst his friends. Apparently, they were very surprised, but seemed pleased, as well.
It's a hard situation to watch. My son, on Pitcher's Mound, pitching against boys that I've known and loved since they were in the womb. Before he got on the Mound, I found myself routing for OUR team unless one of his classmates was up to bat. I couldn't help but yell encouragement to them.
"Hit it over the fence, J.P.!" I hollered. He turned and grinned at me. Later, I called to Ben.
"You can do it, Ben. Whack it good!" And Conor, "Come on, Conor, I know you've got it in you to get a homerun!" Booty, Sam . . . I had to root for these boys. The other moms on my team were scowling at me until one quiet, patient dad explained that these were all Dane's classmates. "OH!" yelled several moms, then turned and smiled at me, understanding in the way only a mother can.
But once Dane was standing out there, preparing to wind up, all I could think of was, "STRIKE HIM OUT, Son!" I didn't want to discourage these sweet boys that I love so much, so I walked a good ways away and joined Don and Ben's dad, an assistant coach on the other team, where they were standing, evaluating every pitch. I sat right up until J.P. took his batting stance, then I couldn't stand it any longer. It was like watching one brother pitching to his blood brother. These two, while they've strayed from each other over the last two years, have always been very close, like siblings. J.P. is an only child and I have a very close relationship with both his parents. We've been on vacation together and are going camping together right after school gets out. I just couldn't take it. That's when I joined Jimmy and Don. And, boy, was I glad I did.
Jimmy knows a lot about baseball - way more than me or Don. He explained to us that the coach wanted Dane to pitch high and outside on a particular batter, who was one of their best hitters, so he (the coach) had the catcher stand up and put his mitt on the outside. Dane always pitches to a glove. Wherever that glove sits, that's where he's going to aim his pitch. T.J. knew that (because that's how he's taught Dane, of course), so he moved the catcher around to where he wanted Dane to put the pitch. It was so exciting.
Anyway, he struck out the first batter, then walked one. The next hit they got out on base. Dane walked a second. Someone must've gotten a base hit, because the bases were loaded with two outs when this great batter stepped up. Jimmy was talking Don and I through every pitch. Strike, ball, ball, strike, ball . . . FULL COUNT! And with the bases loaded. If this guy got a hit off Dane, they would have gotten home some runs, maybe as many as FOUR! It was absolutely nail-biting.
"I can't take it! I can't watch," I mumbled, terror in my voice.
"Watch, Patti, watch!" Jimmy coaxed. "T.J. knows that with really strong batters, you pitch either low and outside or high and outside so they'll strike for it but miss. This guy tends to hit low, so T.J.'s having Dane pitch high and outside. Dane's doing a fabulous job and has a great delivery. T.J. knows what he's doing. Dane'll do it. Just watch."
Despite my protests, I couldn't peel my eyes away from the game. I think I held my breath for a full three minutes as Dane wound up for the final pitch. What would it be? Would he throw a wild ball with all the pressure, walking the batter and forcing a runner home? Or could he control himself, with as little experience as he has, and throw that pitch just where T.J. wanted, egging the batter to reach for a ball just outside his strike zone and shut down the inning? Could he do it? I really didn't know. Jimmy seemed very certain that Dane could, but I wasn't so sure.
As soon as the ball left Dane's hand, before it even reached home plate, Jimmy said, "That's it! Dane DID it!" Sure enough. High and outside. The batter stuck at it but couldn't quite stretch far enough. THE THIRD OUT!
Dane trotted off the field, a great big smile on his face.
"I'm going to go talk to him," Jimmy said. "He did a GREAT job!"
Isn't it wonderful to have friends that love your children so much. The coach of the opposing team came over to congratulate Dane on a job well-done in the middle of the game. I really love our life.
Matt, the Head Coach of the other team, threw the game ball to Dane with a smile. After the first half of the next inning, the game was called - 4 to 2, but one of their runs was a bad call by the Umpire and the game should have been 3 - 2. We lost, but held our own really well. It was a game played with pride.
In our dugout after the game was over, T.J. gave his usual pep talk. He always highlights all the good plays of the game and talks about plays that should have worked better. Mostly, though, he encourages the boys to have fun and play like a team. He announced that he doesn't believe in giving out Game Balls, because every player is just one on a team and it takes the entire team to win a game, but he wanted to make an exception in this game. He wanted Dane to take the Game Ball, take it into school today, and show his friends.
"There was a lot of trash talk about Dane not being able to pitch from the other team," he said. (I told him that. Dane's been telling me for weeks that the boys in his class have been saying, "You can't pitch." "You're not a pitcher." "I don't believe you pitch!", etc. That's what T.J. was referring to, I believe. I didn't hear any trash talk during the game.) "I think he proved them wrong real well. And I think he deserves this Game Ball. This was his first time pitching, he didn't give up ONE run. Way to go, Dane."
When we got home, Dane had me write the date, "Game Ball" and "Pitched 3rd Inning" on the ball in Sharpie for him. It's quite a treasure. I just wish I could go to school with him today and hear what his friends have to say about his pitching. I'm sure they'll be encouraging. They're all good boys. They just hadn't ever seen him pitch before. That's not the case now!
I don't know if he'll get the chance to pitch anymore this season, but he made himself (and us) proud. And he pitched as well as the two boys T.J. typically uses to pitch, maybe better than one of them. It'll be interesting to see if he gets used again, but there are lots of other boys on the team who want a chance to pitch in a game, too, and deserve that right.
Today, I'll be walking with my head held high and my chest puffed up just a little. I think Dane actually looked a little taller today before school. Or maybe it was an illusion because of the grin and gleam in his eye.
We didn't start Dane in baseball until much later than the other boys began. For various reasons, he didn't ever get on his classmate's team, which has been just fine. Dane loves the team he's played with for the last two years and really respects his coach. T.J. (Dane's coach) has been a constant encourager to Dane and has taught him well, even working with him to make him into a pitcher.
T.J. has told me several times this year that he wants to put Dane on Pitcher's Mound, but it hadn't yet happened. When I discovered we were playing this other team, I called the coach and suggested that this might be a good time. He told me later, at the game, that it was Divine Intervention, because he had been talking to his wife about getting some of the other boys up on the Mound since they'll be moving up to a new league next year and really need the experience. Nine of his players will move up and he had only used 3 as pitchers so far this year; his two regulars that he rotates and, in one game, he used one other boy.
At the start of the 3rd inning, I saw Dane trot out to the Mound and begin warming up with the catcher. I jumped up from where I was sitting right next to home plate and ran to an empty field where Daelyn was playing with some of Deanna's classmates.
"Daelyn," I yelled to him, "Dane is pitching. You need to come and watch!" Daelyn took off on a dead run to join the family. The opposing team's dugout was directly behind me when I yelled to Daelyn and, as I walked back to our side of the field, I heard an excitement growing from it.
"Dane's pitching!" "Dane's pitching?" "Dane?" "Yep! Dane's pitching!" "DANE's pitching!" "Dane IS pitching!" Bz-z-z-z-z-z-z, like a swarm of bees amongst his friends. Apparently, they were very surprised, but seemed pleased, as well.
It's a hard situation to watch. My son, on Pitcher's Mound, pitching against boys that I've known and loved since they were in the womb. Before he got on the Mound, I found myself routing for OUR team unless one of his classmates was up to bat. I couldn't help but yell encouragement to them.
"Hit it over the fence, J.P.!" I hollered. He turned and grinned at me. Later, I called to Ben.
"You can do it, Ben. Whack it good!" And Conor, "Come on, Conor, I know you've got it in you to get a homerun!" Booty, Sam . . . I had to root for these boys. The other moms on my team were scowling at me until one quiet, patient dad explained that these were all Dane's classmates. "OH!" yelled several moms, then turned and smiled at me, understanding in the way only a mother can.
But once Dane was standing out there, preparing to wind up, all I could think of was, "STRIKE HIM OUT, Son!" I didn't want to discourage these sweet boys that I love so much, so I walked a good ways away and joined Don and Ben's dad, an assistant coach on the other team, where they were standing, evaluating every pitch. I sat right up until J.P. took his batting stance, then I couldn't stand it any longer. It was like watching one brother pitching to his blood brother. These two, while they've strayed from each other over the last two years, have always been very close, like siblings. J.P. is an only child and I have a very close relationship with both his parents. We've been on vacation together and are going camping together right after school gets out. I just couldn't take it. That's when I joined Jimmy and Don. And, boy, was I glad I did.
Jimmy knows a lot about baseball - way more than me or Don. He explained to us that the coach wanted Dane to pitch high and outside on a particular batter, who was one of their best hitters, so he (the coach) had the catcher stand up and put his mitt on the outside. Dane always pitches to a glove. Wherever that glove sits, that's where he's going to aim his pitch. T.J. knew that (because that's how he's taught Dane, of course), so he moved the catcher around to where he wanted Dane to put the pitch. It was so exciting.
Anyway, he struck out the first batter, then walked one. The next hit they got out on base. Dane walked a second. Someone must've gotten a base hit, because the bases were loaded with two outs when this great batter stepped up. Jimmy was talking Don and I through every pitch. Strike, ball, ball, strike, ball . . . FULL COUNT! And with the bases loaded. If this guy got a hit off Dane, they would have gotten home some runs, maybe as many as FOUR! It was absolutely nail-biting.
"I can't take it! I can't watch," I mumbled, terror in my voice.
"Watch, Patti, watch!" Jimmy coaxed. "T.J. knows that with really strong batters, you pitch either low and outside or high and outside so they'll strike for it but miss. This guy tends to hit low, so T.J.'s having Dane pitch high and outside. Dane's doing a fabulous job and has a great delivery. T.J. knows what he's doing. Dane'll do it. Just watch."
Despite my protests, I couldn't peel my eyes away from the game. I think I held my breath for a full three minutes as Dane wound up for the final pitch. What would it be? Would he throw a wild ball with all the pressure, walking the batter and forcing a runner home? Or could he control himself, with as little experience as he has, and throw that pitch just where T.J. wanted, egging the batter to reach for a ball just outside his strike zone and shut down the inning? Could he do it? I really didn't know. Jimmy seemed very certain that Dane could, but I wasn't so sure.
As soon as the ball left Dane's hand, before it even reached home plate, Jimmy said, "That's it! Dane DID it!" Sure enough. High and outside. The batter stuck at it but couldn't quite stretch far enough. THE THIRD OUT!
Dane trotted off the field, a great big smile on his face.
"I'm going to go talk to him," Jimmy said. "He did a GREAT job!"
Isn't it wonderful to have friends that love your children so much. The coach of the opposing team came over to congratulate Dane on a job well-done in the middle of the game. I really love our life.
Matt, the Head Coach of the other team, threw the game ball to Dane with a smile. After the first half of the next inning, the game was called - 4 to 2, but one of their runs was a bad call by the Umpire and the game should have been 3 - 2. We lost, but held our own really well. It was a game played with pride.
In our dugout after the game was over, T.J. gave his usual pep talk. He always highlights all the good plays of the game and talks about plays that should have worked better. Mostly, though, he encourages the boys to have fun and play like a team. He announced that he doesn't believe in giving out Game Balls, because every player is just one on a team and it takes the entire team to win a game, but he wanted to make an exception in this game. He wanted Dane to take the Game Ball, take it into school today, and show his friends.
"There was a lot of trash talk about Dane not being able to pitch from the other team," he said. (I told him that. Dane's been telling me for weeks that the boys in his class have been saying, "You can't pitch." "You're not a pitcher." "I don't believe you pitch!", etc. That's what T.J. was referring to, I believe. I didn't hear any trash talk during the game.) "I think he proved them wrong real well. And I think he deserves this Game Ball. This was his first time pitching, he didn't give up ONE run. Way to go, Dane."
When we got home, Dane had me write the date, "Game Ball" and "Pitched 3rd Inning" on the ball in Sharpie for him. It's quite a treasure. I just wish I could go to school with him today and hear what his friends have to say about his pitching. I'm sure they'll be encouraging. They're all good boys. They just hadn't ever seen him pitch before. That's not the case now!
I don't know if he'll get the chance to pitch anymore this season, but he made himself (and us) proud. And he pitched as well as the two boys T.J. typically uses to pitch, maybe better than one of them. It'll be interesting to see if he gets used again, but there are lots of other boys on the team who want a chance to pitch in a game, too, and deserve that right.
Today, I'll be walking with my head held high and my chest puffed up just a little. I think Dane actually looked a little taller today before school. Or maybe it was an illusion because of the grin and gleam in his eye.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
News of my Hand
I'm in a cast. The Orthopod did an X-ray and said he didn't see any broken bones. However, he said, broken bones in the hand frequently don't show up on traditional X-rays and require an MRI to accurately diagnose.
Meanwhile, at the minimum, I have a bruised bone on the outside of my hand (where the lump is) and several bruised muscles underneath the thumb, which he says has many muscles. He believes the only way it will heal is to immobilize it to give my body time to work on the injuries.
He ordered a removable cast. They made it right there in his office, which was quite cool. I just wish the boys had been with me to watch the process. Modern medical science is amazing. They cut it off while it was still wet, cut an opening the length of it, covered all the edges with soft material, then put velcro straps on the opening to hold it together. The technician that made the cast told me that I could wash it in the top shelf of the dishwasher, if necessary.
The doctor told me I should wear it as much as possible.
"Can you give me an idea of how many hours a day I should wear it?" I asked him.
"Just whenever you're doing nothing," he said. "You should wear it every night while you sleep and while driving, and while you're watching T.V. at night."
I laughed.
"While I watch T.V. at night, I'm either doing hand-sewing or shelling pecans or stripping the dog. I seldom just 'sit' to watch T.V." I explained.
"No hand-sewing, pecan-shelling, or dog-stripping for the next two weeks," he responded. "I see you're going to give me trouble."
Yep. Now he's beginning to get the picture.
He explained that the cast would make me feel so much better that soon I'd want to wear it all the time. While I found that doubtful, that has turned out to be the case. I'm to wear the cast as much as possible for two weeks, then I have a return appointment. If I'm not significantly better at that point, he'll send me for an MRI and look for fractures.
The cast hurt for the first couple of days. It was almost a relief to remove it. But my hand really is beginning to feel much better and I find now that I'm reluctant to remove it. Of course, I took it off to get my garden in the ground on Saturday. And I take it off to cook and clean the kitchen and wash the dishes. But I'm trying to learn to do more while wearing it so I'll get the full benefit.
Boy, do people ask a lot of questions. It's very kind that they care, but even the children's friends are all abuzz about it. Within the first 24 hours, I finally decided to just smile and nod when they ask, "How did you break it?" It's easier to let them think it's broken than to have to explain the whole situation to every inquisitive little mind.
The children have been very helpful, as has Don, but I've been a little slower than usual. You should see me trying to get my seatbelt on. The cast immobilizes my thumb to let those muscles heal, so I can bend my four fingers down to the middle knuckle, and that's the most my hand functions. Since the seatbelt is on the left and my cast doesn't fit between the seat and door, I have to open the door and reach around with my right hand to get it and pull it around me. Deanna had to help me dress this morning.
Anyway, life is always an adventure, I've decided. While this is an inconvenience, it's not really too bad and it's given my children a chance to help more around the house. I'm not quite sure why I'm so upbeat these days. Maybe it's the medication my OB/GYN gave me. Perhaps it's because summer is JUST around the corner. Or maybe it's feeling like I'm getting some things accomplished. I don't know. I only know that life is good and I'm happy. I love my husband and children. I have great friends and a wonderful life. I have an amazing extended family that cherishes my family and a church home that nourishes our souls. God is good, and He continues to pour out His love and acceptance on us.
Even in casts.
Meanwhile, at the minimum, I have a bruised bone on the outside of my hand (where the lump is) and several bruised muscles underneath the thumb, which he says has many muscles. He believes the only way it will heal is to immobilize it to give my body time to work on the injuries.
He ordered a removable cast. They made it right there in his office, which was quite cool. I just wish the boys had been with me to watch the process. Modern medical science is amazing. They cut it off while it was still wet, cut an opening the length of it, covered all the edges with soft material, then put velcro straps on the opening to hold it together. The technician that made the cast told me that I could wash it in the top shelf of the dishwasher, if necessary.
The doctor told me I should wear it as much as possible.
"Can you give me an idea of how many hours a day I should wear it?" I asked him.
"Just whenever you're doing nothing," he said. "You should wear it every night while you sleep and while driving, and while you're watching T.V. at night."
I laughed.
"While I watch T.V. at night, I'm either doing hand-sewing or shelling pecans or stripping the dog. I seldom just 'sit' to watch T.V." I explained.
"No hand-sewing, pecan-shelling, or dog-stripping for the next two weeks," he responded. "I see you're going to give me trouble."
Yep. Now he's beginning to get the picture.
He explained that the cast would make me feel so much better that soon I'd want to wear it all the time. While I found that doubtful, that has turned out to be the case. I'm to wear the cast as much as possible for two weeks, then I have a return appointment. If I'm not significantly better at that point, he'll send me for an MRI and look for fractures.
The cast hurt for the first couple of days. It was almost a relief to remove it. But my hand really is beginning to feel much better and I find now that I'm reluctant to remove it. Of course, I took it off to get my garden in the ground on Saturday. And I take it off to cook and clean the kitchen and wash the dishes. But I'm trying to learn to do more while wearing it so I'll get the full benefit.
Boy, do people ask a lot of questions. It's very kind that they care, but even the children's friends are all abuzz about it. Within the first 24 hours, I finally decided to just smile and nod when they ask, "How did you break it?" It's easier to let them think it's broken than to have to explain the whole situation to every inquisitive little mind.
The children have been very helpful, as has Don, but I've been a little slower than usual. You should see me trying to get my seatbelt on. The cast immobilizes my thumb to let those muscles heal, so I can bend my four fingers down to the middle knuckle, and that's the most my hand functions. Since the seatbelt is on the left and my cast doesn't fit between the seat and door, I have to open the door and reach around with my right hand to get it and pull it around me. Deanna had to help me dress this morning.
Anyway, life is always an adventure, I've decided. While this is an inconvenience, it's not really too bad and it's given my children a chance to help more around the house. I'm not quite sure why I'm so upbeat these days. Maybe it's the medication my OB/GYN gave me. Perhaps it's because summer is JUST around the corner. Or maybe it's feeling like I'm getting some things accomplished. I don't know. I only know that life is good and I'm happy. I love my husband and children. I have great friends and a wonderful life. I have an amazing extended family that cherishes my family and a church home that nourishes our souls. God is good, and He continues to pour out His love and acceptance on us.
Even in casts.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Squah Blooms
There must be 15 open blooms on my crooked-neck squash plants this morning! It's so exciting! The temperature has dropped, it rained hard yesterday, and today it's only in the 50's (rare for May in Georgia). After dropping the kids at school, I took a toothpick and went outside to try and cross-pollinate my squashies. Most of the blooms were female, with little tiny fruit on the end, but I found about 4 - 5 male blooms and scraped pollen off them, then transferred it into the female blooms. With the weather being cool today, there's very little insect movement and it's the bees that generally handle the pollination of fruit.
I don't think the blooms stay open but two days, anyway, a very short time, so I was concerned. We should know in another couple of days if my efforts worked. Here's hoping!
I finished up my blackberry syrup last night and made 3 jars of blackberry jelly. There was enough left in the pan for a small jar for us to eat. The children had it with breakfast. Between the blueberry jelly I made in April, the strawberry jam I made in April, the mint jelly from earlier in May, and the blackberry from yesterday, I have quite the stock of homemade jams and jellies. Now I'm ready to branch out into green beans, which I'm hoping to can today. My cousin in Canada (Calvin's sister, Kathy), has sent me a recipe and some of her tips. I cleaned and sorted the beans last night to get them all ready.
This is so much fun. And I should know enough by the time my garden is producing to be able to put up my own vegetables this year . . . if we stay in town long enough.
I don't think the blooms stay open but two days, anyway, a very short time, so I was concerned. We should know in another couple of days if my efforts worked. Here's hoping!
I finished up my blackberry syrup last night and made 3 jars of blackberry jelly. There was enough left in the pan for a small jar for us to eat. The children had it with breakfast. Between the blueberry jelly I made in April, the strawberry jam I made in April, the mint jelly from earlier in May, and the blackberry from yesterday, I have quite the stock of homemade jams and jellies. Now I'm ready to branch out into green beans, which I'm hoping to can today. My cousin in Canada (Calvin's sister, Kathy), has sent me a recipe and some of her tips. I cleaned and sorted the beans last night to get them all ready.
This is so much fun. And I should know enough by the time my garden is producing to be able to put up my own vegetables this year . . . if we stay in town long enough.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Summer Sunday
As we were leaving Choir Practice Wednesday a week ago, the boys discovered wild blackberries growing in amongst the shrubbery that borders our Christian Ed building. We took the time to pick a few. They were very tart (typical for wild berries) but flavorful. Since our Choir Concert was last Wednesday, we hadn't yet checked in on them again.
Our Church Picnic was today. I don't know exactly why I thought about the berries, but when the picnic was over at a nearby park, I loaded up the boys (Deanna wanted to go home with her Daddy - we had to drive separately because Deanna sang this morning for church and had to be there by 9:15. I didn't need to be there until 10:00), borrowed some gallon-size Ziploc bags, and headed back to the church for berry picking.
We had a wonderful time and found tons of wild blackberries just waiting to be picked. We half-filled both of the gallon bags, then headed home. I cleaned them and cooked them down, then made a batch of blackberry syrup and three jars of blackberry jelly.
This evening, as they munched on dinner, we reminisced about the day. We got to sleep in. Then, before dressing for church, I harvested my basil (for the second time), some dill, and parsley and began cleaning it. Deanna sang beautifully at church and the sermon was particularly short. Then, off to the picnic, which was a blast. We followed that up with berry-picking and jelly-making. What an amazing day.
It already feels like summer. Only 2 more weeks of school to go.
I'm counting down.
Our Church Picnic was today. I don't know exactly why I thought about the berries, but when the picnic was over at a nearby park, I loaded up the boys (Deanna wanted to go home with her Daddy - we had to drive separately because Deanna sang this morning for church and had to be there by 9:15. I didn't need to be there until 10:00), borrowed some gallon-size Ziploc bags, and headed back to the church for berry picking.
We had a wonderful time and found tons of wild blackberries just waiting to be picked. We half-filled both of the gallon bags, then headed home. I cleaned them and cooked them down, then made a batch of blackberry syrup and three jars of blackberry jelly.
This evening, as they munched on dinner, we reminisced about the day. We got to sleep in. Then, before dressing for church, I harvested my basil (for the second time), some dill, and parsley and began cleaning it. Deanna sang beautifully at church and the sermon was particularly short. Then, off to the picnic, which was a blast. We followed that up with berry-picking and jelly-making. What an amazing day.
It already feels like summer. Only 2 more weeks of school to go.
I'm counting down.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
A Little Confused
While eating lunch, Deanna and I were talking about how simple and humbly our neighbors live.
"Let's not talk about the neighbors anymore," Daelyn said.
"Why, son?"
"Well, isn't it GOSSIP?" he asked.
"No, dear," I explained. "Gossip is when you are talking about other people in a way that causes the listener to think badly or less of the person. Were we saying anything about Bud and Grace that made you feel bad about them?"
"NO!" Daelyn said very emphatically. Then, after a moment of silence, he added,
"I think bad thoughts about the Bad People off and off."
Deanna and I glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. (By the way, the "Bad People" are a family that live directly behind us, separated by an 8-ft. wooden fence. Their habits are quite questionable, and when I asked the local policeman about them, he said, "Oh. You mean the Crack House!" Thus, the Bad People.) Daelyn saw the look pass between us.
"Okay," he corrected. "Then, on and on."
This time, Deanna and I couldn't help ourselves. We snickered.
"Daelyn," I told him, "the saying is 'off and on', dear."
"Sor -r-r-y!" he responded, sounding irritated. "Sometimes I don't remember Nursery Rhymes!"
"Let's not talk about the neighbors anymore," Daelyn said.
"Why, son?"
"Well, isn't it GOSSIP?" he asked.
"No, dear," I explained. "Gossip is when you are talking about other people in a way that causes the listener to think badly or less of the person. Were we saying anything about Bud and Grace that made you feel bad about them?"
"NO!" Daelyn said very emphatically. Then, after a moment of silence, he added,
"I think bad thoughts about the Bad People off and off."
Deanna and I glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. (By the way, the "Bad People" are a family that live directly behind us, separated by an 8-ft. wooden fence. Their habits are quite questionable, and when I asked the local policeman about them, he said, "Oh. You mean the Crack House!" Thus, the Bad People.) Daelyn saw the look pass between us.
"Okay," he corrected. "Then, on and on."
This time, Deanna and I couldn't help ourselves. We snickered.
"Daelyn," I told him, "the saying is 'off and on', dear."
"Sor -r-r-y!" he responded, sounding irritated. "Sometimes I don't remember Nursery Rhymes!"
Friday, May 15, 2009
That Lump in my Hand
Okay, one more, since I'm a few Posts behind this week. But a short one, for Grandma Doughty, who doesn't like reading my long posts.
The hand that got slammed in my mother's car door last Tuesday . . . I was at the ENT's office yesterday (he gave me a steroid shot in my arm and it ached all day) and showed him my hand. I have a long lump near the outside of my hand where there shouldn't be any. He thinks I've got a broken bone in my hand and recommended that I see an Orthopod immediately. He said that you can chip small bones in your hand very easily and not have any decreased mobility. However, the bones often migrate and can lodge in a nerve or muscle, significantly debilitating my hand.
I called my Orthopedic doctor yesterday and have a 2 p.m. appointment today. I'm hoping it's just a hematoma and not serious. Don, however, is talking about the possibility of them taking me immediately into surgery to remove bone chips.
I think he's thinking a little too far to the extreme, although this is a remote possibility, I admit.
Anyway, I should know something by this evening. Maybe a cast, maybe a splint, or maybe nothing. I'm hoping for the nothing.
The hand that got slammed in my mother's car door last Tuesday . . . I was at the ENT's office yesterday (he gave me a steroid shot in my arm and it ached all day) and showed him my hand. I have a long lump near the outside of my hand where there shouldn't be any. He thinks I've got a broken bone in my hand and recommended that I see an Orthopod immediately. He said that you can chip small bones in your hand very easily and not have any decreased mobility. However, the bones often migrate and can lodge in a nerve or muscle, significantly debilitating my hand.
I called my Orthopedic doctor yesterday and have a 2 p.m. appointment today. I'm hoping it's just a hematoma and not serious. Don, however, is talking about the possibility of them taking me immediately into surgery to remove bone chips.
I think he's thinking a little too far to the extreme, although this is a remote possibility, I admit.
Anyway, I should know something by this evening. Maybe a cast, maybe a splint, or maybe nothing. I'm hoping for the nothing.
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