Lamenting

Cough, cough . . . groan; cough, cough . . . clear throat, groan, blow nose.

My head aches, my throat hurts, my ears are congested, I can't breath. I feel terrible.

I don't think it's the flu, I think it's just a cold, but BOY, do I ever feel bad.

I'm going to have a cup of hot Theraflu and go to bed early; as soon as I get the boys down. It would be just plain dangerous to hit the sack before them.

But I feel like I could sleep for 2 solid weeks. Sure wish I could.

Round Robin

It seems to have moved through the family and lighted on me. Last week, Deanna was home sick Thursday and Friday. By Saturday, she was coughing so hard, I made her a hot buttered rum (yes, I know she's only 13, but I HAD to do something) at 12:30 a.m. so she could get some sleep. The hot drink and the little dab of alcohol I put in it calmed her cough down and she finally was able to get some rest. By Sunday, she was feeling noticeably better and we decided it was just a bad cold. Then Dane came home from his camp-out, went straight into the bathroom for a hot bath, and emerged (at 9 a.m.) in his pajamas.

"I don't feel well, Mama," he said. Gee, that wasn't obvious. "I can't seem to get warm."

I kept him home Monday, but he was feeling better yesterday, except for his cough. I've been giving him breathing treatments, which help tremendously. Without them, he has that choking, never-stopping constricted cough. But he went back to school yesterday and did fine.

Yesterday, Daelyn began complaining of a sore throat. I wasn't surprised. I asked him to have his daddy give him some medicine before bed. By the time I crawled into bed myself, my throat was sore and my nose congested.

Daelyn decided he'd rather brave school than brave spending the whole day with Mommy today, so he threw his school clothes on at the last minute and took off out the door with his siblings. I have been wandering around the house, a little oblivious, in a daze of drippy nose and fuzzy head.

My prayer is that Don doesn't get it. He's working so hard these days and such long hours, he just can't afford to be sick. It's straining him to the absolute limits to be doing all he's doing already - adding illness to that is not an option.

I guess I'm going to have to put our 10 second daily kisses on hold for a couple of days in the hopes of preserving his health. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm sure there'll be an opportunity to explain it in another Post.

Camping - without me!

Don and the boys are camping out this weekend. It's a Boy/Cub Scout thing. Last year, we did it as a family, but I couldn't handle another weekend away from home, so Don got duty.

I was a little concerned about the event with the weather turning cool and the rain. The same thing happened last year - driving rain, freezing temperatures. We slept in gloves and knit caps to stay warm. This year, I packed lots of layers for the kids, including warm socks to wear in their sleeping bags.

They came home midday today to take showers and change into clean, dry clothes. Dane was fussing about not needing a shower and how he was going to miss the knife activity where they got to sharpen a stick. Daelyn seemed happy to see me and Don just needed a bit of relief.

I know they're having a wonderful time but I'm glad I'm at home in dry warmth. Besides, this is a great opportunity for their daddy to bond with them over a male thing.

I plan to pop some corn, have a friend over to visit, and cuddle up on the couch and read for a while. We had Deanna checked out by a good friend who's a Physician's Assistant and she said Deanna's moving air well and she didn't hear wheezing or rattling, so I'm comfortable holding off on taking her to the Emergency Room this evening.

I seldom enjoy having Don gone and I can't really say I've enjoyed the quiet in the house, but I HAVE had an opportunity to get some work done that seldom gets touched. All too soon, the weekend and camping trip will be over and we'll be back to the weekly grind. So, I'm taking advantage of every minute tonight.

Where's that unopened bottle of wine?

Pending Surgery

Just a quick update. I had an appointment with my Hand doctor today and I will be undergoing surgery on my left thumb, most likely within the next month.

I have significant arthritis in the joint which has caused me a lot of pain. At my last appointment with the hand specialist, he gave me a cortizone shot, hoping it would give me several months of relief. It lasted 6 weeks.

The surgery is very successful and done under local anesthesia at a surgical center as an outpatient. They will remove a tendon from my left arm, remove a bone from the thumb joint and sew the tendon in the place of the bone, creating a cushion.

Recovery is a whole nother issue. I'll be in a cast for 28 days, then will have therapy twice a week for 8 weeks. Total recovery will take between 9 months and a year.

Anyway, it will be good to not have to deal with this pain long-term. However, I HATE surgery, and it seems I've had well more than my fair share.

Foggy Memories

While I was at the Reunion this weekend, I got to look through a few Annuals. At SHAPE, high school began in the 7th grade and I left in the 6th, so the Yearbooks from the year after we left had pictures of many of my classmates.

In the military, people come and go rather quickly. In one year's time, more than half of the students in the 7th grade were new. One of the guys at the Reunion told me that there were 5 families, all with classmates of his, on the same flight back to the States with his family. Five not only left the exact same day, but were on the same flight. Interesting.

Anyway, there were a lot of new faces in that one year after we left, but there were a lot that I recognized, also. It had been a very long time since I had seen pictures of my elementary classmates, and it jogged lots of memories and made we wonder what had happened to all those people.

When I got home, I decided to begin searching for some of them and was surprised to discover that one of my old friends that I had already found was in contact with another old friend. Andrea Trumbull, whose father was a teacher in the high school, lived in Belgium her entire childhood. She graduated from SHAPE and moved to the States to attend college, living with an older sister who was married. We've been in touch for about a year now. But when I went to her Facebook page, I discovered she had found the third in our trio, Julie Fossum. I've thought about Julie so often, and even tried to find her, but that was before Facebook and I had no idea if she had married and what her name might be.

Of course, I immediately sent Julie and friend request. Last night, we exchanged messages, getting caught up on each other's lives. From her friends list, I found another of our classmates, Jerry Pearce. I'm sure there were lots of kids that I didn't know well, but Jerry wasn't one of them. He was a fun-loving, larger-than-life guy, and I was delighted to discover him again. Funny thing is, though, his profile picture looked exactly the same as how I remembered him from the 5th grade, except for a little facial hair. I would've recognized Julie from her picture, too. She looks very much the same, but looks even more like her older brother looked back in SHAPE.

This has gotten me motivated. I'm working hard at finding some of my other classmates that I still remember. Not a lot of luck so far. I've made contact with a Suzy Stack and a Jerry Minerich, but both of them are not the ones from my past.

I'm going to keep trying. More and more people are joining Facebook all the time and most women seem to include their maiden names. It's the best possibility I've ever had of finding these old friends.

Another Reunion

In November of 1969, my father was transferred with the Army from Taipei, Taiwan to SHAPE Belgium. SHAPE stood for Supreme Headquarters, Allied Powers, Europe. Essentially, it was the headquarters for NATO, which had previously been housed in Paris and was moved to Mons, Belgium a couple of years before we arrived. The Class of 1968 was the first graduating class from the school in Belgium.

I was in the 3rd grade when we moved. We lived there until November of 1972, when my father was reassigned to Ft. Gordon, Georgia, from whence he eventually retired. My only brother, Chuck, graduated from SHAPE in 1971 and my oldest sister, Tenny, graduated in December of 1972, early, staying behind and living with family friends so she could finish out the semester and graduate, joining us in the states for Christmas. So, our family boasts two alumni of SHAPE American High School.

The thing about being the youngest of five is that I knew all my siblings friends and classmates. On a military base in a foreign country, most everyone knew each other and there was a strong sense of comraderie, a tight bond that most Americans have never experienced. Add that to the ages of my siblings and the fact that most of the military families were large and my friends often had older brothers or sisters that were friends of my siblings, and we all seemed like one big, happy (albeit sometimes trying) family.

Since most of the graduates of SHAPE return to the States eventually, over the years there have been SHAPE Reunions hosted in different parts of the U.S. My two oldest sisters attended one in Arizona in 1989 and had a wonderful time. They reconnected with many old friends and there were even a few of my friends who attended. This past weekend, a SHAPE Reunion was held in Myrtle Beach, SC - a 4-hour drive from us. My brother, who hasn't seen many of his high school classmates since graduation, decided to go. My middle sister, Toni, also decided to go. Half an hour before they planned on leaving, I threw my name into the mix, hurriedly packed, and headed out with them.

The organizer, one of Chuck's classmates, had rented several houses in North Myrtle Beach. One very-large, 3-story home with a pool (right ON the beach, as were all the homes that housed the attendees), was the hospitality suite. All the meals were served there, buffet-style. Everyone milled around the decks, living rooms and kitchen, visiting with old friends and other alumni who lived in SHAPE during a different timeframe. We got reacquainted with old friends, we visited with siblings of our friends, and we made new friends. It really was a wonderful way to do a Reunion.

I was amazed how many people I recognized. Many of them look the same. From all over the room, you'd see someone stick out there hand and hear, "Who are YOU?" being repeated over and over. It would've been nice to have had nametags, but someone said, "It's more fun this way - it makes you think and you reach out to even people you didn't know." There was even one graduate from my class, although he arrived in SHAPE after we had already left. We sat on the couch together, poring over Annuals, refreshing our memories to all the people we had spent those years with. Although he was there after me, we knew and had been good friends with many of the same people.

I found it a little surprising how many of these women had married military men and how many of the men had gone into military service. It seemed like half of them had been fighter pilots. Many had seen combat and it was a little weird talking with kids that we grew up with and hearing stories from them that sounded much like my father's. Lots of them had stayed in touch over the years. There was one guy there who had been the HUNK of the high school. He dated one of the prettiest girls in school and they married after returning to the States. She's still beautiful and he still has that easy smile although he's lost all his hair (which was very long and a lovely color of light brown in high school). The man's younger brother was a good friend of mine and had been scheduled to come to the reunion, backing out at the last minute. Saturday evening, Scott told me he had spoken to Mark on the phone and told him I was there. Mark had sent along well-wishes for me. I told Scott to tell him he'd better be at the next Reunion.

My favorite part was watching my brother, eyes shining with memories and the rekindling of friendships, sitting around with a group of his buddies from high school talking about motorcycles. Chuck was always looked up to by the younger guys and that is still happening. I overheard some women talking about taking pictures "on Chuck's motorcycle" and giggling like schoolgirls. I was standing visiting with people several times when Chuck walked by and there was a real sense of deference and respect towards him.

Toni and I were given a bedroom in another beach house about a mile further up the beach. Turns out, the other people assigned to that house were all classmates of hers. We headed back to our house around 10:30 Saturday night. The noise, heat, and crowds at the main house were a little much for us. I planned on climbing into bed and reading for awhile before going to sleep. Toni was hoping to visit with her friends.

When we got to the house, everyone had gathered in the living room. There were just enough couches and easy chairs for all of us. The whole group sat in the living room telling stories, talking about other classmates and where they are now, and reminiscing. It was such fun, I hung out for another two hours. I couldn't get over seeing my sister sitting with the same people, all these years later. Periodically, I'd glance around and couldn't hide my smile. There really was something amazing about seeing all those people again.

Someday, I'm going to spend some time thinking about the impact of three short years on the rest of my life but, for now, the dryer stopped and I've got lots of wash to finish. And, after I start the next load, I need to go to Facebook and see if anyone's posted pictures yet.

Spa Day

Today is Deanna's 13th birthday. She was born at 11:33 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. My doctor delivered her by C-Section during her lunch hour. Our beautiful baby girl was an even 8 lbs and beautiful from the moment of birth.

I asked her this morning what she wanted for lunch today.

"Can I have a ham and cheese sandwich?" she asked. I thought for a minute. No ham. But I figured I could run by Arby's and pick up a hot ham and cheese for her and drop it by the school. I put applesauce and a drink in her lunchbox so it'd be heavy enough that she wouldn't guess at my plan.

Unfortunately, I was a little late. By the time I arrived at the school to pick her up for our "Afternoon of Fun", lunch was over and her friends were very concerned about the evil mommy that didn't pack her a lunch on her 13th birthday. To top it all off, I left her sandwich, cheese sticks, and Jamoha shake in the van. She'll have to redeem me tomorrow.

I got her around 12:30, had her change into the clothes she had packed in the van (Pierre Cardin pale yellow sweater, blue jean skort, and high-heeled brown sandals), and headed out for a Spa Day. I had booked her for a facial at 1:00, a massage at 2:15, and we were both having pedicures at 3:15. Then we were supposed to go to Olive Garden at 5:00 for dinner and the prayer meeting at 7:00, where she would be sung to.

Suffice it to say she had a wonderful day. I've never had a professional facial OR a massage, but I felt like I was having one just sitting in the room with her. The sconces were dimmed, candles were lit around the room, and soft music with ocean sounds in the background played. There was a small waterfall tinkling in the corner and they had a steam arm that directed warm mist at her face to open her pores. I almost fell asleep sitting in the semi-dark listening to the music and relaxing.

On the way to dinner, I got behind a very slow and dangerous driver. She came to a dead stop at the end of the Interstate on-ramp when both lanes of the Interstate were clear. I almost rear-ended her, then had to wait several minutes for a new break in traffic before she ventured out. Finally, I was able to pass her.

"Thank goodness!" I said aloud. "She was SO-O-O-O slow, it was making me very nervous."

"I'm not nervous at all," Deanna said. "I'm totally relaxed!"

I would be, too, if I had had the treatment she got today!

Garden Woes

I'm in a bit of a quandry over my gardens. I've never planted a winter garden before, but I decided to try it this year. I started plants inside from seeds. Once they were tall enough, I moved them into large styrofoam cups with holes for draining and put them outside to harden. Most of them are now ready to go in the ground and, since I don't expect anymore really warm weather, this is the perfect time to get them in the gardens. However . . .

It seems my summer crops aren't finished producing. The bell peppers and banana peppers are doing quite well. Dane's cowhorn peppers are producing much better than they did during the summer. Even my tomato plants, which did very little during the summer, are thriving now. But I can't get my winter plants in the garden without pulling out the summer ones first.

And I may have gone a LITTLE overboard with my winter seeds. I just wasn't sure how many would really make it, so I have something like 10 bean plants, 14 cauliflower, 20-something broccoli, peas, and I still haven't planted cabbage.

I need a new garden. That would solve all my problems. I can let the summer vegetables continue to produce until they freeze and die but put the winter plants in a new garden. Next year, since you're supposed to rotate crops, I could switch gardens and plant the summer things in the winter garden and vice versa.

But it seems a huge impossibility to put another box garden in right now. There's just too much to do, between Silent Auction, Dane's soccer, Deanna's volleyball, preparing for Christmas, putting up the summer vegetables, and trying to settle back down into a routine.

I'll have to give this some more thought. Maybe a solution will present itself yet.

Revisited

My husband sent his mother an e-mail suggesting that she read my Blog to stay up-to-date on what's happening with us. She wrote him back and told him I hadn't posted since the beginning of September. At dinner, Don asked me about the status of my Blog.

"Since I began using Facebook to stay in touch with people, I've almost completely discontinued blogging," I told him. However, that got me started thinking.

Why did I begin a Blog in the first place and why have I moved away from blogging. It took a little bit of time, but I realized that the social elements of Facebook are what draw me. It gives me an opportunity to keep in touch with people who I wouldn't otherwise - my goddaughter in Korea, my nephews in Alabama and California, friends from high school, etc. My Blog wasn't about socializing. But it WAS about a permanent record of my children's growth, a journal about our life, an extended "baby book", if you will, as well as a chance to write again.

The joy of Facebook is interaction and brief status lines. Could I not put the same brief status lines on my Blog and refresh that keeping of that permanent record? Of course I can. Even if all I do is repeat on Mercy Drops Falling what I put on FB and expound a little from time to time, at least my children will one day be able to go back and read not only their mother's writing but, also, stories about THEM.

It's time I took the time to return to blogging. Even if the posts are short, at least they capture moments from our lives.

So, here goes. Today, I'm cleaning out the middle shelf of the fridge. I've had such little time lately that I've resorted to taking a shelf at a time. If I can get the fridge finished and wash up our bathing suits from our beach trip this past weekend, I'll have two major projects finished. And, perhaps I'll even have enough time to begin putting some of the beach stuff away in the closet.

If I get off the computer, that is.

And That's the Reason for my Blog Name

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.

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.

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!"

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 . . .