As The Butter Churns

January 28th Independence Day

  (Mama - Denise and itty-bitty baby Henry - note polished nails - on Denise not Henry)

     When you’re pregnant, you can’t wait for the ultra sound, the kicking and finally the delivery. When Henry was born I was always wishing for the next thing. He’d turn over and I couldn’t wait for him to crawl. He crawled and I was anticipating his first steps. I suppose it’s normal, but ultimately I didn’t savor the moment quite like I should have. While you’re in the diaper stage it seems like forever, but once it’s over you realize it went by in a blink.

    I received a letter from Tom Walker a couple of weeks ago, informing me mating season for geese was upon us, but like the mother of a middle-schooler I was in denial. After all my geese weren’t showing any signs of such falderal. Until now.

    My babies, the goslings, who arrived as downy chirping fluff balls; the little peepers who took their first swim in my bathtub; the ones so afraid of the pond we had to get them the blue plastic baby pool; the very same emotionally dependent foul who couldn’t be ten feet away from me when I was laying the cement walkway all summer; who supervised the painting of the house and couldn’t wait to put themselves to bed at night, are growing up.

(Cleveland with a bit of lettuce)

(Vivian and baby Quackmire)

(Henry and cuddly goslings)

(Henry teaches the geese to fly)

(Geese supervise house painting project)

   I came out the front door not expecting today to be any different than any other day. The clouds hung thick in the sky devoid of sun. It was time to feed, grain and put the geese away in the barn. I looked around but didn’t see any of them. I listened. Nothing, not a sound of them thwap, thwap, thwapping their webbed feet on the cement or any honking at the sound of my “Hey, hey Little Geese, Little Geese!” I stood on the porch a moment looking around. And then I heard them way off in the distance. I squinted and could see flapping and honking water flying. They were cavorting like college freshman absent the beer. I couldn’t believe it. Somehow they'd gotten it in their bird brains to go to the pond completely on their own. I called again and started walking quickly out to the pond to see exactly what was going on as any mother would. But, at the sound of my voice the party was over. Obediently, my little ones lined up and headed home with Lloyd leading the way.

(On the waddle when Mama calls)

    It’s the life I’d dreamed for them. I’d hoped they would go to the pond during the day enjoying their afternoons swimming and preening grazing on lush green grass. Coming home in the evenings to be tucked safely into the warm barn. This, then, was a dream come true. And I was thrilled albeit taken aback at this sudden burst of independence. I watched them waddle toward me. I worried about their vulnerability as they crossed the pasture. These were my babies. I could see Alfred, who had to go to the vet so many times for x-rays and daily supplements, when he was just a few weeks old. He still limps, but he was waddling with the rest of them. Sure he was lagging behind a bit. I couldn’t help but smile proudly. I felt like he’d caught the third out in the World Series. There was Matilda, with double Angel wing and an orange bill; not a prize goose, but the first to honk and be heard. Quackmire, the smallest their surprise leader. Clara and Mabel always sweet and docile turned out to be real lookers. And then there was Ruthie always a bit of a follower, the Shirley to Matilda’s Laverne. In the lead was my special sweetie, Lloyd. My cuddle bug has become quite a good-looking gander, a fierce protector of the gaggle.

(Lloyd mugging for the camera)

    I thought about my lectures to Henry as I let him learn to stretch his wings walking alone in Fairhaven with his friends. I wanted to protect them. They were easy pick'ns for Karen, the cougar, or some hungry pack of coyotes.  The answer I suppose is I can’t. I have to let them grow up.

January 27th Good Morning

 

(Hong Kong Fooey? - Henry couldn't resist playing with his best pal, Luther when we got home)

    I’d refused to get out from underneath my warm covers as I talked to Pea on the phone with my eyes closed. I wasn’t especially tired, it’s just the room was absolutely frigid and I didn’t want to leave my cozy bed. I could hear the rhythmic breathing of sleeping dogs all around me.

    “So are you awake? Are you up?” He demanded.

“I’m awake.” I lied as a purring Emmett curled up on the inside of my leg casting his evil sleeping spell over me.

    “I’ve got to go, today’s going to be a long day.” Tom said briskly.

    “I’m up. I’m up.” I lied again going back to sleep for another ten minutes before the alarm assaulted me. By the time I was singing my first “Good Morning” song I was beyond late. I woke Henry up and was going to throw him in the shower when I remembered the pipes were frozen again.

    Wayne had broken the bad news last night when we got home. It had gotten in the teens and he’d left the water on in two places just in case. Despite his efforts, the water was off in the morning. He’d gone down to the pump house and turned the pump off as I’d asked him to in the event of another freeze. I couldn’t afford another $1500.00 bill.

    I handed Henry some bottled water to brush his teeth. Pulled my navy coveralls on over my pink striped flannel pajamas, laced up my work boots, scooped my hair in a ponytail threw on Tom’s over-sized olive jacket, grabbed my coffee and we were out the door. So much for glam.

    By the time I got home my Nancy Drew instincts had convinced me the pipes were not frozen. It didn’t make sense. It was raining and the radio reported it hadn’t gotten lower than the teens. Last winter it had gotten that low many times and never frozen. Not wanting to be called an idiot or a girl, I checked the breakers before calling Marv of Marv’s Plumbing. “Do you have water out there yet?” He asked worriedly.
“Oh we did for about two weeks.” I said as I relayed the story of the new pump and my suspicions assuring him none of the breakers were tripped.  Never condescending Marv always gives me a few suggestions and things to check. “Sorry not to be more helpful I’m trying hard not to send you a bill.” He laughed.

    “I appreciate that. I might call and bug you again if that’s OK.”

    “Bug me anytime Denise.” I followed Marv’s instructions including calling B & C Well. We discussed breakers, well pressure and the weather. “You see, we handled the 24 days without water, we got good at it, but none of us has the mindset to do it again.” I said resolutely.

    After hanging up, I puttered around conducting my investigation. Armed with Tom’s drill now mine, I went to the pump house to check things out myself. The crisp air kissed my face, my cheeks turned pink as I unscrewed the door. I turned some switches and checked the pump pressure. Held my breath, and turned the pump back on. Gurgling and the sounds of rushing water. I stood hopeful. Wayne came out the door screaming. “We have water!”

    Crisis averted, I went about tending to the dishes and unpacking as the day slipped away. I heard mooing off and on in the distance. It seemed strange. The only time Abe mooed was when he wanted a cookie or when something was wrong. I walked down to the pasture to check things out. No cougar, they had enough hay. The water level was fine.  Abe looked at me and mooed louder. Like an American in Paris turning up the volume certain the French would understand him. He was trying to tell me something and believed I was too dumb to understand. Frustrated Abe mooed even louder. I was clearly being insulted by a cow.

(new square bales - just delivered)

    Puzzled, I went up to the barn, fed the goats, sheep, geese and Miracle. Abe mooed. For a moment I considered not bringing grain down. Maybe he was just throwing a tantrum. It wasn’t that cold, but I needed the steps and honestly I can’t resist giving them a treat. I figured that was what this ruckus was about. I filled the bucket generously and was pleased to see their dishes in easy reach. Pouring the grain over the fence I leaned in guestimating each portion. As is the protocol Andy was served first. Then Abe and finally Anna. Andy began eating. Anna was devouring hers but Abe just stood there looking at me mooing with his head in the hay feeder. I went over to pet him when I finally realized. His bell was jammed in between the 2x4s of the hay feeder.

(Abe's bell)

Poor Abe was stuck again. I wondered how long he’d been there as I unbuckled his bell. Afraid to move not realizing he was unrestrained, I yanked on his horns shoving him toward the grain. Thrilled to be free, Abe wrapped his fuzzy little cow lips around his grain with a vengeance.

(Abe naked)

    All this and it wasn’t even noon.

January 26th Back To Basics

(Henry took this picture -prior to eyebrow pencil and flat iron, I am  in obvious need of all kinds of make-up- on left of course Tom - loving me anyway - bless his heart)

    With no cows to feed, the meet over and all of our obligations behind us, Tom, Henry and I just spent time together. Henry went swimming in the hotel pool lamenting bygone days of leisurely swims in our backyard. Tom and I sipped chardonnay poolside enjoying the clear evening air. We all stayed up late watching silly movies and shamelessly slept in.

    The boys indulged me in a trip to Nordstrom’s. I’d received a generous gift certificate from Mrs. Claus (also known as Annie) for Christmas. I was going to spend it on some essentials in an effort to reverse my deferred maintenance. Make-up.

Henry and Tom parked and were working on where to go to lunch while I marched straight and tall to the Estee Lauder counter. I know make-up like Tom knows tools. When I taught 5th grade the girls left knowing “It’s all in the reapply.”

    Confidently striding across the polished floor, I’d dressed for the occasion wearing a sheer orange blouse with ruffles tied in front. It was a gift from Laura. I wore it over a white long sleeve top. Feeling flirty I’d flat ironed my hair and filled in my eyebrows with pencil so I wouldn’t feel like an old fixer upper. Many young girls think mascara is the most essential product, but it is the eyebrow pencil as they frame the face.
(my gift from Laura)

    The counter was just as I anticipated. Big fluffy brushes sat in clear plastic wrappers next to stiff angled ones for shading. Countless petal pinks, raisins, tangerines, oranges, umbers and dusty rose lipsticks sang from their stands. Standing appreciating the glossy packaging looking at the various eye repairs and lash primers, indulgences way out of my reach now. I needed basics. I didn’t want to hurry my selection rather I wanted to languish in this long forgotten ritual, a part of my past when I acquired bra and panty sets. Back when I used Woolite™ and lingerie bags, a lifetime away from winches and tractor tune-ups. I walked around searching for the Knowing™ tester certain it was nearby.

    When I planed this event, I’d wanted to share it with Laura. Seeking advice on lip color and discussing the importance of the appropriate eye shadow contour, but alas it was not to be we’d spent too much time on other things.  I’d have to go it in alone relying on old instincts.

    As I was surveying the different base make-ups and new packaging Henry walked up behind me.

    “I’m scared.” He declared looking at the array of colors.

    “Don’t be frightened.” The woman behind the counter cooed.

    “It’s just like being in a candy shop.” I exclaimed blush colors dancing in my head. The woman behind the counter nodded in agreement. We spoke the same language she and I. I asked for Lucidity. She nodded acknowledging my base makeup prowess. I was relieved I hadn’t happened on some floater over from the Prescriptives™ counter.

    “Good choice. All purpose, it’s what I recommend despite the new inventory. What color?”

    “Ivory Beige.” She went about hunting for my selection only to report she was all out.

    “I think you might like Pebble,” she suggested. I was disappointed and not willing to concede, but we don’t have a Nordstrom in Bellingham so it wasn’t as though I could come back next week. “Pebble will give you just a hint of color. I really think you’ll like it.” She encouraged. Automatically, I reached forward extending my hand and rotating my wrist upward. Immediately she dabbed a bit of Lucidity™ Pebble on with the requisite sterile Q-tip™. Henry stood there dazed watching this foreign process.

    “Why did she put it on the bottom of your wrist?” He asked. I explained color and skin tones as he listened with glazed eyes. I might as well have been telling him how to wire a nuclear bomb.

    I submitted to her expertise and agreed to the Pebble. She totaled up my gift certificate and informed me of my balance.

    “I think I should get some powder, I can live with cheap mascara, I still have some old lash primer.” I reassured her.

(pressed powder compact)

    “Loose or pressed?” We discussed the virtues and deficits of both. I leaned toward loose from the start, but remained open-minded, as I was in the presence of a true consultant. In the end, we concurred loose was my money better spent.

    “A little more expensive, but it will last you forever.”

    “I know, my last one I had for years.”

    “You still have a bit left. Anything else you need?”

    “I need everything, but I’ll take a lipstick. I’ve tried a lot of cheap ones, but they’re either too dry or just not right.”

    “It’s true there’s nothing like a good lipstick.”

    “Mama, I thought you liked your cranberry lipstick you got – don’t you?” Henry asked in a whisper.

    “Shhh. It’s too dry and it smears. I look like the Joker after twenty minutes” I said over my shoulder as I tried to pay attention.

    “What colors do you wear?” She asked.

    “Well, I’m open to suggestions, but I like the Spiced Cider.”

    “You know, I see you as a Maple Sugar.” She smiled.

    “You’re good.” I said impressed. “I used to live in Maple Sugar. It’s great, you can wear it with anything.”

    “Exactly, it’s a color for dressy and for casual.” I silently was wondering if the cows would like it. Actually, when I thought about it, Maple Sugar would set off my navy coveralls nicely. She collected my three things and totaled me up. I’d gone a bit over so I paid the couple dollars difference.

    “Wait here. I’m going to get you some samples.” She returned eyes were shining. “Have a good day.” She said. I peeked in the familiar silver bag with braided cord handle.

    “It’s like Christmas!” I exclaimed.

    “Yes it is.” She confirmed with a wink as we waved good-bye.

(sample)

    Once in the truck, Henry began rifling through the bag naming all the products she’d included. There were lipsticks, lip glosses, eye shadows and mascaras, lash primers moisturizers, scrubs, removers and even a large pressed powder compact in just my color.

    “Mama, I think it was that candy shop comment. She knew you really appreciated all this stuff.”

    She was right. We went to lunch at the Cheesecake Factory on University Avenue. Afterward we walked along the sun-drenched street in Palo Alto window-shopping as my orange ruffles danced in the breeze. Crossing "Florence" the sun warming my back, I made a mental note: Florence excellent name for a turkey. Happily, I reapplied my Maple Sugar.

(more and more samples)

January 25th Return To Sender

   (Golden Gate Bridge)

The past couple days have been a whirlwind of activity. Friday began with Grandpa Horn playing jazz for band class with a very proud Henry in attendance. “Is that really your grandpa?” the kids clamored after my dad left.

 (airplane view of Mt. Baker)

Later that afternoon found us on Allegiant Air en route to San Francisco. Always a bargain shopper, I got $28.00 fares (plus taxes). Henry watched “The Mask” while I slept. We took BART to the Embarcadaro station where we waited outside fending off drunks until my long-time friend Laura picked us up. She works in San Francisco but lives a world away on a stunning horse farm.

We drove to Petaluma and Laura took us out to dinner before going her apartment. Henry entertained the dogs, Louis and Rosebud, while Laura and I caught up drinking peppermint tea discussing our roots – hair, not genealogy, mutual friends and the sheet marks I’d gotten on my shimmery hot pink pedicure. 

(Rosebud aka Rosie)

  (Louie jumps)

 (Laura's view)

(Denise, Louie, Henry & Rosebud)

Saturday morning, Laura went to ride her horse while Henry and I lounged about enjoying doing nothing. A day away from the 29 animals on the farm.  I took a scalding hot shower and put on make-up. This is beginning to be a habit. Again. If only the cows cared.

In the afternoon, after Laura enlightened me on the virtues of the portable cordless flatiron, we drove to Stanford to meet Tom, chatting endlessly. The day was one for telling old secrets and waiting for phone calls from a college reunion we were missing.            

  (Rosebud, Laura, Denise, Henry& Louie)

 

(Laura and I thought we were taking a picture alone - without bush boy - Henry)

(Stanford NCAA Meet)

Moments after we arrived, Tom, Henry and I were in the car headed for the collegiate NCAA meet. If you’ve never been to a men’s gymnastic meet you probably can’t imagine it. Different from the glittery spectacle of a girl's meet, it does not have the same music droning over and over to accompany the floor routine. Rather it’s a frenzied room filled with constant movement and excitement. On TV it always seems quiet, but in reality there is music blaring as muscle-bound athletes attempt their best release moves to impress the judges and the audience. Unlike baseball or football, you’re seated only feet from the best athletes in the county. Athletes like David Sender, who tried out for the Olympics losing only to the likes of Paul Hamm. His eligibility at Stanford over last year, we were ecstatic to see him competing as part of a Palo Alto Club JDR. Of course, the amazing David Durante, who sat in the stands and won our hearts at the Beijing Olympics as the only alternate who didn’t get the chance to compete, is now the Stanford assistant coach. David has electrified us many times at the Black Jack Winter Cup and phenomenal to watch. And then there's Coach Allen of Nebraska, a gold medal Olympian.

In a world where athletes are not exactly role models anymore, men's gymnastics shines as a beacon. Unlike the self-absorbed athletes of high-paying spectator sports, gymnasts are truly role models. Most of them are not only in amazing condition dedicated to their craft, but are also accomplished scholars. Brains and brawn. And as if this all isn’t enough, these young men not only sign autographs – for free, but they also invite kids to come out on the gym floor and chat with them. They take the time to smile and actually talk to them about when they started competing. Encouraging them to continue in the sport and telling them of how they didn’t do well at times.

 (David Sender's release on high bar)

(David Sender and David Durante in black on right)

David Sender is both an unbelievable athlete and a true role model for my son. When we chatted with him he took the time to tell us he’s currently applying to vet schools while he patiently signed kids shirts, programs and body parts. We’ve followed his career for a long time, watched him prepare for his pommel routine with determination and focus. Tom and I have pointed out how he visualizes to help Henry with his routines. We’ve cheered Sender’s victories and were saddened by his injuries. He wins with grace and concedes defeat the same way. He’s seems like a great guy – of course I’m bias - he said he’d include Ben Franklin if he could invite any three people to dinner and he wants to a vet like my sister.

 (David Sender signs for all the athletes)

  (My very funny uncensored uncle Larry (my mother's youngest brother) and his sidekick - my hilarious cousin Paul)

Henry’s meet went fairly well but the trouble is, since we moved to the farm he only gets 9 hours a week at his gym The coach just doesn't have the time for him and it just isn't enough to improve. Unfortunately, h had his first fall in a meet - on the pommel and there were tears. He tried the bonus he wasn’t really ready for, but no guts no glory.

“Henry it’s OK. Didn’t Sender fall just last night on his high bar release?” I insisted

“Yeah, I guess he did.”

“Haven’t we seen Sender fall of the pommel plenty of times?”

“Yeah. I guess we have.”

“Doesn’t he still go on and generally win the whole meet?”

“But I’m not Sender.” Henry complained.

“No, but if he let those things get him down he wouldn’t be who he is. Remember last night after his parallel routine? It didn’t go the way he wanted, so after the judges left he went up and did it over and over, just because he wanted to improve. You can do the same thing.”

“Maybe.” Henry conceded just before he went to accept his parallel bars 10^th place medal from. Thanks David we couldn’t do it without you, or Sho Nakamori or David Durante.

 (Henry & the very inspiring David Durante)

 (Durante signs and signs and signs)

(Henry watching the meet)

(Henry and my Peabrain) David Sender doing his high bar routine - not my video -

(Henry gets David's signature)

January 21st Begin At The Beginning

(an otherwise peaceful morning)

     Henry announced this morning he needed new black pants and a white button down shirt for his first band performance - tonight. The ones we had were to small and the hand-me-downs from Trevor were still too big.

    Why I didn’t think about the idea of an assigned outfit before I don’t know. I was a teacher for Heaven’s sake I’d assigned outfits. Maybe it was because I didn’t get a flyer, or maybe because it didn’t have distinguished name like “Winter Concert” but whatever it was I was caught completely off guard.

    Furious at Henry for waiting until the last second and mad at myself for not thinking about it beforehand, I lectured halfway down Mosquito Lake Road on the way to school about responsibility and the importance of lists. A sore throat and three miles later I realized most of my frustration was due to the cost of buying extra clothes he’d never wear again, a long to-do list for today and my recent lack of sleep, none of which are his fault.  So I settled down sipped my hot morning coffee and began to figure out how to solve the problem. The problem was I had a full day with cleaning the geese pen, ordering hay I'd left to the last minute as well as other sundry scheduled obligations. I started juggling my day and making phone calls.

    Eventually, I called my dad who happened to be going to the mall to buy some things for himself and he had no problem going over to the boys department to pick up the items. I told him exactly what to buy. It seemed simple much easier than I had ever imagined. I regretted the depth of my anger wondering if I wasn't most upset that Henry is just like me. I'd heard my mother's words when I yelled.

    I picked Henry up from school. Climbing in the car I could tell he was hesitant. “It's OK I had your grandfather buy some clothes for you.” He gave me a worried look.

    “Is that my punishment?” 

    “No, no.” I laughed. “You do know you’re grandfather. No. I told him exactly what to buy.”

    We all met at Lisa’s for dinner. She and I shared a couple of chicken tamales from Trader Joes™ for seven points and everyone else had pasta with Lisa's hearty meat sauce. I examined the items my father purchased. He’d done an excellent job. Henry dressed for the concert and looked great, they fit, but there wasn’t the teeniest bit of extra room. I’d told my father one-size too small. I winced.  I hadn’t noticed how much Henry had grown. No matter, the show must go on. I coiffed his hair with a little pomade and we were on our way.

    “Are you excited?” I asked as we snaked along the black ocean, the lights from the houses glimmering on the water.

    “Yes very.” He said nervously. Funny, I hadn’t expected that answer.

    “Do you know the music?”

    “I have one song completely memorized.” He smiled at me wringing his hands and pushing up his glasses with his finger. His excitement was infectious. This was a big moment. He’d never performed at school. In kindergarten he was supposed to sing, “Good Things Come in Little Packages” with all the other kindergartners dressed as a presents. He cried and was escorted off the risers. In first grade he was supposed to walk on stage during the Thanksgiving performance. He cried and never actually walked on the stage. In fourth grade he did participate in a Gold Rush musical but all he had to do was wear Tom’s orange plaid shirt and stay in the background. Caitlin Fratkin and Sam Dyke did most of the acting for the class

(Henry and some of the band boys)

(6th grade middle school band)

(Dealing with some immense social crisis -Quinn with Marnie -on left - she plays trumpet in the 7th grade band and the Bellingham Youth Jazz Band)

    Lisa, my dad and I sat together in the burgundy molded plastic stackable chairs. Quinn flitted about chit chatting with everyone she happened to see. Unfortunately, Nana was sick and Chris was home with Phoebe who had a fever of 102.7. As the band began warming up Lisa turned to me. “If you’d thought about it, you’d have known they were going to wear black pants with a white shirt. I think that’s the requisite band outfit. That’s what I wore when I was in band. I think that’s what almost every middle school band wears. Dad? I bet that’s what you wore too isn’t it?” Something about what Lisa said struck me. She'd played clarinet, she knew. This was a universal event a tradition. These were the Wonder Years fraught with fear, embarrassment and new beginnings. Middle schools everywhere for generations have had just this kind of performance. Great musicians, mediocre musicians, and completely horrible musicians all began just like this. I looked at the excited faces warming up their instruments. They would all certainly remember this night.

(Warning: I could not edit songs)

   

   

    After the sixth grade, seventh grade and eighth grades played, we were asked to stay for the “Bellingham Youth Jazz Band”, a group of kids from different schools ranging in age from sixth to twelfth grade who perform a couple dozen times a year. The leader stepped on the stage and addressed the audience.

  “Jazz is such an amazing and universal experience. I try to expose these kids to tunes professionals actually play. Last night I was at a jam session here in Bellingham and played a couple of these Duke Ellington songs with an amazing trumpet player just in from Paris…” I looked at my father, legs crossed nodding. He leaned toward me and said, “You know, I did play with that guy last night at the Brewery. He’s good.” Henry seated on my other side glanced over at me.

    “Is he talking about Grandpa?”

    “Yes, Grandpa played with him at Boundary Bay.” I whispered. Henry sat beaming. Grandpa was going to perform for the kids during Band class on Friday morning.

(Grandpa Horn and the leader of the Bellingham Youth Jazz Band)

    After stacking the audience chairs Henry came running up to me, he had heard some kids say they were going to the Colophon Café for ice cream. I was too tired to think about going, but my sister gave me the eyebrow and the do-it-for-your-kid-look. “It is tradition to go out afterward”, she said, “We always went out to the Howard Johnson's”.  Dutifully I drove the few blocks to the restaurant reconciling myself to an espresso for the drive home, only to find it dark and deserted. Disappointed I consoled my son with Taco Bell™. 

    Sipping root beer and crunching on cinnamon twists in the car Henry said, “Mama I don’t think I have a great future in percussion, I was supposed to match the kid next to me, but I didn't. He went fasther than we practiced. In my student review I told my teacher what really, really inspires me, is to try to one day play the horn like my grandfather.” He looked so sweet and innocent sitting there, I tried to take a picture of him in my mind. He was starting down an exciting road neither of us could know where it might lead. The streets of Paris perhaps? I took another sip of the tepid Taco Bell™ coffee and wondered if I could still exchange those clothes for a bigger size. We were definitely going to need them.

January 18th The Good Bye Girl

(Grandpa Horn and his girl - Deli aka Delta Blue)

    Grandpa Horn is in the Country. He arrived the other day from “gay Paris” and has been staying with Lisa. Busily been making the rounds of his grandchildren. He went to Phoebe’s soccer game and bought sheet music for the piano. He attended Henry’s horn lesson and was amazed at Kevin’s patience. He sat through it biting his tongue trying not to interject – he mildly was successful.

    This morning he drove out for his first visit to the farm. Arriving with his signature whistle he sent the dogs into an absolute frenzy. Not unfamiliar with my father’s canine influence, I was prepared and put the dogs outside before he opened the car door. He tumbled in with his Green Bay knit cap tucked over his ears. Steaks, Trader Joes™ coffee and butter in his arms he greeted the dogs smiling. There were lots of hugs and kisses for the dogs as he worked his way from Deli to his eventual meeting of Bruno.
(Grandpa Horn in his Green Bay hat with his girl Del)
(Tom takes Irish on the leash until we're in a completely motorcycle free zone)

    The sunny skies demanded we grab our coats, so we all took a walk up to the landslide area surveying the dramatic changes, collecting rocks and enjoying the sunshine. Henry, Tom and my father were stunned to see the pond first hand. Vivian and Luther hovered near my father where Deli was bound by her leash. Irish romped and waded through the water after Bruno who was flying back and forth across the stream. The afternoon went along merrily with Henry skipping stones and breaking sheets of ice that still covered the pond. All this carefree attitude came to a screeching halt as the football games began.   
(Irish takes a sip of pond water)

(I never get used to the beauty of Washington - it takes my breath away)

(Henry asks Tom to help him find a rock suitable for Ellis to sculpt or polish and love)
(Luther goes all terrain)

(Grandpa and all "his" dogs)

(Bruno leads Irish on a merry chase)

(Where ever he goes - they go)
 
I can’t stand football. I don’t hate the game actually I hate watching the game. This is directly related to my father’s screaming, yelling, stomping and swearing violently about every single play. I repeat every single play of every single game. I understand this is typical of Notre Dame graduates especially the football scholarships. Whatever, I hate it and as a result I can’t stand to watch football. They, my dad, Wayne, and Tom watched football throughout the day on several televisions. The man-cub eagerly paid close attention to each of his learned teachers. His testosterone training was ongoing as he learned the lore. He listened to the tales of plays past and was even given famous clips of long ago to review. He spoke of the Steelers stealing the game from the Seahawks and lamented their winning. He could not be swayed by my friend Alicia’s undying loyalty to them or their sparkly logo. Henry snuggled up between his father and grandfather learning the finer points of the game while Wayne went up and down the stairs interjecting his thoughts per play.

(Note crazed look in Grandpa Horn's eyes)

(let the games begin)
  (Tom diligently educating Henry)

(Irish and Bruno are bored with the games)

At half-times and between games there was much horn blowing. My father would practice and Henry would try and match his pitch. I heard a lot of “No. Blow from your stomach. From your stomach! Ok. Better. Do it again.” I stoically kept quiet busying myself with other things.
(Henry watches and listens)

(Practice makes perfect)


(Henry with accidental excitement scratches on his face from an over zealous Irish puppy greeting him at the door - naughty Irish- Bad Dog!)
(Irish listening for his cue?)

(a baritone, Irish did the vocals)

Tom grilled steaks, fixed potatoes and steamed broccoli while I meticulously counted points We all drank wine – except Henry. After all this isn’t France. When Henry complained some of the pieces were a bit overdone I was about to kick him under the table, but Tom quickly admitted he got sidetracked by a spectacular play and forgot about them as Wayne doused the inferno with a Becks™.

The next morning was more of the same, plenty of sunshine and horn practice. My father took Deli on a walk promising her he would return. Sick of good-byes, I don't think she believes him.

(Deli)

January 17th Give Him A Hand

(The Mud Puddle Coffee House and their Obama cookies)

(President elect Obama on a cookie)

    Henry and I picked Tom up at SeaTac and headed straight for the ferry to Bainbridge Island. We had to wait an hour before we got on and so were starved by the time we arrived. We’d hoped to make an evening of it and go to a movie, but alas the delay in the ferry killed that opportunity. Instead we went to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I diligently counted my points while apologetically Tom sipped on a margarita. I thought I’d feel deprived, instead I felt empowered.

(Henry inhaling his breakfast)

    In the morning, we drank coffee while Henry stretched and struggled to put in his contacts. A Girl Scout for many years, I was ready with my oatmeal packet breakfast - 2 points and I only needed water. I was satisfied and ready for the day.

(Tom watching intensely)

(not everyone was interested in the meet)

(not too intent on the meet)

(Henry warming up - in the air)

    The meet was small, but sweet. Henry came in second out of two, which is deceptive. Henry did well, but not fantastic. His scores were better than the Washington Open with the same judges. He’s still having trouble on the pommel horse receiving almost the exact same score as he did at the Washington Open despite all the extra practice. I was surprised to see him take responsibility and go up to the judge after the meet and ask him to review his performance so he could improve his score.
(Entrance to Ellis and Beverly's home - Beverly's painting the picture doesn't let you see the texture)

    Afterward, we had plans to visit an art teacher of Tom’s from a long time ago in a land far, far away at Ventura Junior College before the land of Art Center College of Design. Actually, Ellis and his wife Beverly are friends of Tom’s now for many, many years. They used to have a house in Ojai, but now live on Bainbridge and, sadly for us, are relocating to Wyoming to be near their grandchildren.

(Ellis)

    Tom had described them as people who live surrounded by art. Ellis is a sculptor, and Beverly a painter. Tom was not exaggerating. From the moment we walked in and met Beverly and Ellis, it was apparent they were involved in every detail of their home.

    We were all entranced, but Henry was mesmerized. He loved every aspect of the house including the elevated basin that is the bathroom sink. While in the art studio Henry gravitated to a hand mannequin and a bowl of driftwood Ellis had gathered, sanded and varnished many times until they felt like glass. He calls them “feelies”.

(Tom stood enviously in the studio)

(work in progress and - stuff packed and ready to move to Wyoming)

(Tom hopefully being inspired to paint again)

(in the studio)

(art everywhere in the studio and throughout the house)

(Henry discovers the Hand)

    We thought we’d have a short visit and were surprised to look up and find we’d been chatting non-stop about everything from close encounters with oxen to the trouble with gouache to near death, after death and real estate.

(more of Beverly's work)
(Beverly's painting sell well, as you can imagine)

(having been in Bainbridge almost 5 years, Beverly has obviously been inspired by her view)

(the glass room)
(Henry enjoying the glass room with his friend the hand)

    Beverly decided to order pizza so Henry wouldn't chew his arm off and  the evening could continue, as Tom and Ellis discussed how many coats were necessary in the proper preparation of a linen canvas. Henry walked around admiring Ellis’s sculpture and using the hand mannequin instead of his own. When we couldn't put it off any longer we reluctantly said our good-byes. Just as we were about to pile in the car Ellis and Beverly graciously gave Henry “the hand”. I don’t know if they realized, how much Henry loved it. I suppose they did or they wouldn't have given it to him. But I know they didn't realize what an impression they made and how much more he loved it because they gave it to him.

(Beverly, Henry and "the hand")

(Beverly helps Henry secure the hand)

("The hand" , Beverly and Henry)

    The ferry ride home was all about Henry walking around and trying to creep people out with the wooden hand. He went up to kids at video games and said he wished he could play. He snickered as mothers politely looked away. Henry coyly walked by people showcasing his “problem”. I don’t know what people thought with him wearing his gym suit, but one thing for certain is many people stared. This was 30 minutes of pure eleven-year-old hijinks.
(Henry, "the hand" and Tom)

    “The part that is so freaky” Tom said while we watched Henry pull one of his stings, “is that it’s the same size as his other hand. You can totally buy it as his if you’re not really thinking about it.”

    As we left the ferry and headed up the I-5 Henry announced as he put on an Alfred Hitchcock movie “I’m going to name my hand Feelie after Ellis' driftwood."

    “I think he would really like that.” Tom said as he nodded approvingly heading toward home.

January 15th One Is A Lonely Number

(Win's in Fairhaven)

    As I drove to pick up Henry after school my heart sang. This was a red-letter day; he’d asked me to walk into Fairhaven with some friends. I called him to make sure he knew I was on my way; after all I didn’t want us to be late for gymnastics when he had a meet coming up this weekend.

    “Henry, I’m on my way. Where are you?” I asked.

    “I’m at Win’s having a hamburger and milkshake.” He said loudly over the din of the background noise.

    “OK. Wrap it up, I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” I said authoritatively waiting for an argument about staying longer. None came so I hung up.

    Driving along on Mt. Baker Highway I laughed to myself. Henry was sitting in a drive-in eating a hamburger and having a milkshake. Certainly, it was chocolate, such an innocent thing. He might have been in “Happy Days living Ritchie Cunningham’s life. No. Maybe he was Ralph-Malph or was he Potsie I mused. I thought for a moment that was his Fonzie? Zach? No not Zach. Duncan? No. Duncan was Potsie I thought. I called Lisa.

“Guess where Henry is?”

“Where?” Lisa asked expectantly.

“He went to Win’s, just like Quinn.” I said relieved.

“That’s great you must be so happy.” Lisa said.

“I am. Well, that’s all I just wanted you to know he was doing something with friends finally.”

“Tell him I said ‘good job’!” Lisa said enthusiastically.

“Well, and if it goes our way, he’s going to ask one kid to spend the night this weekend. I’m crossing my fingers. Talk to you later.” I said and hung-up.

Anyway, when I pulled up there was Henry ready to go amongst a group of boys. He jumped in and off we went.

(a hoard of middle schoolers are always hanging out around the drive-in)

(Henry gets in)

    We drove silently most of the way. I told him a few tidbits and stories about some old friends I’d reconnected with and about an amazing Christmas Card that had found it's way to us and while he was interested he seemed distracted. Finally asked, “So who’d you go to Win’s with?” I said with a smile. “Joe?”

    “No. Joe couldn’t go today.” He said quietly. “Zach’s phone was off and I couldn’t get anyone else.”

    “What? So you’ve been at Win’s for an hour and a half by yourself?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Why didn’t you call me to come get you earlier?” I wondered?

    “You said it was great I was going because you had a lot of things to get done, so I sat and ate. It’s not a big deal. I talked to a lady at the counter for while.”

    I didn’t want to make a bigger deal of the whole episode so I didn’t say anymore as my heart shattered. Charlie Brown and all those mean, stupid kids crept through my thoughts. Charlie Brown never fit in and was always alone. I always hated that show. We arrived at gymnastics and Henry hopped out.

    “I’ll be in a moment, I’ve got to make a call.”

    “OK.”

    I didn’t have a call to make; I couldn’t make a call. I just sat there with tears in my eyes picturing him sitting alone in a booth having his burger. My smart, sensitive funny boy alone. I remembered walking around A.E. Wright Middle School not feeling included. It was a lonely uncomfortable feeling I hate to see anyone endure. But as much as I wish I could, I can't save him from the pain. Every one goes through it  in some way. Perhaps it makes us kinder better people. A rite of passage.  Heck even Joanie and Cha-Chi didn't hit it off right away. Did they?

January 12th The Best of Times The Worst of Times

(finger lickin' good)

    Deciding it was time to face facts, Lisa and I got ourselves up and out to a Weight Watcher™ meeting. I knew I’d let myself snitch cookie dough here and there, sip of Chai tea latte now and then and I’ve been known to take a taste of butter more than once in awhile - I’ve got the double whammy -German and Wisconsin roots. Truly, I had no idea I’d gained twenty-seven pounds in the last fifteen months. I know this exactly because on October 4th 2008 I proudly asked the driver’s license woman to re-issue my license with my correct weight on it. Not so proudly, but resigned I walked in and joined the meeting. It was packed.

    “I had to get you here.” Lisa stated matter of factly, “ My weight is closely tied to yours. When you start getting skinny, I kick into gear. When you’re heavier, I look at you and think. Well I’m still a little thinner.”

    “You’re three inches taller.” I noted.

    “It gives me an edge.” We turned to pay attention to tips on how to stretch our points.
As I sat there listening, I realized I’ve changed. I didn’t cry. I didn’t berate myself and I didn’t feel like the world had come to an end. I wondered if this was good or bad? A woman interjected something about keeping “her” snacks separate from the rest of the “skinny” people in the house.

    My thoughts wound and turned to when I was my thinnest. How was my life different? Before I had children, I really didn’t worry about my weight much. No more than most anyway. I am now thirty pounds heavier than my “thinnest weight”. I thought about my life then.

    I lived in Brentwood, California. I was single. I rented a fabulous apartment with a fireplace and walked to work. I was dating and thinking only of me. I made a lot of money for my age and bought lots of clothes, shoes. I had my legs waxed. I bought perfume and make-up and lots and lots of lingerie. I was lonely, unhappy and wished the weekends away. I was obsessed with cleaning and literally had nightmares about my roommate Shannon's black heel marks on the kitchen floor. I took great care of myself because I had nothing else to do. I paid all my bills before they were due.

    Now, my bills are a juggling act, I’m happy, busy and love my home. But I’ve noticed I’m disappearing. I I’ve felt guilty buying or doing anything for me. My decline can be seen in my face soap. Used to be I’d only buy Estee Lauder, then it was Oil of Olay and now I’m buying the knock-off Walgreen’s brand. I draw the line at hand soap.

    I feel like one of those women I read about in my Women’s Studies classes in college. The one’s who slowly disappear into yellow wallpaper. Invisible women who have no interests other than their children and husbands. While I don’t feel that way I do feel as though my identity is eroding with the landscape.

(mmmm)

    Unemployment is not a vacation. I often hear, “You have so much time on your hands, it must be great.” Not really. I feel guilty all the time. It’s a constant trade off, do I work on the house, the business plan, the farm, take care of the animals or try and apply for a job. Every solution feels like the wrong solution. Whichever it is I come last. I clean the house, but don’t get to my room. I feed the animals, but don’t do my hair. I used to shower to exfoliate and relax, now I do it when I can fit it in because I stink of sheep manure. If, and I say if I apply make-up Henry asks me where I’m going. To make matters worse, I can’t remember the last time I had a pedicure and I don’t mean given by someone else. I’ve let go of me. And it’s time for a change. My friend Jennifer’s words come back to me through the cold of a Mid-Western winter. Wisely, she said. “Denise you can’t serve stew if you don’t put something in the pot.” She’s right more than I let on. I have to start taking care of me.

    The meeting was over but we waited for the after meeting you attend when you officially return to the fold. “This time. I’m making a goal I can live with.” I said as I scooted into a chair next to Lisa.

    “This time we’re going to achieve Life Membership.” She insisted. “Then if we gain weight at least it won’t cost us anything.” Lisa’s always been the practical one. I took out my handy dandy point tracker and wrote down two eggs and an English muffin. Coffee is free I can drink all I want.

(Tom's most recent selection)

January 9th The More Things Change

   

(Just a bit of snow still in the pasture)

    Once the rain completely stopped and most of the snow had melted my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t resist going out to see the land. Wayne and Alexis already  surveyed the damage, but decided to go with me anyway. I noticed the difference starting at the pasture, there were deep ruts and erosion where the stream had rerouted ripping and tearing holes in the earth. No big deal really as Washington is after all the land of Jack and the Bean Stalk. It’s so fertile here, if you put a tire in the ground, a car just might grow.
(Wayne stands with one foot on what was the island and the other on the new grey ground)(no longer an island the pond ends at the front of the picture by the bridge)

(bridge with new rock)

(I wasn't the only resident taking a look around - here are Wally's foot prints)

(Wally's front paws)

     It looked like a volcano had erupted and sent lava down to settle in the pond. We now had a grey and black rocky beach instead of an island. Walking up the stream where once was thick growth was a wide rocky path. I couldn't help but be awestruck at the power of Mother Nature re-inventing herself.
(new rocky waterfalls)

The stream was lovely lined with rocks. Stair step waterfalls gurgled as the stream wound around in its new path. I imagined it would be great place for sipping chardonnay in the summer time. The kids would love it back in here under the canopy of the forest. It was open and beautiful as the sun shone through dappling the rocks with light as it danced off the water. The farther we walked the more amazed I was. Trees strewn about with enormous root balls jutting in the air, striking rocks, logs stripped of their bark and made smooth from the power of the rushing water. I stepped over a fence that used to be five feet tall. Now merely six inches stuck out of the ground. We kept going until we found the source. It was a landslide that created a cavern more than fifty feet wide and at least two stories tall.
(Irish above t he cave in)

    Climbing a huge tree that looked like a drawbridge. I thought this would be a great place for a fort. My thoughts turned to Henry, he’s studying geography in class and has been asking me how erosion works. Thinking mostly of our doomed trip to the Grand Canyon, he had it in his head that it was a process taking thousands of years, not just a couple of days.  I stood there thinking what he was going to say when he saw this and then I thought if this history thing doesn’t workout maybe  we could be a great science field trip.

(strewn trees)

January 7th Too Much Of A Good Thing

(On the 9 at Acme)

    On the way home from gymnastics last night Henry and I crossed five different spots where the water was cascading over the highway. He barely noticed because he was busy coloring some project for school by the light of his cell phone. I however had a strained neck by the time we got to Acme. Just before turning onto Mosquito Lake Road, I had Henry call Wayne and let him know we where we were. Just in case. We've already spent one night on the road and so I'm  perhaps a little overly cautious at this point.

    Despite my fears, we made it home safe and sound. The rain pounded all night long. On edge, I woke-up  early and went downstairs to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, feed the dogs and check my email for school closures. Just as I suspected Bellingham was shut down, I called Lisa since I doubted she’d check. I wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t driven in it last night. 

(Two by Two they're boarding the Ark)

    All we can do is sit inside the house and watch the water rise. The pasture is flooded, the creek along the road has expanded 100 feet. The cows are dry for now, but the pond has been devastated. Water is rushing down from the mountain bringing sediment with it and depositing it in our pond. So in effect our pond is being filled in.

(our pond -- not what it was a day a go - a good thing we don't need water  as it is so full of sediment we'd never be able to use it)

(You can see Abbey having to swim this walking path)

(compare with picture below - same place)

(This was a small two foot stream a day or two ago - you can compare to the 30th of December picture - )

(from the creek by road to the fence was a hundred feet)

(Wayne and Abbey wade through the current in the pasture)

    I watched the news and saw some guy jet skiing down Iowa Street. We drove to the one lane bridge and were shocked to see there had been a small landslide exactly where Henry and I had parked the night we were trapped in the snow.

Mental note: Next time I’m trapped on an isolated road be sure to park nowhere near a steep hill – if possible.

(The stop sign - is where the front of my car was parked - the small slide on Mosquito Lake Road)

The thing I notice most is the noise. From the moment you step outside you can hear the roar of sudden streams everywhere rushing down the mountains to the rivers. The trees, logs and debris piling up.

The rain continues.

(about two months ago - same place as video - note no logs just stones on right)

(Our quiet little stream becomes a rushing river)

January 5th All's Well That Ends Well

(Life in an Ansel Adams picture -on the way to school)

     Day 24 –of our drought. The day Pea and Laura head home, school starts and the well-guy is coming to see what he can do about our water situation. I stumbled downstairs to find mouse guts laced with blood in a heap on the floor in the kitchen. An omen? Ignoring it I got my coffee and went back upstairs to inform Tom he should handle it.

    I pried a teary-eyed and reluctant Henry out of bed. He like every other child out there did not want to go back to school. Tom and I had heard last night how horrible he had it without any friends. “Kids roll their eyes when they get paired up with me.” He complained.

    “Maybe you try too hard honey. Your daddy and I knew a great guy who tried too hard.”

    “You mean Kenny?” He finished before I could.

    “Yes. Kenny. You should just relax a little. Stand back. Let the other kids be funny. Ask questions. People like to talk about themselves. It’ll be good practice for dating.”

    “Mom!” Henry blinked back tears. “Mom how old were you when you first had sex?” He said with more strength in his voice as he redirected the conversation.

    “Henry! That is none of your business.” I protested. Tom simply and silently rolled over checking out of this conversation entirely. Typical.

 Henry cried off and on during the night. Tossing and turning in his bed coming in our room every half-hour or so until he just fell in bed with us. It’s hard knowing you’re dad’s leaving again and may not be back until March. It makes my heart hurt to watch him in so much pain.

    Nonetheless, the bell was going to ring and he was going to be in his seat or my teaching credential wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on. When I got back Tom informed me he’d relocated a mouse he’d found alive in the dog food outside. I was relived as I’d seen the little guy a couple of times and wondered if he was the heap on the floor this morning. The well-guy was arrived minutes later ready to check out our problem.

(Checking out the pump house - warm and balmy)

    Naturally, he informed me it was “weird”. We had some power to the pump, but only 115 amps or volts and we should have 230 amps or volts I’m not sure which. An electrician I’m not. He couldn’t figure out why we’d have that much and where it was finding a ground. After a bit of water sleuthing he determined the problem to be in our well itself.

    This presented a few new problems. One, our well is 80 feet deep and he couldn’t get it out by himself, it seems this is inordinately deep most are 40 feet. Two, he hadn’t anticipated “This much snow! I didn’t expect this. I’ve got to call my partner. You see I’ve got to be able to drive down into the pasture and I can’t even get up your driveway without chains. I didn’t bring any because there isn’t any snow in town.”

    “Do you want a cup of coffee while you wait?” I inquired trying to be civilized.

    “No. No. I’ve got paperwork to do in my truck. Thanks” and off he went.

    The next thing I knew two other guys were there and he had his chains on. They got down to the pasture, but the snow was so deep we couldn’t open the gates.

(The guys digging the gates open)

(Stuck!)

(Checking out the action)

After digging those open he drove in only to get stuck with a high middle. It seems the ground had thawed underneath. Abe, Andy and Anna were very curious about this new development. The guys eventually dug the truck out and all I could think of was how much this was costing me.

  (Tom and Laura leave)

While they were doing their thing, Tom and Laura were packing up and driving off. I guess it was good I had this to tend to or I’d have been in tears just like Henry. Before he left though, Tom cashed in some frequent flyer miles and booked a flight up in two weeks so we could all go to Henry’s meet on Bainbridge Island.

 
    Once they realized the truck wasn’t going to get to the well, I thought they’d leave and come back another day. Nope, these were hardy fellas.

    “We’re here now and we’re going to get you water. My other half would be staying at a luxury hotel by now. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still laughing.”

    “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to leave.” I insisted. Perseverance pays off, they worked until they were successful. It seems the pipes froze in several places. First to the shop, then to the house, but the real problem was they froze from the well to the pump house. The pump doesn’t have a shut off valve and it continued pumping until it burned out. Seven hundred dollars and a new pump later we had water. I felt stupid. I guess if I’d turned off the pump the moment the pipes froze this wouldn’t have happened.

(Having to keep shooing the curious cows away the guys worked until it was done)

    “Don’t feel too bad, this has happened to a lot of people and if they only froze from the pump house to your house it would have been fine. You see, we only bury our pipes two-feet down here.”

    “Oh, I see. I lived in Minnesota and they bury them six feet there.” I said not feeling any better.

    “We don’t expect Minnesota-cold here.” He said practically.

    When I first heard the gurgle of water run through the pipes under the house my heart leapt. I held the flashlight while Mike, the well-guy, turned the valve and voila! We could shower!

    “How much do I owe you?” I said hesitantly.

    “I’ll bill you.” He said with a wave. I wanted to hop in a hot shower, but it was time to go get Henry.

    He was standing by the gym, our appointed meeting place, waving and beaming when I pulled up. “Sorry I’m late. How was school? Did you pick one kid to ask over?”

    “School was great! I was talking to another kid whose mother is also late a lot.”

    “I am not late a lot.” I said defensively.

    “I didn’t mean – any way – you know the kid I told you about who usually rolls his eyes when he gets paired up with me, well he actually asked me to be his partner today! And you know what else I wasn’t the only kid who didn’t want to go to school today. I felt better about that.” Henry blurted.

 “You know what else? We have water!”

    “We have water? We have water! Yipeee! We don’t have to see each other’s pee anymore? This is great day. Except for Daddy and Laura leaving.”

    “I have news on that too. Daddy’s coming back in two weeks for Bainbridge and Laura’s coming to Las Vegas for your meet.”

    “Mom can I celebrate with a hot bath when we get home? I want to use my tangerine scrub I got for Christmas.”

January 4th CSI: Bellingham

  (Laura and Luther)  Tom and I were determined to clean the barn as the weather was warming up and the barn was getting yucky. Henry and Laura were determined to go sledding. Sledding it was. Laura and Henry went up and down the hill. Papa Bear  joined in and a snowball fight ensued. Luther needed a ride. I snapped family pictures dashing out of the way just in the nick of time.

(Big sister and little brother)

(Here he comes)

(There he goes)

(Laura launches a snowball at baby brother) 

(Henry, Tom and Laura battle)

(Pea, Laura and Henry sled)

(Vivian watches as Luther takes his seat)

(Laura sees something the other two don't?)

(Vivian rushes to make sure everyone is OK)

    We brought some old carrots to the barn animals who proceeded to spit them out. We tried giving them to the cattle who had the same reaction. We drove to the pond to collect water and decided to scatter them for the deer who might not be living so high on the hog right now.

 Tom showed Laura around the pond while Luther scared us all by walking across thin ice and Henry impressed everyone by going completely Norman Rockwell by rolling a snowman.

(Henry starts)

(Henry determined)

(Henry on a roll)

  (Henry keeps working)

(Laura joins the effort)

    “Wow Henry! I’ve never seen anyone actually do roll snowballs into a snowman like that. He looks great.” Tom said while Henry beamed.

    “I think he could use your help and your hat Pea.” I suggested quietly.  I collected stones from the bottom of the creek for eyes while the rest of his face and arms were collected.

    “Hey, we even have a carrot.” I remembered. Laura went to locate the perfect carrot nose and soon “Bobby-Joe” was finished.

(Pea helps his son)

  (Tom, Henry and Laura work)

(Henry hugs Bobby-Joe)

(The gang)

(Henry and Bobby-Joe)

    “Bobby-Joe?” I questioned. “Bobby-Jo was one of the girls from “Petticoat Junction”.

    “There’s Uncle Joe movin’ kinda slow at the junction, Petticoat Junction.” Tom sang out.

    When we got home Henry asked if he could make a few more snowmen while we brought the water in, fed the animals and grained the cows. None of us minded so he worked while we worked.

    While we were feeding everyone in the barn I began to worry about the geese. They were so dirty. Filthy really , and I began to think seriously about their constant preening. Didn't that help spread their oils to keep them warm? Maybe their lack of bathing was hurting more than their looks.  I decided to haul out some hot water from the coffee urn in the kitchen and create a Goose jacuzzi in their baby pool. Ruthie and the rest of the girls went right in flapping and honking guarded diligently by a circle of ganders.

(Girls get in)

Next, went gimpy Alfred, and Cleveland. Lloyd bathed by alone.  Quackmire never felt relaxed enough to get in. Wishing we could have a bath and a nice meal I brought out some Romaine lettuce heads we hadn't eaten and scattered it around their pen for a treat.

(Clean feathers and a nice salad)

    Laura has always wanted a duck or two, but I was hoping Lloyd would win her heart. He did his best, but I think she still wants a duck. I wouldn't mind a duck or two.

    Meanwhile Henry did an amazing job leaving Norman Rockwell behind and going completely Calvin and Hobbs. Frankly, I wonder if the kid needs therapy.

   

(Rifleman shoots unsuspecting golfer?)

(Rifleman - the shooter)

(Golfer with mustache bleeding ketchup profusely)

(Close-up of the snowman victim with blood spatter)

January 3rd Runs In The Family

(Laura's stocking)

       Laura, Tom’s only daughter and Henry’s sister is coming for her first visit to the farm. I’m a nervous wreck. She has one dainty cat and has lived with her mother who’s a gourmet cook in an immaculate house most of her life. I’m unemployed farm girl who burns chocolate chip cookies and whose culinary repertoire consists mostly of peasant food: casseroles, six different types of chicken, chili and spicy meatloaf; we have six dogs, three cats, no water and a broken sink. What’s to worry about?

    Unfortunately, or fortunately Henry and I weren’t able to go to the airport to pick her up because Henry had gymnastics. This gave Tom and Laura time to have dinner together, go home feed the animals, build a fire and get settled. It also gave Henry and I time to be nervous. Henry hadn’t seen her in years and although he absolutely adored Craig, having a sister was a different story. Henry couldn’t believe it when I pulled into the Burger King parking lot after gymnastics. "Chicken Fries and a Whopper Jr.™ Hen - Six or Nine pieces?"

    “Mom! Chicken Fries? You never let me have fast-food” Henry said with wonder.

    “Never say never. Nine pieces please.” I could waste time with the best with them. We drove home with "MacGyver" blasting.

    When we arrived, Tom and Laura were sitting in the family room watching some goofy movie. The house was freezing. I couldn’t believe Tom hadn’t turned up the heat. One look at her and I knew she was just this side of a Popsicle. I cranked up the heat to 68 degrees and got her the fuzzy cheetah blanket. Henry snuggled in with her immediately his fears disappearing in a blink. I felt better. I started making Henry chocolate chip/ butterscotch cookies for a snack at the meet tomorrow. Having scorched many a cookie and not wanting to embarrass myself in front of Laura, I set a timer as I popped them into the oven.

 (Laura and Tom)

  (Laura's Audrey)

     Laura was lovely, no longer the little girl I’d made a pink Christmas stocking for so many years before, but a talented woman in her own right. Proving the apple doesn't fall from the tree, she's an artist like her father. She showed me a spectacular painting she’d done of Audrey Hepburn for class. I was amazed. I couldn’t dream of doing such beautiful work. After a cup of Earl Grey and a bit of chatting, we all turned in early, as Henry had a competition in Seattle in the afternoon.

    We all got up and did our appointed chores, ate breakfast, collected all the various jackets, cameras, cell phones and bags. We piled in Tom’s truck and were about to head to Seattle when Tom asked me if we had any batteries for Laura’s camera. I ran in the house doubting I could find any. Despite all odds, I was in fact successful. 2009 was going to be my year. I got in the truck, put on my red glasses and turned to give Laura the batteries. To my surprise, she was peering back at me through her purple iridescent glasses. Yes, we were gong to get along just fine.

    Turns out we were late. Late, late, late – Pea and I were about at each other’s throats. He drives permanently stuck in turtle mode and I was about to burst worried Henry was going to miss the warm-up before the meet. Henry about came unglued thinking they might not let him compete. This being his first competition at level 6, a much more advanced level than he's competed before. I called Mike knowing he’d be at the meet early, and of course he was. He tried to help, but Tom’s navigational system took us to the wrong place and Mike didn’t know enough to help us find our way. Somehow, Tom got us there. By sheer luck, the session before us had run an hour late and Henry hadn’t missed a thing. The Donaldson’s strolled in before the anthem and all flowed smoothly from there. 

(Henry and Jesse during march in)

    Before Henry’s first event, he came running over with a couple of baggies of cookies I’d stored in his gym bag. I handed them out to Mike, Phoebe and Quinn. Lisa came over a little while later and asked for a cookie. Proudly, I handed her one. She took it, examined it and said, “They’re not burnt.”

    “I set a timer.”

(Henry with his coach on rings)

  (Henry again)

(Henry on parallel bars)

(Henry at the Washington Open - running toward the vault)

    Henry did much better than either Tom or I was expecting. Henry's a competitor like his sister. Laura played club soccer and then college ball. Tom has proudly saved countless newspaper clippings documenting her heroics. Henry, too, was suddenly out there fighting. In the end, he missed 10th place by just two tenths. Naturally, he was disappointed, but we were so pleased at his effort and gratified he was putting forth his best for a change. We've been used to him mailing it in lately.

    “Mom, I was so close!” He bemoaned his loss.

    “Henry, do you remember back a couple months ago when I said that if you didn’t put more effort in you’d be sorry later when you didn’t win? That day is today. The amazing thing is you did so well for someone who hasn’t tried too hard and I think with a lot of effort in the next couple of weeks you can probably get up on the podium.”

    Mike, Annie, Team Donaldson and all of us went to Sonrisa, the same delicious Mexican place we’d gone to last year. We all squeezed into one big booth ordered margaritas, calamari and lots of spicy food. Somehow Chris brought up that the game of soccer began by kicking around severed heads. Quinn didn’t believe him for an instant, so she turned to wise owl Mike.

    “Mike, did soccer start by kicking severed heads?” Quinn asked skeptically.

    He paused a moment to swallow and said, “Why yes, it did.”

    “Dad! You passed the Mike test!” Quinn said incredulously.

    “What is this? You doubted me? Of course, I passed the Mike test c’mon” He laughed.

    At the end of the evening, we debated whether we should take Laura to the Donaldson’s so she could wash her hair, but it was determined we’d heat up some water and she could wash it over the bathtub. She was now one of us.

    A day would not be complete lately without a game of Apples to Apples™ and so after Laura's official farm baptism, Wayne came down and the hands were dealt. Tom and Laura beat the rest of us to a pulp (our new favorite game of the moment)

(Tom makes a snow angel)

January 2nd Water Torture

  (My sweet gentle Vivian looks like she starred in Damien Omen II)

      Day 21 finds the snow continuing to fall and us getting good at this “no water” thing. A large coffee urn now stands plugged in on the counter giving us hot water on demand. Two suitcase style water jugs sit by the sink; one with drinking water and the other a pond water version for washing hands or boiling washing dishes. Next to all the toilets are similar jugs ready to fill the tank in case of a flush.
(hot water - a modern miracle)

    I know we should have been working on some project, but we spent the day having fun. Messing around. We went sledding and walked to the pond. Spent time with the animals, played games and, in general, wasted the day away being a family.

(Vivian and Lu catch a ride to the pond)

(Our running water)

(Deli, Irish and Luther have a little get together)



(Deli following her nose)

    In a real attempt at spontaneity, we decided to use a Fandango gift card Tom got for Christmas and head all the way into town to meet Annie as well as the rest of Team Donaldson for a movie. Everyone voted for “Marley and Me”, or as we all like to call it “The Story of Irish – a documentary.” The story was fun although I don’t think you’d leave the movie a dog lover if you weren’t already so inclined. Naturally, we all wept openly. However, I realize in reality I would have beaten Marley. Irish isn’t nearly as disobedient or destructive or he wouldn’t still be among the living.

January 1st Can't Say No.

( The morning after? No just a common scene - It's too bad none of the animals get along)

    Most of my life New Year’s Day meant watching the Rose Parade on channel 9 over coffee. I loved going to Pasadena and touring the floats after the parade, you really couldn’t appreciate it on TV, but in person you it was fascinating how seeds were used for a dog’s eye or a dragon’s toenail. Funny, this morning, it didn’t even register with me until the phone rang.

“Hi. Are you watching the parade?” My sister said sounding melancholy.

“No. I forgot about it actually. I should tivo it. Henry’s still asleep.”

“Don’t bother. The coverage here doesn’t tell you anything about how the flowers were used or how the float was made.” She sounded down.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh. I thought we’d do something like go skiing or have people over, but in the end we’re just hanging around and I’m eating food I wouldn’t be eating if we were doing something.” She bemoaned. “What are you guys doing?”

    “Finishing up the guest room. You know I painted most of it a long time ago before Barb and Kaylee came, but it just wasn’t right. I stopped because although I liked the stripes they were too too – I don’t’ know bright I guess. So I bought this lime wash we’re going to try after we finish the stripes. Naturally, Tom will take over because I’m incompetent.”

    “Goes without saying when it comes to painting doesn’t it?” She asked.

    “Yes. Anyway, we’ll be getting this finished, because Laura will be here in a couple of days and I want it to be nice for her visit.”

    “OK. I guess you won’t be coming out here then?” She asked with just a slight glimmer of hope.

    “No. I don’t think so. This project is going to take all day. Especially, when Tom’s doing it.

(Up close and personal - Vivian and Bruno snuggle)

    After I hung up, I made Chai French Toast and bacon again.

    “Mom, do we have to have this again?” Henry complained.

    “I love it.” Wayne chimed in.

    “I even like it. I asked her to make it.” Tom responded.

    “You Dad? You don’t like anything sweet.”

    “That’s true most of the time, but I like this.”

    “Don’t eat them if you don’t want them again. My feelings aren’t going to be hurt. Have a bowl of Cheerios.”

    "Your mom went to the trouble of making them for you.” Tom continued.

    “It’s OK. It really doesn’t bother me. It means I’ll get a serving, we didn’t have much of the good bread.”

    The rest of the day, Henry sat around watching mindless TV, reading or begging me to download new songs from itunes on his ipod.

    "Mom. All you have on the itunes account is the music to "Psycho" and songs from Lewis and Clark. If I have that on my ipod, I'm going to be a big geek." Henry argued. Tom readily agreed he had a point. I ignored him. And spent the day with Pea happily taping and painting Maryruth’s room.

(Pea helping finish up my work)
 

 (The blue tape makes it look even more carnival)

    Around 1:00PM I went downstairs to make another pot of coffee and walked by my computer when I noticed a strange email. I clicked on it and found it was simply marked “Bribery”. There was a picture of Lisa and Chris’ homemade chiles. I printed it and took it up to Tom. After a very short discussion of our progress we agreed we couldn’t resist the Donaldson’s insidious plot and would head over for their house for dinner, laundry, a hot shower and a game of “Ticket to Ride™”, they’d gotten for Christmas.

  (The Donaldson's chile bribery)

(Can't resist)

(Putting on the lime wash)

    On the way home, we were clean, full and happy. Tom and I had dominated “Ticket to Ride” and still had enough energy to hang pictures.

“Mom I hate the stuff you put over the stripes in Maryruth’s room. It just looks like a cloud in there now.” Henry stated without hesitation.

“I’m not convinced I love it either. I like it better than it was, but I think it needs something.”

“Maybe some blue” Henry suggested.

“A thin blue line?” Tom added.

“I’m thinking something not so patterned to break it up maybe dots scattered around?” I thought out loud.

“Maybe on either side of the raspberry stripe.” Henry added.

“Of course, the molding isn't up yet,but I do think it needs something.” Tom stated.

“It’s definitely not done that’s for sure.” Henry summed it up for all of us. We were in agreement, a good way to start the New Year.

    When we got home we sent Henry to bed as Tom and I started downloading the Doobie Brothers, Hendrix. Elton John and few selections to save Henry from certain geek status.

(Maryruth's room - almost done)

(still needs something - don't know if you can tell, but the stripes go with the colors of the comforter)

(Maybe it needs more lime wash and a bit of blue paint - dots?)