As The Butter Churns

February 28th The Nanny

  

  (geese on the flap)

     Letting the geese out in the morning has become a hazardous event. The formerly docile geese have become a raging bunch of hormonal birds. The ganders have their dander up and will chase me if given half a chance. Even gimpy Alfred is on the attack. Lloyd is aggressive, but will still snuggle when I pick him up. This morning all the wild water poultry came out flapping. All except Matilda. She didn’t want to leave her nest this morning. I figured she was overdue to start sitting on her nest full time, but she’s started and stopped a couple of times before so I’m not sure how this thing actually works. Being first time mothers maybe they don’t either. Clara was sitting on her nest a couple of days ago when the weather was colder and they all sit on them at night, but usually they get up and go out to the pond or languish around the house nibbling on grass and enjoying the winter sunshine. Today Clara wanted to go out with everyone else and so went the day.

(Matilda sitting on her nest)

(Matilda's nest when she's not sitting)

(Matilda's 15 or 16 eggs - can't really tell without moving them - so much for an average of 9-11 eggs)

    A bit later in the afternoon, I went out to the barn to have visit with the residents figuring I hadn’t spent enough time outside during the cold snap and was shocked to see Ruthie sitting on her nest too. I walked closer, thinking she only had about five eggs and it was a little early for her to start sitting. However, when I got right up to her I saw it was not Ruthie at all, but Clara sitting on Ruthie’s nest. It seems she decided she needed to go back and sit on her eggs, but the gate had swung shut during the day and she couldn’t get to her nest, so she figured Ruthie’s would do.

    “Silly goose” I admonished and picked her up and carried her back to her nest. I hung out for a time watching her turn her eggs and settle in, Matilda all the while honking to her instructions or encouragement. It was fascinating to watch. She actually stood right on top of the eggs; her webbed feet folding gently around the shape as she tenderly turned each of the unborn goslings.

(Clara turning her eggs)

(Clara's clutch of eggs - starting a second layer)

(Matilda instructing)

    I had seen Mabel looking for a place to lay her eggs in the last few days. In fact, I’ve gone out flashlight in hand on an egg hunt searching small mounds of grass for a possible deposit but have not yet found any. Mabel had started sitting a lot in the pen with Ruthie so both Alexis and I put extra straw in so she’d have enough stuff to build a nest. Only she didn’t. She either laid eggs in Ruthie’s nest or is simply the hand that rocks the cradle because now Mabel has taken Ruthie’s nest over completely and poor bottom-of-the-pecking-order Ruthie has been relegated to sitting next to her eggs.

(Mabel on the left on the nest - Ruthie on the right with her bum wing)

(Ruthie looks on while Mabel sits the nest)

    (Ruthie's unattended uncovered nest)

    Alexis did find a lone egg out near the front door as he was walking by. We noticed some tiny punctures in the shell.  I’m sure it’s Mabel’s. We both figured a punctured egg was no good, so we cracked it open to see inside. And there was a giant beautiful farm fresh egg. I would have eaten it, much to Tom’s horror. Strangely, he and Go-Go would have made me feel like I was some kind of cannibal. But after all, it is an egg. I wondered, it being so enormous how many Weight Watcher points it would have been. I don’t think they list goose eggs in the basic foods points handbook. The puncture made me nervous with all the nasty bacteria you find on a farm so I decided not to have the omelet much to Tom’s relief.

(Mabel's egg)

(farm-raised cage free)

    When I went back to the barn this evening I noticed both Mabel and Clara were now sharing the eggs. So maybe Ruthie doesn’t have it so bad after all, maybe Mabel is simply the nanny.

(Mabel tends Ruthie's eggs)

(Sharing, Caring)

(Are you my mama? Ruthie on left)

February 27th The Wrestler

  (Taken from Mosquito Lake Road)

(snowy branch looking out toward the pasture - the pond is beyond the trees on the left)

    Today was Henry’s first “Jamboree”, that’s wrestling-speak for a match with a bunch of schools. He didn’t feel well last night, but took some Advil™ and went to bed early vowing not to miss school. In the morning, as we drove to Bellingham, he prattled on about how excited he was and couldn’t wait to get on the bus after school to go with the team. He said the only thing missing was a girl to wave to, but after a sneer from his mother, he acquiesced I would do. After all, a lot of tough athletes wave to their moms.

    I walked into the Shuksan Middle School gym. It looked much as you might expect a middle school gym to look and it smelled much like you might expect a middle school gym filled with sweaty middle school boys to smell. I was already wishing I’d stopped for a coffee.

    I hate to be late and wasn’t because Tom’s in California and can’t slow me down from there, so I found a front row seat almost dead center. There were two huge mats taped together with big giant circles on them and a kid spreading disinfectant on them with a mop.

(cleaning-up the nasty sweat and grime)

    Streams of dads, and granddads filled the gym and of course, there were moms and grandmoms but the audience clearly leaned male. A nice set of grandparents sat next to me, they’d gone through this with their boys and although they were clearly dead set against wrestling for some reason having to do with their son wrapping himself in SaranWrap™ so he’d sweat down to a lower weight class, and hitting his brother when he didn’t win, they were quite friendly and knowledgeable. A good thing, as I knew absolutely nothing about wrestling. Well, except for the names of the Pilgrim brothers who came to Plimoth on the Mayflower named Love and Wrestling. I've always wondered about those Puritains.

    I learned matches start from two positions – neutral, where both are standing, and the referee’s position, where one is on hands and knees and the other is on top. They start at neutral and then each get a chance at the referee’s position. Points are given for takedowns, escapes and reversals. There are also backpoints and penalty points, but I’m not clear on those yet. The length of each section is about a minute in middle school and can be up to three in college.

(not gymnastic caliber cartwheels)

    The teams warmed up stretching directly in front of me. Most boys could barely touch their toes and many were shall we say zaftig, generously proportioned. This was not gymnastics.

    The Jamboree ran on schedule and the referees lined up all the boys smallest to tallest marking their arms with Sharpee™, Henry was 89 (lbs) putting him near the beginning.

  (Orange socked gladiator - note to -Grandpa Horn - sorry - bet you never thought you'd see "Miller" in USC colors)

   

(Henry peering like a hamster into the light - should be wearing his contacts)

    I was a little surprised by the spectacle of it. Five pairs of boys each with a referee walked out onto the mat and shook hands. Then an annoying giant buzzer sounded – the size of the sound was on par with the buzzer at a Laker™ game. I could feel it in my teeth. The opponents went at it while the exuberant referees danced around the pair with great speed and agility holding up fingers to allow the score keeper to know who was achieving what number of points. These referees were great entertainment. Diving to the floor and straining to see if both shoulder blades were touching. The mild-mannered informative seniors next to me suddenly transformed into blood-thirsty fans screaming “get ‘em, get em!” and jumping out of their seats during their scrawny 72 pound grandson’s match. I was thoroughly amused. Then my boy came up.

    The couple next to me didn’t know he was mine and said they thought the other kid was going to win because he clearly had a better technique. After the match they ate their words citing brute strength and determination. Henry came swaggering over to me very proud.

    “Can you believe I won?”

    “That was really great how you pummeled that kid. When you slammed him to the ground I was so proud. Next time make him bleed.” I said in my best bloodthirsty mock. “No, that was really great. You seem like you’re having a good time.”

    “It was so fun! I got to really own him and no one got mad at me. They cheered for me. If only Mrs.S, the kindergarten teacher, could see me now. She always thought I was too rough. Remember when she had me suspended in first grade and I had to miss the field trip to the tide pool?”

    “Forget her, she was always on a power trip. Do you wrestle again?”

    “After all the other guys go.” He said excitedly and went off to lock horns with the other reindeer.

(being part of the wrestling team)

(89 pound weakling - not)

    I looked at the endless line of scantily clad boys, noting some of them had no business wearing spandex and settled into my seat. First, I busied myself with my Weight Watcher™ tracker. After meticulously noting every bite I’d eaten in the past two days, my eyes began getting heavy. The gym was warm and my blinks got longer, the huddles of movement became a blur and suddenly I my head lurched forward. I couldn’t get too comfortable as the aforementioned buzzer went off every 90 seconds with jarring regularity. Somehow I managed to adapt and rested my eyes for quite sometime, dairy products danced in my head.

(If you take a close look at all the characters in this shot you have to ask yourself - Am I on the set of the Wonder Years?)

    Frankly, I almost missed Henry’s second match, but through the Grace of God I woke up just as he was walking on the mat. Wiping the drool from my lips I flipped on the video camera and cheered “C’mon Boo-Boo Bear!” No. I didn’t. I yelled, “Get ‘em Hank!!!” When he was just knee high to an Anatolian Shepherd I used to call him Hankie-Pankie, now it’s his new wrestling name.

    Victorious in his second match, Hankie Pankie informed me he was “U.D.” That’s wrestling-speak for undefeated.

February 26th The Weather Outside is Frightful

(Coach Gordy training Henry on Giants)

    I can learn, I can change and I have proof. Last night, my sister called me at gymnastics and said the hail we had earlier was turning into a full-blown snowstorm.

    “The roads are getting bad fast, I think you should go home.” She said in her ‘I’m now officially protecting you voice.’

    And although I didn’t immediately leave gymnastics with Henry, I did immediately call Alexis to assess the road conditions. He is potentially more laid back about them than I am. “I’ll give you a call if it looks too bad, but for now it’s OK.” He said with authority.

    I didn’t want Henry to have to leave gymnastics when he’s missed a bunch of time due to wrestling. He only gets one more meet to qualify for Regionals and then it’s over for the year. He was working really hard. While I was watching Henry practice giants on the high bar, my friend, Lisa, called and strongly urged me to follow my sister's instructions as she believed my sister the levelheaded one or something of that sort. So I was frankly pretty proud of myself, I had indeed responded in a concerned and responsible manner, and when Alexis called saying, “Time to go, it’s dumping.” We left.

    The ride home was tense with “Family Guy” droning in the background and flakes the size of cell phones flying in my face. The windshield wipers had quickly frozen making a constant pounding noise increasing my stress ten fold. My friend, Lisa called every twenty minutes or so to check on us and although I was a wreck I kept telling her I was fine in an overly cheery voice which irritated her as she could see through my crusty outer shell. We had wisely taken the more traveled route to minimize our chances of getting stuck and even the Interstate 5 was slow going. Along the way Henry and I passed more than one car in a ditch. Each time we stopped and got out cell phone in hand checking to make sure everyone was all right and a tow truck was coming.

    Once to Mosquito Lake Road Henry called Alexis to tell him to expect us home within a half-hour, just in case. The snow on the long dark road was deep. The radio claimed 10 inches had fallen at our elevation in the last couple of hours. I had thought the peppy radio voices were exaggerating, but now I was convinced. We crawled along staying in the single lane of tracks. Occasionally, high centering, but having enough traction to keep going. We were almost to the place where we’d been stuck the first time I went into first gear and started up the hill, leaning forward for good measure.

    “Come on Mama!” Henry encouraged from the dark backseat. The “Family Guy” was now off as I needed the quiet less I completely flip out.  I think I can, I think I can, I think I can I thought as we climbed up the hill the traction control kicking in. Just about three quarters up the hill, headlights came into view traveling on the same single lane tracks. Was that Alexis already coming to get us? No. The massive truck didn’t yield to us and barreled past us. I had to pull off into the deep snow and come to a stop losing my momentum. Henry and I sat there in disbelief.

    “What are the chances of a car coming around the bend in the middle of the evening at just this moment?” I asked incredulously.

“We hardly ever pass anyone.” Henry confirmed. I backed up and tried again and again and again, but I couldn’t get far enough down the hill to gain the same kind of speed. We were now almost immobile in the middle of the road. I wasn’t at all comfortable with this so I backed up again and began fish tailing. My heart beat hard knowing of the drop off just a few feet away. I stopped. I took a few deep breaths and spoke reassuringly to Henry.

    “Mama are you scared?”

    “Well, no not now. I was while we were driving, but now I’m OK. There isn’t anything to worry about this time. We know Alexis is coming very soon. Check the time, he won’t be late. He knows we’re out here so we’re fine.”

    “I’m awake this time and it’s scarier. There isn’t any light at all when you turn off the headlights. I don’t think you should try to move anymore.”

    “I don’t either. We’re not going to make it, so there’s no real point. I just don’t feel comfortable in the middle of the road if someone comes around the turn so I’m going to make one last effort to pull up to the side.” I informed him.

    “OK.” I slammed it in first and made my move stopped the car and waited. True to his word Alexis came along in short order.

(Alexis arrives)

    “Are we going to do the old tractor maneuver?” I asked as he got a towline out of his trusty Jeep™.

    “Yeah, I’ll pull and you take the stuck vehicle.”

    “Well, we’ve had plenty of experience.” I laughed glad he was here. “What am I going to do if you ever move away Lancelot?”
(10 " of snow Whatever!)

(Alexis pulling into position)

(Henry in the van)

    “You’ll manage. I know you.” Was that a compliment or a slam I wondered? I’m still not sure. Alexis backed up with a tad more zip than was called for smashing right into the front of my van. I held my breath. I had a sudden vision of Henry strapped in the Odyssey™ and going over the edge. I stood there helpless watching the van lurch backward sliding just a bit. No harm done. Alexis got out and we assessed. Nothing was wrong with either car. In a jiffy we were hooked up and home.

(Alexis sets up)

    In the end, while I had to admit to my Protective Paisans, my Concerned Clan, my Fearful Family consisting of Tom, my sister Lisa, Mike and my friend, Lisa also known as “Go-Go” that I did indeed get stuck on Mosquito Lake Road. Again. In my defense, I was able to point out it is also true I took logical steps to prevent a repeat of our last ordeal. I might be annoyingly independent, pig-headed and shrill when excited, but I do listen. Sometimes. I might even go as far as admitting I might need taking care of - on occasion.
(Alexis carries a laughing Henry)

(Alexis takes my inappropriately dressed child to the house)

February 25th Hail Mary

  

  (church in Deming)

    The day after Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday, is Ash Wednesday, a Catholic Holy Day of Obligation. The fact it follows Mardi Gras is no accident for those unfamiliar with Lent.

    Mardi Gras is the conscious-free equivalent of eating an entire cheesecake, a gallon of Moosetracks™ and drinking a bottle of Patron before you start your diet. Ash Wednesday is the day of soulful cleansing and commitment before starting your forty-day (Lent) healthier lifestyle ending with a chocolate fest celebration on the highest of Holy days in the Catholic calendar, Easter.

    Traditionally, Catholics give up something for Lent. Our former priest the fun and fabulous Father Chuck always gave up an item he found tempting and controlling, Doritos™. Now there is a caveat, Lent is not supposed to be a substitute for Jenny Craig™. You are not supposed to pick an item – let’s say coffee or doughnuts– which you will return to forty days from now without reflection or change. Rather you’re supposed to thoughtfully select something that might improve your life in someway. This is not a requisite. Others skip the sacrifice subsection go straight for the alms giving portion of the program. A facet of Lent where you decide how you can, not only improve your life, but someone else’s. For instance, volunteering somewhere or helping out around the house or in the case of my friend Nancy, who will be taking her mother-in-law to the Stations of the Cross every Friday.

    This morning just before Henry and I left for school I asked him, “Have you fed the dogs?”

    “Nope.” He said unapologetically.

    “What, we have to leave and might not be home until 10:00PM!” I said in all too quickly escalating and excitable tone.

    “Well, I’ll just feed them extra for dinner.” Henry said with an irritating non-chalance.

     In the car on the way to school I suggested “Hey I have an idea, why don’t you give up being a self-absorbed jerk for Lent?” Henry observed me carefully.

    “Sounds like a good idea.” He said cautiously nodding.

    “How about you skip dinner tonight and I’ll just feed you an extra bagel in the morning.”

    “Mama! I didn’t mean it that way really.

    “The bottom line is you fed yourself and the dogs went hungry. You seriously need to start thinking of others. You just told me the other day you were going to start helping and although I have seen a difference, it all means nothing when you leave those dogs who do nothing but love you to go hungry.”

(Harris Cafe)

(a bit of Spring)

    After dropping off Henry I met Annie and Lisa for breakfast at the Harris Café. We chatted and discussed each of our Lenten intentions. I have decided to give up dairy. This was not an easy decision. This means no taste of butter shall pass my lips. I can barely stand the thought of it. I looked longingly at the one point English muffins crying out for the golden elixir to fill the nooks and crannies. I recalled the 5-point slice of pizza I’d delighted in recently with Alexis at the Beer Shrine. But I was resolute. I needed to think of my heart health, my cholesterol and my weight. Giving up dairy would certainly be a positive but difficult change in my life. Annie and Lisa suggested I consider a calcium supplement.

    I called around looking for a Mass we could manage to get to and was reminded once again we’re not in Los Angeles. In the city you just take options for granted. I scoured Deming, Bellingham, Mt. Vernon, Burlington and Sedro Wooley and the only afternoon Mass available was in the St. Joseph Hospital chapel. I called Assumption Catholic church to verify I’d understood this correctly.

    “Yep, it’s at the hospital.” Said the jovial guy on the other end of the phone. “It’s not hard to find, just go in the main entrance to the hospital and ask at the Information desk. It’s right near there. Good luck.” He said before hanging up.

(St. Joseph)

    I picked up Henry from school. I’ve never seen him so happy to go to church, but he was getting out of Language Arts so he was thrilled. We drove the few miles to the hospital went to the front entrance and soon found the tiny chapel. It was fairly full when we arrived and during the Mass people continued to stream in. Old ladies with blue hair, men with canes, girls with miniskirts and leg-warmers, doctors and nurses in scrubs sad people, busy people, smiling people had all come to observe this day and receive their ashes. The remnants of the palms from last year’s Palm Sunday.

(Fr. K. Scott Connelly - Assumption Catholic Church pastor)

(the Gifts)
    There is a strong sense of community in church. Holding the person’s hand saying prayers you all know and being together to share a moment. Everyone there is trying with purity of heart. Certainly, we won’t all succeed, but we’re there with the best intentions.

    As we filed up to receive our ashes, Henry bolted out of my line and did end run for the deacon who was also giving out ashes on the other side. I shrugged and stepped forward.
“From ashes you came and ashes you will return” he said as he took a chubby thumb full of ashes and gave me a beefy cross over my prominent forehead. “Amen” I said and returned to my place where Henry already stood in prayer.

(Henry in chapel sporting his ashes)

    “ I took one look at the size of the ashes he was giving out and went for the other line.” He said sizing up the cross peeking out from under my bangs.

    “I like a big one.” I said. “I mean if I’m going to get a cross on my face I might as well have it look like it’s something.” I drifted back as I do every year to shopping at Westward Ho in Brentwood when I was single. I loved marketing on Ash Wednesday. It was a wonderful tradition that they mark all the Catholic men so I could find them so easily.

    I said a prayer for the church, for my mother, for help and guidance in my life and for the healing of my friend, Lisa.  As part of Henry’s religious education we agreed he would memorize some of the Catholic prayers during Lent, after all if he could memorize the Ultimate Battle of Ultimate Destiny in one day he could memorize a couple of lines. While we walked out the sliding doors he repeated “Hail Mary full of Grace”
  (Henry getting pelted)

    “Hail Mary full of Grace” He said stepping out into the parking lot, as the heavens suddenly opened and we were covered in hail. “Well, that is really is a Hail Mary.” I said wryly.

    “Mama!” Henry exclaimed appreciatively as we laughed until we were almost doubled over, covered in little frozen pellets.
  (Henry and Mama - Denise with our ashes)

We discussed the meaning of the readings on the way to wrestling and what we could do for others. After he got out of the car, I went over to a cute little coffee shop in Fairhaven as I had almost two hours to kill.

 The delicious tangled smell of spiced teas, sweet pastries and roasted coffee filled the air as I made my way to the counter and chatted with the friendly girl working there.

    “What can I get for you?” She asked. I eyed the teas.

(my choices)

“I’d love a tea. 16 ounce. Well, what I truly want is an Earl Grey.” This was my first test. I felt like St.Peter waiting for the cock to crow three times. Would I cave this soon? “But you see I really like milk in my Earl Grey, just a splash really, but I gave up dairy for Lent. So I guess, I’ll go with Passion and stay pious, this being my first day and all.” I said embracing my sacrifice.

    “Well,” She said with a gleam. “You could have soy milk – it’s non-dairy.”  She said it like I was cheating. Circumventing the rules and I liked it.

  (my angel)

    “Wow, you’re good.” She smiled and I meant it. “Soy? I’d never thought of that. I’ll try it.” I’d past the test. The cock did not crow and I sipped my sumptuous hot tea by a roaring fire without guilt. It almost felt like it was Tuesday again.
(my soy milk Earl Grey).

February 24th Night Moves

(bright light disappearing into the mountain)

    In the evening after Henry went to sleep, I pulled out my pink hula-hoop and started hooping. I figure I can’t do much exercise with an injured leg, but perhaps I can do a little something to tighten my tummy. I’ve always been a good hula hooper. The house was silent save my hula-hoop making the rhythmic swishing noise from the doodads inside it. It was relaxing really hearing the beads or whatever they are whoosh around. Whoosh, Whoosh, Whoosh then swish, swish, swish as I fought to keep it up on my hips. It gave me time to think. Think about the call I got regarding selling Anna to a couple on the San Juan Islands looking for a Milking Devon.

  (Abe, Andy and Anna)

I’d thought about selling Anna a million times, as she isn’t as cuddly as I’d like her to be. I’d proposed perhaps artificially inseminating her and making a deal to get her first heifer calf so we could hand raise it. They could keep any bull she produced. We’ll see. I thought about Nancy, the homesteader, who wants Cotton Patch Geese and interestingly might just have a few rare, heritage Black Java and Dominique chicks to trade. I thought about how Matilda is finally sitting on her nest full time and how and how Ruthie has now laid three eggs of her own. I was pondering Wayne moving out this weekend and considering how Henry was much like my mother complaining about low thread count sheets without even knowing they were low thread count ‘they just seem itchy and weird” I mulled over the idea of margaritas without salt. I was happily lost in thought when Irish started barking out on the front porch. He’d been banished there for snorting around and taking my spatula out of the dishwasher then using it as his chew toy. His barks were not loud frantic barks, but low rumbling growls. I let my pink light-up hula-hoop fall to the floor and decided to go out and investigate.

(Irish with chewed spatula)
(a swirling circle of pink light)

    Excitedly I turned the knob and stepped out on the porch. As I closed the door shutting out the light I suddenly felt like prey. I stood on the porch with my hand on Irish’s back feeling his body ripple with each growl. I felt vulnerable peering out into the blackness. Facts like “A cougar can leap 30 feet in one bound” came to mind. Yet, I was excited and felt safe next to the big guy. The barn light shining so bright made everything else seem inky. I followed Irish’s gaze. He was transfixed on one spot. Letting my eyes relax I tried to allow them to simply detect motion, I was going to be the predator, but I saw nothing. Half of me wanted to see Karen, the cougar come striding out from behind a bush while the other half hoped she would have the good taste to stay tucked behind some brush.

(Tom's non-functional flashlight)

    Frustrated, I backed up and leaned inside the door grabbing Tom’s super-duper-light-up-the-entire-world-flashlight. I hurried back to Irish’s side and flipped the switch. It was dead. Dead? How in the world was it dead? I’d charged it and put it by the front door for just such an occasion. Whatever, it was dead. I went in and grabbed the Home Depot flashlight. It was dead. Now I was getting annoyed. I went in and grabbed the smaller yellow one and flicking it on before I walked a step. The same – they were all dead. Without hesitating I ran to the laundry room and grabbed the smaller black flashlight everyone always makes fun of for it’s thready, spindly beam that’s just one step above a flickering candle. It worked. I hurried out to Irish who was still transfixed. My eyes needing to adjust again, I started sweeping the area for eyes. The beam dissipating into nothing as it reached out into the night. Back and forth I went with the light emphasizing the area to the right of the vegetable garden. I hadn’t thought of it then, but that is the start of cougar hill. It was just a flash, but I saw them, iridescent green flickers caught by the tiny glow of my flashlight. I tried to go back and pick them up again, but to no avail. They’d been right behind the garden. Was it Karen? Was it a coyote? Was it a raccoon? I have no idea. I tried for a while to search for more but when Irish lost interest so I figured whatever it was had gone and I gave up.

(Irish with the chip clip just before it was recovered)

(my little weight)

    We went inside and as Irish started gnawing on a dark blue plastic chip clip I picked up my three-pound neoprene weights and remembering the night vision monocular Tom had gotten me. He'd scared me, telling me I needed complete darkness and with the bright glow of the barn light I didn't want to whip it out with out reading the instruction manual. Now if only my reading comprehension level was just a bit better on Japanese electronics I'd be in business. No matter I'm sure I can watch some tutorial on youtube My thoughts began to twist and turn around as I anticipated the thrilling nighttime adventures in store.

February 21st Sixth Sense

   

(forest for the trees)

    Just as I was about to walk out the door, the phone rang. I didn’t want to answer it as I had just enough time to get to school to pick up Henry, but as I glanced at the caller id I saw it was the school.

    “Hello?”

    “Hey Mama, do I have to go to gymnastics today?” He asked full of hope. My mind quickly processed the situation. He was going to miss more than half the workout today anyway because I’d let him stay until the end of wrestling and gymnastics started early. He obviously wanted to do something which meant a possible friend.

    “Sure you can miss gymnastics. Why?”

    “Well, my friend Robby wants me to come over and maybe go to the movies.”

    “OK, but call me when you get there and call me before you go to the movies and then I’ll come and pick you up”

    “OK, Mama, thanks!”

    “Have fun!” I called as the phone hung up. I stood there wanting to be happy. It seemed great. He had someone who wanted him to come over. A friend. That’s what I’d hoped for when he started wrestling and yet, I stood in the kitchen filled with uncertainty. I tried to shake the strange, but all too familiar feeling. I hoped it was just an overprotective mother mode kicking in, but I feared it was more of an intuitive feeling.

    Over the years, I’ve learned to trust the nagging little voice tugging at my heart. Very bad things happen when I don’t. One moment lives in infamy.

    I stood looking at the big beautiful home on Orange Grove just off Sunset. My soon to be roommate Dixon looked at me and said, “What are you thinking?”

 “I think this house is going to change our lives” was my response. She said later she had been struck the enormity by my statement. She’d expected me to say something fun or positive and was puzzled by ominous remark. But the truth is I didn’t want to move in to the house, yet I couldn’t come up with one logical reason not to. It was very cheap, my ex-boyfriend, Franz owned the place and was giving us a screaming deal. It was in the area, Dixon and my sister had wanted to live and we’d looked at so many dumps, this was a real opportunity. Still, I knew in my heart it was wrong. Suffice to say we lived there two weeks. And those two weeks changed our lives forever. We were stalked, held at gunpoint and I was raped. Despite the terrible events I learned a lot about myself and have been able to help other women along the way.

    When I moved to Minneapolis, I didn’t have a job. And I didn’t have a place to live so when I was offered a job at an advertising agency, I felt I had to take it. Yet, I hesitated. I didn’t like the feel of the place; I didn’t like anything about it, their clients, the décor anything. It felt sterile and unhappy. But I really needed the money and I knew I should take it. Little did I know the owner of the agency was a convicted sex offender who was only allowed to be on the premises a certain amount of time a month. I’d taken a job working for the devil. Once again, I paid. The details of which I cannot elaborate upon due to a non-disclosure statement, but it did help me learn how to really stand up for myself.

    Conversely, when I “foolishly” defied logic and purchased a little fixer-upper in foreclosure, it turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life, I made money and was deliriously happy with being a homeowner, painting my living room bright yellow with an orange ceiling to go with my purple sofa.

    It’s a funny thing about following your instincts. You don’t get handy dandy print out of all the bad things that could have happened. 1. Didn’t fall victim to freakish street magician by attending party in tawdry neighborhood 2. Didn’t hire bad-tempered untalented, insecure girl who would later cause all sorts of havoc with sundry threats and lawsuits. If we did get these reinforcements of what might have been perhaps we wouldn’t let our guard down. Ever. But alas, we don’t get those validations and so once again the universe must teach us a lesson.

    I waited uneasily for Henry’s call. And as promised he called, but this time he pushed me farther asking me to spend the night. There was a tone in his voice I found unsettling, but he said all the right words and I wanted him to have fun and not to miss out.

    When the mother got on the phone, a tingling went through my body. Every alarm bell I had was ringing loud and clear. Yet, she said all the right things and I didn’t have any reason to say no.

    “Well, I’d like to pick him up around 10:00 so I’ll give you a call in the morning. I hope he’ll behave and be polite for you.” I said, knowing he would.

    “Well, if he isn’t Robby’s big brother will take care of him.” She said laughing. “No. I’m just kidding.” She recanted.

    “People who are kidding don’t need to say they’re just kidding.” I told Tom later.

    Since I had no logic to support me and there was nothing I could do about it I tried to enjoy the evening. I poured a glass of wine and sat on the sofa in front of a roaring fire chatting on the phone intending to watch a documentary on Lincoln’s body but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to work the darn thing without Henry. I just kept getting a blue screen with the DirecTV logo bouncing around like a game of pong.

    In the morning I called the sleepover three times before my first cup of coffee. No answer. No answer? You have eight boys over for a sleepover and you don't answer the phone? I left messages and my phone number. I didn’t leave the house even to feed the animals because I’ve been having trouble with my call forwarding. Finally, I put on my navy coveralls at 10:30 asked Wayne to answer the phone and went to clean the barn with Alexis.

(me with Apache as I scrape the junk out)

     Surrounded by the animals, I tried to relax. Cleaning the barn is one of the things I dread, but love once I get started. It’s physically exhausting and yet rewarding. I love the smell of the barn and talking to the animals. It’s like going to the gym but better. The cold air in my face and the pitchfork in my hand I let my mind wander. I thought dark thoughts of Henry’s friend Harry going over to the neighbors and dying just afterward. Murder was never proven, but as the police said things don’t work like CSI. Just because someone is your neighbor doesn’t mean they’re a person to be trusted, “some one lived next door to Jeffrey Dahmer”.  Time moved slowly. I didn’t think Henry was going to die, but something wasn’t right. I knew it or at least I was letting my imagination get the better of me. He’d probably call having had a wonderful time and I’d have stewed for nothing.

(Ruthie laid an egg and built an uber nest - while Mabel looks on)

(a pile of poop and urine soaked straw)
  (If only I could whistle while I worked)

  (Alexander on another poop pile)

(A nice cozy clean barn)

(Miracle peeks)

  (Miracle refuses to come in for the night unless she gets a packer pellet)

(Clara sitting pretty)

    I went in the house to check and sure enough there was a message from The Boy. “Hey Mama, heard you called. Call me back.” He sounded fine.

    So I called and got the address. I knew I couldn’t get there for about an hour and it was already noon. I called Lisa. “I’ll get him within ten minutes.” She said reassuringly.

    I finished phase one of the barn with Alexis and headed out to town covered in gunk. When I came into cell range, I called and spoke to Henry.

    “Hey Sweetie! Did you have a great time?” I asked as upbeat as I could muster.

    “No.” He said sullenly. “I’ll tell you later. I’m hanging out with Chris. We’re male bonding. Lisa went to the hospital cause Lauren broke her arm playing soccer.”

    “I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” I was stunned. I had been right. I wondered what could have happened, but no matter he was safe now.

    On the way home Henry said “Robby just acted completely different when we were at his house. He was mean. He screamed at his mom calling her a crack-head and a pothead. His older brother does drugs and beats their mother. She had to have surgery on her back. She told me she had Robby taken away from her and she worked hard to get him back and then he’s like that to her. There was no respect. I was appalled.”

    “Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.”

    “I don’t know. I should have. They watched horror movies and I knew I just couldn’t do that so I went in another room.”

    “Well, I’m glad you knew how to take care of yourself. You know I had a bad feeling about the place, but I thought you’d have been broken-hearted if I’d have said you couldn’t stay. Next time I feel that way I’m going to follow my instincts.”

    “Sounds good to me. The place smelled funny – and I was scared. His mother told me I shouldn’t upset his brother. It worried me. His brother said he wished his mother would be raped and murdered and that he'd pee and poop on her grave. I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know why I can’t find normal friends like I used to have like Kyle, Sam, Brady and Nick Melvin.”

    “His brother is disgusting. The whole thing sounds like a nightmare. I have to admit, this is harder than I ever thought it would be. Quinn has nice friends like Marnie and Lauren. At least you're in middle school and not elementary.”

    "I'd go back to elementary if I could go Woodland Hills and be with my friends - even if Mrs. Feig was principal again." That was saying something.

    Later Lisa called to see how Henry was, "He's fine. He's having teriyaki chicken on a bed of angel hair with a side of edamame and brownies for desert."

    "Did Wayne cook?" She laughed.

    "Shut-up." She laughed at me.

     We ate in front of the TV snuggled up under a blanket with the dogs catching up on  "Grey's Anatomy". 

    “Henry I’m so tired I’ve got to go to sleep.” I said with my eyes closed on the sofa.

    “OK. Mama, I’m just  going to clear the dishes.”  I lay there for a few more minutes as I heard clanking. I got up and walked into the kitchen where I was surprised to see my boy unloading the dishwasher.

    “What are you doing?”

    “I thought I’d unload and load the dishes so you won't have to do it in the morning”

    “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

    “Well, I guess that sleepover made an impression on me. Maybe it was good I went. I thought about how Robby treated his mother and while I would never talk to you that way, I thought about how I do treat you and I realize I don’t do very much around here except for myself or if you ask me. I’m going to help out around here more. You do everything for me and I don’t do very much for you.”

    I guess everything happens for a reason.

February 18th A Wing And A Prayer

  (warm and cozy Irish)

    Peeking out the front door to check on Irish who was sunbathing on the porch I was struck by the silence. Stellar Jays flitting around the lawn looking for food made soft clicks. I looked out on the pasture, the cows were sprawled out on the brown grass soaking up the sunshine chewing their cud. Listening carefully I could hear chainsaws in the distance clear cutting up the mountain, the breeze mimicking a stream trickled through the tops of the surrounding forest. But I couldn't hear them. I got my binoculars and peered toward the pond. Nothing. I couldn't detect flapping or honking.  "Hey, hey, hey, little geese, little geese. Hey, hey, hey little geese!" I called in my deep and echoing goose herding voice. Nothing. I pushed my nervousness back; after all they were adult geese now not goslings. They walked to the pond on a regular basis despite the dangers. They had their nests full of eggs and they always came home before dark.

(Irish Clarence -snoozing in the winter sun keeping an eye on his cows)

    Ignoring my fears I went about my business, busying myself with different projects needing my attention. I wrapped things up early making Henry a ham sandwich for gymnastics, knowing I had to pick up Phoebe from school and get her to soccer then get Quinn from volleyball and Henry from wrestling. They'd need Slurpees™ it was so warm. I walked to the car threw my purse on the passenger seat and got in, I put my key in the ignition and just sat there. I couldn't leave. I had to check on my little geese. I don't worry this much about Henry. I was nervous walking all the way to the pond on my bad leg since it was just now feeling better. But I had to go, so I chose my path carefully. As quickly as I could I hoofed it out there. Still I heard nothing. Almost to the pond I saw an enormous wing.
(Large Winged Bird)

My chest tightened with fear. My brain raced like a zip file trying to match the wing to the predator. In less than a flap I thought Eagle? Was one of the geese dead? The wingspan was large enough, but the color not quite right. Owl? Wrong body shape. Hawk? The wing was much too big. We don't have Condors. Immature eagle? Then the wing flapped and instantly I relaxed. It was a Great Blue Heron moving across the pond because I was approaching. It had been hanging with my geese who stood there somewhat dumbfounded not making a sound. I wondered if they were looking at this fellow with fear, curiosity or admiration. He was obviously fishing my pond for Henry's trout.

(hungry and looking for lunch)

Startled again, the enormous raptor with a wingspan of more than six feet took off flying a short distance onto a branch almost completely disappearing into the trunk of a barren tree. Evolution’s camouflage proving once again to be more exact than even the highly praised Home Depot color-matching machine.

(A perfect match)

(falling in line)

    My little geese turned and looked over at me, and like good obedient little geese they started to line up heading toward me assuming it was time to come in. Seeing they were safe, I told them they could stay and headed back to the car. I didn't want to be late to pick up Stinkerbell (Phoebe). Now I'm not completely delusional, I know they don't truly understand me, but I thought they'd received the message I'd sent. Figuring out I didn't need them when I didn't wait for them. Trotting carefully across the pasture I glanced back over my shoulder. They weren't following me anymore. They did understand, we'd communicated.

February 16th Sweet Sixteen

  

(Sunny Bellingham Bay)

     Driving to Lisa’s house on a bright sunny day is glorious. The air is crisp and clear, the mountains gleaming and just as they fade into the distance, Bellingham Bay comes into view veiled with towering pines along the coastline. Someone should pinch me, this is February in the Pacific Northwest? We’ve barely seen a drop of rain.

    Quinn called me on my cell to make sure I would be arriving soon. It seems, Lisa was at work and the three kids were “cleaning-up” before she got home. When I arrived what I found was Quinn slowly pushing dust, and scraps of paper from one end of the room to the other with a broom. I say slowly as if she has another speed, which she doesn’t. However, she had no problem bossing Phoebe and Henry around like a drill sergeant. Clearly from the tone of her voice they weren’t measuring up.

    I stood by assessing the scene for a while wondering if Lisa had anything good to eat in her cupboards. A quick glance rewarded me with some chocolate meringues from Trader Joes™. You can have about 5 for only a point. A few minutes of shrieking and I had to put a stop to the chaos. I hushed everyone and took charge. I really didn’t want Lisa walking into the mess they’d made in the living room or my afternoon was going to go to hell in a hand basket. Lisa’d done the old trick my mother used to do. My mother used call about a half an hour before she was going to arrive so as to get Lisa and I to clean up. I always thought she was stupid not knowing the edge it gave us. Until one evening at a café over a glass of wine in Brugge she admitted she’d played us like a violin. I could see Lisa had mastered the technique and was clearly employing it here. And still after all these years I didn’t want to be the one to get in trouble so I cleaned even if they didn’t.

    Lisa arrived on schedule and we chatted in the kitchen while she fixed chicken burgers for our low point lunch. As she took out the fixin’s she told me about her new charge, Kassie. It seems Kassie was brought in the clinic to be euthanized. But Lisa refused. The owner had developed Alzheimers and the adult sons wanted to shoot the dog.

    “Are you flippin’ kidding me?” I asked truly shocked.

    “One of the daughters decided to bring her in to me to put her down. And I wasn’t going to put down a perfectly healthy dog.” Lisa vowed. Now Kassie, the sweet-faced black wiggly lab is looking for a home. I know Lisa will find her one or Kassie will end up on the farm with me.  Six dogs? – I hope Kassie finds a home.

    Lisa reflexively fixed me a coffee for the road and took Quinn to her hair appointment while Henry and I went off to purchase his Valentine present, wrestling shoes. En route I heard a news story about women who drink at least four cups of coffee a day cutting their risk for stroke by 20 percent. Ahhha, so much for my friend, St. Teresa who is “giving it up”. Why does every one seem to think there is virtue in such denial? Frankly, I think a friendly vice or two makes someone more interesting. But then I have a tendency to be a little bit bad within reason.

(Prostock in Bellingham)

    Henry and I arrived at ProStock looking for wrestling shoes. Henry has just joined the school wrestling team and loves it. It’s a dream come true for him. He gets to wrestle kids for the first time and not get in trouble for being stronger. He used to love to wrestle his best friend, Harry Schumacher when they were just tots. And it was ok because it was a draw. They were evenly matched BamBams, but since we lost Harry, Henry has never had another friend he could play with so physically. Until now.

(inside ProStock)

    I was sort of surprised by my son as he walked in the store. He marched confidently right up to the man behind the counter and asked for a pair of wrestling shoes.

    “I only have polka dot.” The man teased with a gleam.

     “That’s perfect. I had my heart set on polka dots.” Henry volleyed.

    “Ok then, follow me.” And off they went off to size Henry up. It was a quick session as the first pair fit like a glove. I asked if wrestling shoes were really so very important, but I was quickly sold on traction and safety.

    “Is he pretty strong?” The man asked as Henry went to examine a pair of orange and black flame socks closely resembling the paint job on a 1970s van.

(socks under consideration)

    “His muscles have muscles. He’s in gymnastics and although he’s not very big, the kids are shocked when he takes his shirt off. Wrestling is giving him a real chance to wow the seventh and eighth graders.”

    “Hey do you practice wrestling on your mom?”

    “On my mom? I can’t take my mom. You don’t know how strong she is. She doesn’t look tough, but you wouldn’t believe it. I might have a chance now since she hurt her leg.” Henry snickered tying his shoes.

    Up at the counter, Henry asked “Hey, what about my polka dots?” The salesman replied, I’m fresh out. I’ll have to let your mother put them on with a Sharpee™”

    When we got to the car, I sung out loud and strong the traditional new shoe song, my mother always sang to me.

(my funny Valentine)

 

“Whenever Henry has his new shoes on,
 his new shoes on, his new shoes on,
we will sing a song,
it needn’t be too long,
when ever Henry has his new shoes on.”

    “Thanks Mama. Now I can really pummel Jacob and when his nose bleeds I can blame it on the hard mat.”

    “That’s nice dear.” To boys, bodily functions and emisis oozing from any orifice are a good thing.

    Upon our arrival home we happened on Alexis doing his self-assigned evening chores. After some discussion about the recent egg laying schedule it was decided Matilda might be done laying as she had eight eggs and hadn't laid in a couple of days now. "How many does Clara have all together?" Henry asked.

    "Seven." I replied. And despite the weather we decided we should probably return all the eggs we’d collected to their respective nests.
(Clara's eggs marked)
(Expectant Mothers -Clara on left - pink bill, pink feet - Matilda in orange)

(Matilda's eggs)

(Matilda's clutch)

(Clara's nest)

 

(Henry replaces Lloyd  & Clara's eggs)

  (Henry and Lloyd - our Arnold Ziffle- snuggle)

    However, as we took out the fool-her eggs and replaced them with the real McCoy we found Matilda had actually laid one more, a total of 16. Undeterred by the cold and the possibility the geese might not be ready to sit, we returned the eggs to their nests trusting in Mother Nature, Clara and Matilda.
   

February 15th A Helping Hand

 (frosted trees as it begins to snow again)

    I languished in bed until the sun screamed at me to get up. When I looked outside I was surprised to see winter was back. The night had silently provided a glistening winter wonderland. Hobbling downstairs I poured a cup of coffee and walked outside onto the porch. Curled up with a blanket I there chatting on the phone in my green flannel pajamas, talking and laughing the morning away as the geese carried on their own conversation like a happy bunch of Greeks.

    Most of the day I spent in bed resting my leg. It was throbbing and I began wondering if it was ever going to heal. About noon, I was supposed to go retrieve Henry. The prospect of a shower was daunting, so I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and put on some lip-gloss. On my way out the door I spotted Alexis rigging up something in the barn. He’d just collected another of Clara’s eggs. I decided to put it in my jacket pocket to show Phoebe. She’d definitely want to see it.

(clear skies surround the twin sisters)
    I drove the ten miles to the little café on Mt. Baker Hwy where Lisa, Chris and the kids were waiting for me. They’d already ordered. As I pulled the egg out of my pocket I saw Phoebe’s eyes dance. “Whose egg is that?” She asked in awe.

    “Why’d you bring that?” Quinn asked with all the teenage angst she could muster.

    “Can I hold it?” Phoebe asked.

    “It’s covered in poop.” Quinn pointed out.

    “You’ll have to wash your hands before you eat.” Chris reminded her.

    “That’s ok.” She said gently taking the egg in her hands. We continued talking about the different nests and goose behaviors. I told Lisa I had the fool-her eggs in Matilda and Clara’s nests.

    “Not exactly the number, but it’s not like they can count.” I said laughingly.

    “Well actually they can.” She said seriously.

    “What?”

    “Yes. They count them and turn them for even heating.” She informed the table. While she was talking I looked over at Phoebe. She was absently petting the egg.

    “Are you petting the egg?” Chris asked choking out a laugh.

    “Yeah, I guess I am.” Phoebe said with a big smile. I vowed to put the proper amount of eggs in the nests, and was just about to take Henry when he begged to stay with Chris, Lisa and the girls “Just one more day. Pleeeeeze!”

    “Sure why not?” I gave in a perhaps too quickly. Isn't  a mother is supposed to pine for her child or something. I had visions of lounging in my bed getting some work done filling my head. The idea of no one to make dinner for, no one to ask me for anything, just peace and quiet was an interesting idea.

(Alexis' goose rig)

(other half of the room)

    I got home as Alexis was finishing with his barn rig. It was pretty sweet. He had divided the goose stall in to two separate areas for the two couples. Each had their own dog carrier as their potentially portable nest. They could share water, and food, but remain separate. While the other four were in the old dog pens clipped together in the center of the barn making a menacing sound. I felt badly for Miracle; those big ears and all. I wondered if the racket drove her absolutely nuts or if the animals liked the activity.

(Miracle wonders what all the fuss is about)

(Alexis and Cleveland)

(The egg-less couples - by choice)

I went inside the house with the intention of doing some stuff on the computer, but Alexis built me a fire in the family room and I relaxed with my leg up as another couple of hours melted away catching up with old friends.

    After the barn was closed up for the night, Alexis and I decided to hit the North Fork Beer Shrine – Pizza- and Wedding Chapel. I’d saved my points and was ready for the house cab. We had a great dinner and a long talk about life, our hopes our dreams and how we intended to re-introduce the goose eggs. What came next was unexpected. I don’t know why maybe it was the wine, or the snow or the long talks I’d had with my friends lately, but I found myself opening up and admitting I’d felt his help around the farm had been a sort of criticism. I told him I'd felt every time he helped, he was constantly telling me I didn’t measure up. He looked at me quizzically.

    “I’d sensed something.” He said matter-of-factly.

    “You see when you feed the cows a bale of hay, I feel you think I should have fed the cows a bale of hay the day before and I’m not really taking care of the cows the way I should. The same with cleaning the barn. I guess you could say I have a hard time accepting help. This drove many boyfriends away.” He nodded readily acknowledging how this might be a problem with just a little too much understanding. I ignored this most recent affront. “I’ll never forget one boyfriend telling me quite honestly, ‘Denise I know I’ll never be your hero.’ I guess, my injury, my leg has made me slow down. I can’t tell you how much your help has meant to me these past two weeks. I don’t know how I would have done it with out you.”

    “Your welcome.” He said with a grin. “You know as I’ve said before, this place isn’t a one man job or even a two man job. You really need Tom up here and help on top of that. How about if you feed in the morning and just know I’ll handle the evening. You don’t have to ask, we don’t have to arrange, you don’t have to confirm, just know I have it covered.” He offered magnanimously.

    “Thank you.” I said taking another big sip of the at least 3 point glass of wine.
     When dinner was finished, Alexis waved me away and paid the bill. He stood up and extended his hand. “I’m Alexis, it’s been nice to meet you.” He said warmly. I’d made a new friend.

February 14th Sleepless Near Seattle

  (sunrise on the mountains)
  Reluctantly I opened my eyes at 6:00AM. Not a particularly early time to get up unless of course, you stayed up 'like an ass wrapping heart-shaped Rice Krispie treats in cellophane, tying them with fuchsia bows and talking on the phone 'til 3:00AM.

    Knowing I had to get in gear I threw a pot of coffee on took a hot shower and hobbled up and down the stairs getting Henry's uniform ready. Before I woke him up I went on an astrological website and found my love sign match – Virgo woman, Capricorn man. It seems we're perfect for each other. We always get along and have the same perspective. It is true whatever problems we have it isn't how we get along. I pondered, is this because we never see each other? Anyway, I sent Tom a copy as I sipped on my coffee. Next I looked up Capricorn woman, Libra man – Lisa and Chris. As I read it I almost spit out my coffee I laughed so hard. It spoke of mis-communication and gave them a 50/50 chance of making it on this their 17th year of marriage. Not everyone can have in-sinc biorhythms I copied it and sent it to Lisa.
(Clara's Fool-her eggs)

     Limped upstairs and woke Henry, fed the dogs, cats, geese, lambs, goats and the donkey. Gave everyone fresh water, checked on Henry's progress and sent him back  to brush his teeth. He had lion breath. We loaded up the car with our assigned items minus the crock pot as it had a small crack. I didn't think was appropriate for serving food items to the public.

    Henry and I arrived at the gym early so we sat outside for a few minutes as I ate my chocolate caramel Weight Watchers™ bar. A tad early for sweets, but what the heck. When the rest of the parents came tumbling in, we got to work decorating the gym. I was naturally selected to go get the coffee urns at Starbucks™. It worked out well as the bubbly girl filling them thought I needed and deserved a Grande drip for my efforts – on the house. I thought she was very insightful.

(Kessa making the price list)

(Michelle and Kim working the stand)
(my little creations)

(getting the gym ready)

    The parents hosted the concession stand and so I stood for next five hours, not doing my sore leg any favors. By the time we left, I was near tears in pain. I got to the car and drove home to feed the all the animals. Henry my little chatterbox was full of excitement about his performance. He was happy he'd proven his scores at Black Jack weren't a fluke. We stopped for goose food at the feed store and I got into a discussion on goslings. The lady at the counter had a 16 year-old goose who slept in a dog bed on her porch. It sounded darling but all I could think of was goose poop.

    We got home to find all the animals fed and put away. Alexis had struck again bless his heart. He had the most recent egg from Matilda; we took it in the house and got ready for the evening's festivities.

    Lisa had purchased tickets at a small theatre in honor of my mother's upcoming birthday. My mom was a great believer in making memories by doing things and in attending the theatre. The show was a Sherlock Holmes play starring Quinn and Phoebe's new piano teacher. 

(the playbill)

    Henry and I arrived early collected the tickets at will call and waited in the cute theatre for the clan to arrive. Nana, Chris, Quinn, Phoebe and Lisa came strolling in and we took our seats. The set was lovely, the seats cozy and the theatre warm.

(Lisa and Phoebe with crimped hair)

(Quinn,The Amazing Donaldson - Chris and Henry)
(Quinn should consider a photography class - as she chopped our heads off)

(Quinn taking Quinn)

(almost time)

    As the play began, I realized, the day had caught up with me and I was tired. My leg throbbed as I tried to get comfortable. Sitting in the audience watching the actors I started taking long slow blinks. I could hear voices in the background as I shook my head to stay awake. And then again, I would slip away coming back to see Sherlock playing the violin or conducting a séance. Dr. Watson would be stomping around the room and I heard an occasional "Elementary"bandied about.

(Quinn and Henry clowning in a very middle school way)
 (Henry and Phoebe enjoying the donated snacks)

(Henry and Nana -Annie)

Thankfully coffee was served at intermission. I chuckled to myself as Annie said she was having a hard time staying awake and Quinn had admitted she'd nodded off. Phoebe simply curled up in a ball under Lisa's coat and took a nap. The play was a little talkie reminiscent of a French film like "Dinner with Andre". It needed a little melodrama, some excitement, some music perhaps or some fun special effects otherwise what I saw was pretty wonderful.

(221-B Baker Street)

    Henry begged to stay the night at Lisa's and so I drove home alone after a stop at Crusin' Coffee in the Trader Joes™ parking lot. I will never get over how lovely it is to have drive- thru coffee kiosks. Pure genius. No getting out of your car on cold nights.

    

When I got home, I called Lisa to let her know I'd arrived safely. She informed me Quinn was very worried I was all alone because she didn't want me to be lonely. I assured her I'd be fine as I sleepily climbed in between my flannel sheets surrounded by five snoring dogs and three purring cats. It sounded like I was residing in an old age home and I can assure you I was not lonely.

February 13th In The Pink

(a very pregnant Kessa - pronounced "keesa")

(heart-breaker Jesse)

(hearts galore)

    As is my modus operandi, I started thinking about the Valentines meet we were hosting at Mt. Baker Gymnastics on Thursday. I swung by Michael’s™ after dropping Henry off for practice and showed up with a pack of construction paper. Kessa, one of the other moms, and I started cutting out hearts, while Laura, who hates arts & crafts, took an inventory of supplies. Together we decided on what to serve at our concession stand and everyone got a reminder of what to bring on construction paper scraps.

(Henry's not ready for prime time high bar giants)

    My list consisted of a crock-pot, toaster, ladle and a basket filled with goodies to raffle off. After his three hour practice, Henry and I went to the market to get the stuff. Henry enamored with the iphone (that doesn’t work as a phone) Alexis gave him stayed in the car playing with the different free applications he downloaded while I hobbled into the market. Laura called on her way home from work to chat, and if there’s one thing Laura’s good at it’s shopping.  So with the assistance of my phone friend, I decided to make it easy and put together a movie night basket.  We chatted as I threw a liter of root beer in the cart. We deliberated about the evils of soda, but I wasn’t up to being that politically correct. I quickly found the JiffyPop™ threw in a couple and headed over to the candy aisle. After great deliberation regarding the benefits of Junior Mints over Red Hots, M&Ms (with and without peanuts) we agreed on Whoppers™ and Mike & Ikes™ as they were fairly benign choices with a broad appeal. And on sale. The DVD was a process of its own. Should it be G rated or could I go up to PG-13? When I found a DVD for 5.99 I went with G. 

    There was one more thing; I had it in my head to make heart-shaped Rice Crispy Treats. Pink. Why? I don’t have any idea, but I just felt determined to make them. So I tossed in a few boxes with a matching number of marshmallow bags, some pink dusting sugar and a box of “neon” food coloring which included a nice shade of not too bright pink.

(my supplies)

    Henry and I scooted home chatting about our long evening ahead. There was no school in the morning because of mid-winter break. So I got started melting and he sat down to write a letter. Now making Rice Crispy Treats when you’re on Weight Watchers is a tricky business. Especially, when you know you’re a snitcher of tid bits as I am so in order to insure my compliance to the motto “All Bites Count” I donned my blue surgical baking mask. This makes taking a little taste more difficult.

(pink marshmallow)

(my mold)

(pink krispies)
(success)

About midnight after a couple of batches I decided to take a break and get started on the movie basket. I’d gotten some red Easter Basket grass at Michaels and red polka dot ribbon. I had some ceramic popcorn bowls we never use and set them in for a little extra pizzazz. I had just set everything in the basket when Henry walked up.

“Mama, you know, brownie mix isn’t exactly a movie night thing. Maybe we could leave that out?” He said with a gleam in his eye.

“You might be right. Who’s going to bid on this thing if it causes them to do more work?”  He smiled at my answer and grabbed the box. I sent him upstairs to get the blow dryer when I had the whole thing wrapped up. Bewildered he returned blow dryer in hand.

“What are you going to do with this?” He looked at me as if I was from another planet.

“I’m going to seal the cellophane.” I explained turning it on. He watched in amazement as the cellophane began to shrink and seal around the basket.

(the finishing touches)

“You are the best mom ever!” He said wide-eyed stuffing a pink gooey heart-shaped Rice Crispy Treat in his mouth. I glanced at the clock, I thought of my mother - she'd always said Friday the thirteenth was a good day for witches. For a moment, I wondered how long Henry's innocent enthusiasm for simple things would last. How long would it be until I was the dumbest mother ever?  Whatever, today my son thinks I'm Olivia Walton, Carol Brady, Mrs. Victoria Barkley and Shirley Partridge all rolled into one. It's my lucky day.

February 8th All In The Family

(Black Jack Medal)

When we got off the plane in Las Vegas I realized this was the first time we were going to be all together as a family.  Tom was driving in with both Craig and Laura. The sun was shining but rain clouds loomed on the horizon. As we road the tram, Gordy, Henry's coach said, "Feeling the sun on my face,  I'm already having a good time."  

"It's supposed to rain." Henry said, "But at least we got this." Gordy chuckled. Then as Washingtonians do, he lifted his face, eyes closed, and let the sun warm him.

The Rudy's, one of our gymnastics team families, had arrived on Thursday and rented a car. Dave Rudy kindly collected us from baggage claim shuttling us to the Mandalay Bay. A pretty swanky hotel for my pocketbook, but it's one of Tom's clients so we got a suite deal. We arrived in the afternoon  with plenty of time to relax before meeting up with the rest of Henry’s team for dinner. Tom, Laura and Craig pulled into town just after we finished eating. We met back at the hotel for a little gambling, them, not me as I don’t have two pennies to throw away. As is Vegas, they were up, they were down, they were up, they were up? Laura was down a $100.00.

(Proud Papa -Tom- and Henry)

    The next morning was Henry’s meet. Unlike cheaper hotels there is no coffee pot in upscale joints. It was no never mind; we were up bright and early at the gym Starbuck’s in hand. I don’t know if it was the new trail mix, Craig and Laura being there or the excitement of seeing the kids from Victory Gymnastics, but Henry had a great meet. I stood by the pommel praying he wouldn’t fall off and then praying for an 11 but I almost fell over when a 13.2 appeared on the scoreboard. He’d gotten a disastrous 9 at Stanford after falling off. His total score at this meet was better than if you’d taken all his best scores on each apparatus from the previous meets he’s done this year.

He didn’t get but one medal on parallel bars, but none of us cared. His smile showed how proud he was of himself. Coach Ray, Henry's coach from Victory Gymnastics Academy in California, came up after the meet and hugged us all as he said, “Henry, he’s still doing pretty well.” Ray (Ruwei Jiang) is a man of few words. He is from China growing up in the Chinese gymnastics system. Taken as a young boy to one of the Olympic training camp, he and his friend, Li Ning, were numbers one and two as they grew up competing against each other. Sometimes Ray was one and sometimes he was two. Until Ray had a back injury ending his career. His friend went on to win many medals for China and in fact, was given the honor of lighting the torch at these last Beijing games. 

(Little "T", Sawyer, Parker and Henry)

(Cabryn is on pre-team at Victory Gymnastics Academy)

 (Cabryn with her ice cream cone)

            Later after we taken over a lunch buffet, we went our separate ways for a few hours.l, I realized I’d only had the one-cup of coffee and I was fading so Tom and I took naps while Henry took a 3-hour soak in the bathtub enjoying the decadence of a TV in the bathroom. Splashing around using a all the hotel lotions and potions, he emerged the ultimate prune.  “Mama" he said, " Ray saying I was still doing ok was better to me than winning the medal. ‘Cause you know Coach Ray.” My eyes got watery, because I do know Ray. Ray is not huggy although he hugs. His criticism comes in the form a look, a nod or a simple, “That not right.” And on occasion he might say “Are you some kind of noodle?” in his thick Chinese accent.

(Coach Ray of Victory Gymnastics Academy)

           In the evening, we as we prepared to go to the Winter Cup Challenge I told Tom I still needed a coffee. He said he’d get me one and meet me in the lobby, but when I arrived he had no coffee for me. “Sorry.” He said. “We didn’t have time Henry had to get some Orbit™” He explained pathetically as if sorry or didn’t get it was an option. You don’t explain to an addict. When we got to the meet Tom said he’d get me a coffee so I didn’t have to walk with my sore leg to the concession stand. But when he got back all he had was his beer. “Sorry” he said again “I forgot.” Are you kidding me? I glared. Sheepishly, he went to the concession stand again. It took forever. I realized he must have stood there drinking another beer before coming back with my lukewarm coffee-water in the Styrofoam cup. His life was now at risk. And he knew it.

(Tom and my long-awaited coffee)

(watching the action)

Caffeine infused, I could enjoy the meet. The Winter Cup is where they select the National Team. The Rudy’s and the Davis’ the other families traveling with us were so close to the rings they were covered in chalk dust. We opted for the balcony, so Henry and the Victory Boys could wrestle and hangout.

(Kyndal and little sister Cabryn)

(Henry and Cabryn)

(Cabryn and Henry - my daughter-in-law?)

    After the meet, the new National Team which included David Sender, Sho Nakamori, and four Olympians all signed autographs. Henry went through the line chatting with his idols telling Sho he judged him at Stanford. I praised David Sender for being such a good role model I think he is. When one of the other guys started giving Sender a little bit of heat saying, “Stanford guys aren’t liked very much around here.” At that David turned and said, “Hey! I’m a role model.”(Sho Nakamori signs for the kids)

Parker spent the night in our room as he and Henry played, laughed and watched TV eating pretzels and drinking chocolate milk. They are the new odd couple. Parker is flexible Henry is not. Henry is a slob Parker is not. Parker is sensible Henry is not. Henry is impulsive Parker is not. Henry is wild Parker is not. They really don’t have anything in common except gymnastics and the fact that they really enjoy each other, make each other laugh and always have a good time.

(Henry stained and a mess - shoes untied - hair askew & Parker neat and clean in his button down - hasn't had a stain in elementary school)

(Parker and Henry?- Or is it Felix and Oscar? Henry asked Parker to have a chocolate mustache - Parker responded "No. I'm clean cut.")

In the morning, Tom dressed first thing. “Where are you going?” I asked sleepily opening my eyes to the sunshine streaming in.

“I’m going to Starbucks to redeem myself and get you a great big cup of coffee.” He said. He did love me. I smiled. I blew dry my new layers sipping my coffee, packed and told the boys to check on Craig and Laura who were moving kind of slow after their night of daiquiris. As we’re scurrying around to get to the level 5 meet, Tom said we should take a load of baggage to the car. I didn’t really want to walk all the way to the car again as my leg is still throbbing and I’ve done a lot of walking in the last couple of days. I suggested we take the bags to the lobby and check out. Then I’d wait with the bags while he pulled the car up to the front of the hotel. Tom did not like this idea. Do I know why? No. But he didn’t and started telling me it didn’t make any sense but if I wanted to make a big pile of bags in the middle Mandalay Bay lobby then fine we’d do it that way. Well a throbbing leg and a short temper prompted me to storm out of the room and go down to the lobby. I called my sister,

“I just got in a fight with Tom, stormed out of the room for emphasis because he was making fun of me. The only problem is, I left my coffee in the room and my leg hurts too much to go over to the Starbucks.”

“That was definitely poor planning.”

“I know.” Just then I heard the elevator doors ding. And there was Tom with my coffee. "You forgot your coffee." We checked out and he pulled the car around.

(Laura, Craig, Henry, Tom and me - no I didn't eat the McDonalds, I'm on Weight Watchers™)

(Sawyer winning his medals after the meet)

(Trey Davis, Henry and Austin Rudy - The Mount Baker Boys)

(Laura, Henry & Craig)

(Laura, Kevin and Trey Davis and Mt. Baker Gymnastics' Coach Gordy Bylin!)

(having fun after the meet)

In general, we got to catch up with old friends, make some new ones and travel with our gym to a fabulous meet. The weekend came to an end, when Tom dropped us off at the airport with Craig and Laura. As they drove away headed back to Southern California Henry turned and said wistfully,  “You know, I love everyone in that car.”

February 6th Quantum Leap

 (evening on State 9)

I knew we were scheduled to leave for Las Vegas, we go every year, but when Henry’s coach asked me on Wednesday night what time the flight was on Friday morning, I was taken aback I didn’t know the answer. He laughed “You really are taking one day at a time Denise.” I suppose I am. I’ve been wrapped up in my own physical pain.

Everything I do is much more difficult. I now choose the drive-thru at Starbucks™. When it came time for Henry’s cornet lesson, I anxiously let Henry walk around Western Washington University getting himself a snack in the student union from the friendly girl with all the curls who’s usually there just before his lesson. I knew he knew the way to the Performing Art Center and like a rat in a maze he could find his way to the office where Kevin would be waiting. Nonetheless I sat in the parking lot for forty-five minutes practically holding my breath until he re-emerged from behind the bright orange abstract sculpture.  As he walked toward me holding his cornet case wondered if people thought he was some kind of Doogie Houser.

Egg production, and all the related issues have also been an absorbing distraction. The other morning Matilda somehow made a break for it and before Alexis knew it, she’d built a nest in the wooded area behind the dog run, within a foot of the fence. She camouflaged herself into a prickly bush. Alexis and I theorized she’d be OK as nothing was going to come that close to Irish. He’d protect her. She sat half the day on the nest with Irish watching over her, but at the end of the day she still hadn’t laid an egg. Under different circumstances this disappointing performance might be considered a “goose egg”. Clara too is a bit behind. She was scheduled to lay an egg on Wednesday, but held out until Thursday. The dog pen’s we’re going to use to separate the pairs are now in the barn ready to go. I’ve put a lot of thought into the pairing of the birds. I suspect Lloyd and Quackmire the two dominant ganders probably selected the two perfect females. I’ve seen Alfred my gimpy gander with Matilda, the most incorrect female and that would leave Cleveland with Ruthie. Hence the term pecking order.

  (Wayne skipping stones at the pond)

The other consuming thing going on is Wayne giving notice. He’s decided to move out and move on. We’re going to be sad to see him leave, but it’s time he too spread his wings. He’s got a lot of great ideas for the future and is ready to go forward with his life. The time of healing on the farm is over. A bittersweet goodbye as he leaves and Henry and I begin to wonder who will come into our lives next?

Thursday on the way to gymnastics I finally came to terms with the idea I was catching a plane in the morning. So I dropped Henry off went to the beauty supply and picked up a tube of hair color. I wasn’t going anywhere looking like the old grey mare. Walking out of the store a sign across the parking lot caught my eye, “Walk-ins Welcome”. With Oprah’s advice to “put yourself back on the list” in the forefront of my mind I got in my car and drove the hundred feet to the beauty salon and limped in. I’ve never been a walk-in in my life, but I stood there bravely telling Taylor, the dark-haired girl with the slick bob, seated at the desk I needed help, I wanted to ditch the farm girl look.

I was nervous sitting in the chair pulling out my clip as my hair fell around my shoulders in curls still smelling strongly of my conditioner. It’s funny how your hair holds onto that smell when it’s up all day. She stood behind me softly pulling my hair up and letting it fall. I explained exactly what I wanted. Exactly. I told her how much I wanted off the back and how I wanted the layers in the front. I even pointed to where I wanted the layers to start.  I wondered if she thought I was demanding, but I didn’t want there to be any miscommunication.

Every time I go to someone new for a hair cut I think of THE haircut that has defined me. It’s kind of silly, but it has stayed with me all these years. I was just five years-old and had very long hair, a little girl badge of honor. I was going to go to start kindergarten in a few days and so my mother had taken me shopping. We went to Standard Brand’s to get my new shoes and to a little shop for some twirly dresses, because girls weren’t allowed to wear pants at my school back then.

While we were out she decided I should get a trim and maybe bangs. So she took me over to a hair salon for kids on Laurel Canyon and Ventura Blvd – the northwest corner right near the fish market where you could watch the fish swim around in tanks. We walked in to the shop painted with clowns and balloons. I climbed up in the big chair. My mother walked over with me while the man wrapped the smock around me and fastened it at the neck. I don’t what she said, but she spoke to him and took a seat by the window soon absorbed in a magazine. I sat looking in the mirror with the fidgety man behind me. Looking at me in the mirror he leaned over and said very quietly. “Do you want your hair cut? Yes or No?” I thought this strange. Why was he asking me this when I obviously was in the chair? I wanted my mother, but extremely shy and intimidated by adults I was frozen. “Yes or No?” He asked again more adamantly. My mother didn’t look up. He was strange for an adult not like the ones I was used to.  He looked at me differently and moved kind of like a bird, fast and quick.

“Yes?” I answered hesitantly. With that he took his scissors and cut my hair to my temple. Tears rolled down my cheeks as he cut and cut and cut. My mother came running over asking him what he was doing in a shrill voice, but it was too late the damage was done. I looked horrible. My grandfather Karl, who was visiting for part of the summer from Wisconsin, suggested I could wear my jacket and pull up my hood but my grandmother Irene pointed out it was August in the Valley. I on the other hand did not dismiss the suggestion so readily and wore my purple fuzzy coat  with the white trim most of the time. The one relief was no one pretended. I heard a lot of “It’ll grow out in no time.” And not even one “It’s kinda cute”.  I overheard, my mother saying to her friend Adele on the phone, “And she’s starting her first day at Miss Mary’s next week.”

Years later, my mother told me it was in the paper, the man had a nervous breakdown and closed the shop. I was not his only victim. I never could muster any sympathy for him but wondered if some of the other girls might want to form a support group.  And nutty as it sounds, every time I sit in a chair and have the smock wrapped around me, I travel back in time like an episode of Quantum Leap for just a moment.

Taylor did a great job. When she flat ironed my new layers I felt different, not too different, but like Loreal™ commercial “because I’m worth it”. I was sure the goats wouldn’t recognize me, just as sure as I was Tom wouldn’t notice. Oh well, I didn’t do it for him, he was a Lucky Strike Extra. I strode out of the shop as well as I could with a bum leg and made my way over to Old Navy. I purchased a navy floral $12.99 top as a little reward per my Weight Watchers™ recent 5 lb. loss.(Me in my new red shirt)

“This makes me look like I’m wearing wallpaper doesn’t it.” I said to the fitting room attendant. Grilling her as if she were a witness for the prosecution.

“Uhhh no, No I like it. “ I looked at her steadily. “Do you feel like you’re wearing wallpaper she countered?” A smooth customer this one, I decided to get it, the price was right, but I remained somewhat skeptical.

 (Henry's orange suitcase - of course, Lisa's pink striped pajamas I bought her for Christmas last year and since borrowed -thinking I might never return and my new wallpaper blouse)

The rest of the evening was laundry, packing, coloring my hair and in general getting ready for the flight. I hadn’t done a thing before hand so I was up more than half the night. By the next morning, I could barely open my eyes, but I knew I had to hop to it. I poured a cup of coffee, put on my red shirt for National Wear Red Day and sprang into gear. We arrived at the airport got to the gate and finally took our seats. As I listened to the safety instructions and watched the flight attendant’s hand signals I thought of my old roommate, Shannon, she used to do the hand signals after a couple of margaritas.

I heard the part about your seat as a flotation device. Thought of my weak and throbbing leg and for the first time ever, I wondered if they’d have to leave me behind. At this rate Henry might have to put my mask on after he secured his. I didn’t like my thought process. Clearly, I needed another cup of coffee. 

 (my make up bag and new make up)

 

February 5th Dog Day Afternoon

(A hay bale is great fun for Bruno (1) and Viviana Jones (8 years-old)

(Bruno likes hide 'n' seek)

(Bruno plans his ambush)

(Vivian is not amused - must click on this picture to see her doing her "Damien Omen II" impression - )

(keeping me company while I pack for Las Vegas - going to another gymnastics competition this weekend)

February 3rd The Egg & I

  (Clara)

Clara, Clara, Clara, that’s all Henry and I talked about on the way to school. We discussed egg production and whether laying an egg hurt. We wondered if she honked when it came out or did something else. Henry had wanted to go out and see if she was sitting on her nest today, but we had to do all the morning chores, feeding the dogs, collecting the trumpet and picking up the dead bat Irish was using as a Frisbee™.

            “Mom, I’m worried she’s not going to take the egg. You know you used your robe. Now it smells like dog.”

            “Henry, she’s so used to us and the dogs, I don’t think she’s going to freak out. She’s far from wild.”

            “What are we going to do if she doesn’t sit on the egg?” He looked at me hopefully.

            “We’re not getting an incubator. We’d have to turn them and do all sorts of things, and frankly. If one egg doesn’t hatch, then one egg doesn’t hatch.”

            “You’re right. She’s supposed to have about ten right?”

(sunny snow cap with a layer of clouds while the mountain is shrouded in shadow - and people wonder why I don't mind the commute)

    Yes, and if all the girls lay, we’ll have forty goslings. I don’t have earplugs for that kind of noise. I don’t want to be the crazy goose lady of Mosquito Lake Road. “ I stated forcefully.

            “Mama?” He said in his con-artist-adorable-child-you-can’t-refuse-me-voice.

            “Yes?” I asked warily.

            “Can we keep one?” He looked at me with the boo-boo lip protruding, his eyes wide and watery leaning toward the car heater trying to absorb the heat. “Just one?”

            “Henry, we talked about this. We’re selling the goslings. We have eight snuggly geese.” Just then the phone rang. It was my dad confirming breakfast.

            “Lisa’s bringing Quinn. She has an orthodontist appointment she has to go to at 9:45AM so she’s not going to school first. ” He informed me. “So see you at Skylarks” he said and hung-up.

            “Henry, Grandpa's, leaving tomorrow for France and chances are he isn’t coming back for a year. Do you want to be late for school and come to breakfast with me? Lisa and Quinn are coming by, Lisa has to take Quinn to an orthodontist appointment so they can't stay for long.” I said as we sat at a stoplight.

            “Oh yeah, Quinn’s getting her braces off today! Uhh no, I saw Grandpa this weekend we went on a walk and if I went I’d miss band class. I think Grandpa would tell me I should go to band.” He said with surprising maturity.

("Mom, if I was a dog, I'd want Grandpa to be my owner. I'd always get treats" - Henry)

                                                            ***

(Grandpa Horn at his place in Bellingham)

             Clara was once again the topic of conversation at breakfast. “What are you going to do with these goslings?” Lisa asked. I knew she was expecting to chide me for keeping them. Or at least that’s what I thought.

“Some of them are pre-sold to a Doctor Trish Coffey. She’s been waiting for some goslings. She found me through Doctor Tom Walker. You see I have four good males and two good females. So I really don’t have to worry who the father is as long as the mother is Mabel or Clara.” I informed the table.

            “What the hell is a good goose?” My father demanded.

            “Pink bill, pink feet, correct eye color. Strong normal wings, with the appropriate markings and not too heavy.” I said as though I was a breeder of rare heritage Cotton Patch Geese.

            "Well, for Christsake it sound's it's a moral judgment."

            "She mean's they're flawed for the breed standard." Lisa added for clarification.

            “Denise! You have to keep one! You have to! You have to! Just one! A little fluff ball.” Quinn squealed.

            “Nope. I’m not keeping any geese Quinn. We have enough. One will mean two and then I have ten geese.”

            “And then she’ll be the crazy goose lady.” My psychic-twin chimed in.

            “Your mother’s right.”  I confirmed.

            After that, Lisa hustled off with Quinn, my dad and I ate our breakfast, chatted paid the bill and hugged good-bye.

(enjoying one last cup)

            “Be safe Daddy” I eeked out.

            “Ahh, I’ll email, it’ll be like I never left.” He said and turned and walked away.

(the girls along with Lloyd and Cleveland in the garden- Quackmire and Alfred decided to stay out)

            When I got home I saw Alexis had penned up all the girls in the flower garden as we discussed.  I was worried others might start building nests and we wouldn’t be able to find them. I knew the girls would be there, but I was surprised Clara was with them. I hobbled over using a branch I’d found as my farm cane. I wanted to chat with him about Clara and her egg. I had to know what was going on. Alexis opened the door as I teetered through my branch slipping on the floor. I made my way to a chair and he pointed to Clara’s egg on the table.

(my makeshift farm cane)

            “She just walked away from her nest this morning. She did bury the egg under the straw and went out with everyone else. So I brought it in here. I couldn’t reach you and I didn’t know what else to do.”

            “I’ve got a call into Tom Walker and an email so I’m sure we’ll hear soon.” We chatted some more about our plans for the geese. We decided to separate the girls further putting the “good girls” Clara and Mabel in one garden and the “bad girls” Ruthie and Matilda in the other so we didn’t have egg confusion. “Henry and I were talking on the way to school wondering what it might have been like when she laid the egg. You know, was she like a chicken squawking or honking of what?” I repeated.

            “I saw her lay the egg.” Alexis said. “She did it while I was starting to feed last night.”

            “You saw her, did she do anything?” I asked in amazement.

            “Well, she didn’t make any noise, but I did see some real booty action.” Alexis said with a smile as he helped me make my way down his steps. We agree he’d put the egg back this evening and we’d put dog carriers in the goose pen in case some of the other ladies needed to nest.

            When I got back in the house I checked my messages hoping Tom Walker had called. Nothing. The phone rang. Wrong Tom, well it was the right Tom, my Tom, but well anyway it was Pea.

            “I’m practically passing out cigars here at the office. We’re all excited. How big is it?” He said in a rush.

            “Well, I wouldn’t pass them out just yet. She’s not sitting on the nest. It is bigger than a chicken egg.”

(chicken egg and Clara's)

            “She’s not? Do you think the egg smelled like dog?” He accused.

            “That’s what Henry said. He wants to smear some of her poop on the egg to recapture her smell.” I relayed.

            “Might work, worth a try.” Tom concurred.

            “Lisa says some birds lay all their eggs and then sit on them so they hatch all at the same time. Kind of like getting everything ready and keeping it hot for Christmas Dinner. Hmm perhaps not the best analogy, but anyway I have a call in to Trish Coffey too about how many birds she wants.”

            “Are we going to keep one?” He asked expectedly.

            “That’s what Henry and Quinn want. You too?” I half asked, as I knew the answer.

            “Well yeah, actually we need a pair don’t we. I mean c’mon.”

            “You think I don’t want another fluff ball? But you know they’re goslings for about ten minutes. The darn things double in size while you blink. Then they’re geese and do we really need another pair of geese? And furthermore, they won’t be hand raised and so they might not be as snuggly.” I rationally pointed out.

            “We’ll see.” He said with a tone.

            I drove to pick Henry up and take him to the Fairhaven Barber Shop. We were late for his appointment so we said we’d come back in an hour. Seeing Lisa’s car a few spaces down we called to find out where she was. Turns out she, my dad and Annie were having coffee and the newly-naked-tooth Quinn was having ice cream over at Village Books. This is a small town. Naturally, we joined them for one last hurrah before Henry’s clipping. We sipped double shot non-fat latte's as we looked out on Bellingham Bay. The sun was shining and it felt warm through the window. Henry and Quinn licked their ice cream cones before they split a giant brownie. I wondered how many points they were consuming laughing to myself as I saw Quinn absently take her finger and rub it back and forth over her front teeth like a toothbrush. I guess she just liked the feel of her smooth pearly whites.

(Grandpa Horn, Quinn and her teeth and Henry)

            Dr. Walker finally called just after I dropped off Henry at gymnastics and right before my Weight Watcher meeting. I was relieved to hear his voice. The goose guru was going to impart his knowledge. He told me a myriad of information. It seems the geese have been off to the pond because they mate in water. They could have mated in the baby pond but it was frozen. Geese lay eggs every other day and won’t sit the nest until all the eggs are laid and then the “sit” is for thirty days. Clara should lay nine to eleven eggs. He did have one who laid fourteen but this was highly unusual. I was right to separate her out and keep her with Lloyd. He praised us for keeping the girls penned in, as we would truly be on an egg hunt if we didn’t take precautions. He suggested that if the temperatures dipped below freezing that we take the eggs inside and leave fool-her eggs. He had wooden ones, but chicken eggs would do. Then when she’s laid all the eggs and is sitting we should replace them. In the meantime we should keep the eggs cool not warm. He reassured me the eggs were hardy and not to worry. I thanked him and told him I would no doubt call again. He gave me his cell.

            My first call was to Alexis, as he needed to know how to handle the nursery, then Tom, because he was calling every twenty minutes. Finally, I called Lisa and relayed what I’d been told.

               “So they need water?” She asked in her analytical science voice.

“Yes, I guess they could have used the baby pool, but it was frozen.”

“Frozen water, huh now that’s a birth control you don’t hear about much.” I laughed. She was a doctor, but she was my sister.

“I guess, I’ll need those dog pens back I loaned you, the ones I used for the geese when they were little. I’m going to need to separate all the pairs soon.”

“OK I’ll get them and give them to you tomorrow. Hey do you still have the oyster shells you got for Alfred?”

“Oh yeah, they said they were for laying geese. I’d forgotten.”

“They’re excellent for egg production. So put some out there.” She insisted. Another farm first for me, I was now giving pre-natal care to geese.

(Henry with the oyster shells)

(Miracle and the goats want to know what's happening and why we woke them up)

  (Henry pouring oyster shells)     

    (Lloyd protecting his family)

            

February 2nd The Honeymooners

(Lloyd at the front door)

Lloyd and I have always been close. He’s the one to sit right next to me when I’m doing a project. The one who never leaves my side. In fact, the other day when I was on the phone, I heard a rat-a-tat-tat at the door. And when I opened it I was completely surprised to see Lloyd had come to pay me a call. Climbing up the steps of the porch and waddling across to the floor he’d tried to eat the door. I was flattered and tempted to let my little buddy in, but he has absolutely no poop control, hence the expression “ shit through a goose”, not to mention the cat’s reaction. I didn’t think it was a precedent I wanted to set. The next thing you know, Miracle will be taking a nap on the sofa. How that differs much from Irish in reality I’m not sure, but my instincts and my sister’s voice in my head said “No Denise.”  I laughed at the thought of Emmett he might have had a breakdown if he saw Lloyd in the house. After all, the ultimate humiliation for a cat must be being chased by a bird.

(Lloyd takes his best shot)

(geese having fun at the pond)

(our Lloyd)

(Lloyd is independent now, but still loves me)

(Lloyd a real cutie)

I was worried for a while Lloyd was disassociating with the gaggle.  However, with his recent burst of independence I’ve relaxed. He’s been attentive and fiercely protective of them.  Of course, after the leech incident on his eye, he’s back in my thoughts front and center.

Henry went out today to help Alexis with the geese, put them away and check for leeches. Before he went out he was wondering if there was some way Lisa could tell if the leech had caused damage to Lloyd’s eye. I’d told him I’d asked a similar question and she said she really didn’t cover goose vision and the effects of leeches in vet school. Smart-ass.  But she did say she didn’t think it would have caused any real damage. However, when Henry came running in the house out of breath I was a little alarmed.

“Mama, it’s the geese!” He came running up the stairs to my bedroom.

“What now?” I asked on the phone with Tom.

“There’s a nest, Clara’s made a nest and she and Lloyd won’t come in the barn.”

“Where’s the nest?” I asked completely shocked. Things were suddenly happening so fast. I’d just gotten used to the idea they were growing up and suddenly I’m a grandmother.

“Underneath the Kubota barn near the silo.” Henry explained.

“Well, we’ve got to move her, she can’t stay out there. She won’t make it nor will her eggs. Has she laid any eggs?” I asked doubtfully. I’d seen them earlier waddling around. Certainly, this was just the nesting stage. I hung up  grabbed a crutch starting to make my way down the stairs. “Mama, you don’t have to go outside. Alexis and I can handle it.”

“Do you think I’m going to miss this? You’re kidding right. I need to see Clara and the proud papa.” I insisted as I moved from one stair to another. With Henry acting as my human crutch, I slowly made my way across the yard to Clara.  There she was looking demure and motherly just like in a picture book. She gazed up at us for a while and I reached down to pet her. Then she went back to finishing her nest pulling weeds around her. She was going to be a mama. Lloyd had excellent taste, she is a Cotton Patch beauty. Her bill a soft petal pink, just like her feet with just a hint of a white surrounding her bill. Her wings were lovely and strong.

(Clara nests)

(Alexis and Papa)

Alexis prepared the the little workroom in the barn, the one formerly inhabited by the frog who lived on the refrigerator door, with straw, food and water. I tried to pick her up forgetting my injury for a moment and then stopped. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t straighten up. But in the process, I disturbed her enough for her to stand up. We were all stunned to actually find – an egg. Spring it seems is coming fast and furious; so much for Punxatawny Phil. Alexis carried her safely to the barn while I carefully picked up the warm egg in my flannel robe.

(Clara in her new nest with her egg)

(Miracle watches) 

(The goats eat non-plussed by the event)

(Henry helps secure the gate for Lloyd and Clara and the baby)

(Clara not warming up to her egg right away)

We took a small gate we had and propped it up so the two lovebirds were tucked in for the night together in the Honeymoon Suite.

Clara didn’t go right over and sit on the egg, which really upset Henry who was worried she was going to reject it now that we’d moved her and the egg.

“I bet she’ll settle down, once we turn out the lights and leave the barn.” I said reassuringly.

“I hope so.” Henry said doubtfully. I did too, as Templeton and his rotten goose egg antics came to mind.

February 1st Twist & Shout

 (you never know what's coming)

The last twenty-four hours have been a doozey. The weekend started with Henry forgetting to fix his hair, put in his contacts, bring his gym bag with his grips and white socks for the meet. I was completely annoyed, but I guess I have to take some responsibility for not checking more thoroughly. As one of my friends said, “He’s only eleven” an excuse that completely annoyed me. I don’t know maybe she’s right. Which annoys me all the more. I think Henry should be able to brush his teeth in the morning, but perhaps my expectations are too high.

Left to his own devices he believes cleaning his room means stuffing everything either under the bed or in the closet. And honestly, I have to admit I’m not a shining example. Oh I can clean, but I hate routine. As everyone knows.

 (a little blurry - Jesse Keltner and Henry)

Anyway, the meet was fairly innocuous, except for Henry’s pommel score. He seems to have finally figured out what he was doing wrong and got his highest score yet. Nothing to write home about, but he and I were thrilled. As was Tom who insisted I call after every event. It was Mike’s birthday and although neither one of us was feeling flush, he came to the meet so we could sit in the stands for 3 hours, have coffee watch Henry and spend some time together.

 (Mike with the new Spring fashions)

            Henry and I talked most the way home about trying to get a new routine in our lives. We agreed baby steps were the way to go if we were going to make any long lasting changes.

Still chatting about midnight when we went to bed, Henry slept in my room with Irish, Vivian, Luther, Emmett, Bruno and Alvin. Only Katie-Scarlet and Deli remained downstairs snuggled up in the family room. We lay there talking when I heard a noise outside. Irish and Bruno heard it too as they came unwrapped. Barking and searching for the source of the noise they ran downstairs to the sunroom to see outside. I opened my window and peered out into the darkness at the pasture expecting to see a raccoon. The cows were stirring and gave a moo here and there. I waited as the dogs barked. Nothing moved. I surveyed the shadows. Nothing. So I closed the window and went back to bed yelling to Irish everything was OK.  Bruno quieted down without too much convincing, but Irish kept going. Suddenly, I heard him scream and yelp. Fearing he’d hurt himself, I flew down the stairs in my fuzzy socks. Note to self, do not attempt sudden movements on stairs in fuzzy socks. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I turned my leg and felt a pop in my right calf. The pain was immense spreading through my leg as I called out and I fell against the wall. Adrenaline flowing I kept going to Irish’s aid. He can’t talk, so I’ll never know exactly what happened.

 (my fuzzy socks Annie gave me for Christmas a couple of years ago - great for cold winter nights_

Irish and I both hobbled up the stairs to an anxious Henry. I could barely breathe. Henry kept firing off questions asking me if I was all right, but I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t put my foot down. So Henry just held my hand while I  stood next to the bed for a long time trying to manage the pain. Slowly I crawled into bed. Henry has the gift of gab and immediate sleep, just like his father who can fall asleep in mid-sentence. It must be a male trait, because I once dated a guy who could fall asleep during a fraternity party and Mike has actually started snoring while I’m on the phone with him. Perhaps this is more a commentary on my company than their need for rest, I’m not sure.

I lay there for a long time struggling with the pain, before I called anyone. First, I called Tom, but he was very sleepy. I knew I couldn’t call Lisa because she was going skiing in the morning. Finally, I called Mike. I knew he’d be awake and of course, he was. He suggested I take some Advil™; a reasonable suggestion if I could walk. Next, he suggested I wake Henry. I laughed a strained laugh “have you forgotten the USC marching band could walk through his room and he wouldn’t wake up.”

“Just give it a try you need the medication.” He insisted. So I did as I was told. I shook him and I yelled his name. I pinched him and I almost pushed him out of the bed. But he’s fallen off a bunk bed and not woken up so I didn’t see the point. Mike suggested water in his face, but I’d forgotten to put a glass by my bedside.

“Mike, even if he gets up and some how makes it down stairs to get the Advil™ I think he’ll just lie down on the floor and that will be the last I see of our hero.”

“You’re probably right."So I did without the medication, propped my leg up on a pillow to keep it elevated and waited for sleep; wondering how this was going to work. How was I going to clean out the barn in the morning? I knew I wasn’t going  to clean out the barn in the morning. I knew I wasn’t gong to be able to move for days, maybe weeks.

When I woke up, the pain had subsided some, but not a lot. I couldn’t put any weight on it. Henry redeemed himself with a smile and a hot cup of coffee “For the Mama” He said.

He went to the barn and fed the animals letting the geese out, but when he got back he was frantic. “Something’s wrong with the geese. Cleveland’s bleeding and it looks like Lloyd is missing his eye.”

“What? I can’t come down there. Are you sure?”

“I’ll take a picture.” He came back with the camera “I think I was hallucinating about Lloyd, he looks ok after all.” I looked at the pictures and made the presumption the geese might be fighting as they were getting increasingly aggressive due to the mating season. As any woman can tell you, testosterone is always trouble. I decided to put a call in to Tom Walker on how to handle them.

 (bloody Cleveland)

My dad drove out from town with an ace bandage and a microwaveable heating pad.  The heat was fantastic. I don’t think I’ve had it off my leg for ten minutes since I got it.  I just yell, “HENNNNNNRyyyyyy” and he comes a hippity-hopping up the stairs. He said he thinks he might be turning into Norman Bates because I’m so demanding. This cultural education is coming back to bite me in the Miracle.

 (I love this)

As for the barn, Alexis told me he’d take care of everything. He’d put away the geese and feed the animals until further notice. He instructed me to say thank you and not to argue and not to remind him and not to worry. This I find is a challenge for me. It is hard for me to accept help. I feel guilty needing people to take care of me.  I realize at the moment, I have no choice. Perhaps this is a lesson I’m meant to learn.

The remainder of the day was spent watching television. It is Super Bowl Sunday, but I only briefly watched the game. Mostly, I caught up on some “All My Children” and a couple of “Crusoe” with Henry.

I saw Alexis make his way to the barn as promised. A few moments later he was at the door beckoning Henry, something about the geese. The next thing I know Henry and Alexis are at the window with Lloyd in their arms. I thought they just wanted him to cheer me up, when I heard something about him not having an eye again or it was swollen. I couldn’t catch everything as I struggled off the sofa to the window on Mike’s old crutches he’d left in the garage. Just as I got to them, they both took a terrified gasp.  “It fell off!” Alexis said.

(some of the wallpaper I haven't gotten rid of yet and Mike's crutches)

“His eye fell off?” Henry asked.

“I don’t know.” Alexis answered.  I was completely confused trying to look Lloyd in the face. Was he missing an eye? Was he blind?

“It’s moving!” Henry yelled “Look it’s moving.”

“His eye?” Alexis questioned. “The eye is moving?”

“It’s not an eye, it’s a parasite.” Henry said. “I think it’s a leech. Look his eye is there, but it’s all bloody.” Sure enough Henry was right. The leech had completely covered Lloyd’s eye and was sucking him dry

I made my way to the kitchen as quickly as I could and got a plastic bag to put it in. “Maybe we should show it to Lisa.” I said.

(Lisa's leech specimen)

“Yeah, she loves all that gross stuff.” Henry concurred.

“I guess, he got it at the pond.” I figured.

“Yep. We’ll just have to start checking them before we put them away.” Alexis said.

“That must have been what I saw this morning. I’m glad I’m not crazy.” We both just looked at him.

“Ok, so I’m crazy, just not because of that.” Henry stated.

“You go back to the sofa Denise. I got things covered.” Alexis reminded me as he walked away.

“Leeches! Yuck.” I said.

“Can I squish it?” Henry asked with an eleven-year-old gleam in his eye.

“No!” I said emphatically.

“You know they still use leeches in medicine.” Henry countered "7 kinds are used in medicine."

“I didn't know you were a leech aficionado. I know they're useful. Ducks eat 'em. But they didn’t do much for George Washington.” I said flatly. "He would have recovered from his illness. He only bled to death only because of leeches."

"That sucks." Henry smirked.