As The Butter Churns

August 10th When It Rains

(Henry goes William Tell on a rotten round bale)

    We had many plans, we didn’t do this weekend. We were going to go to a
Civil war re-enactment at Hovander Park and to a Blues jamboree at the Deming Logging Show grounds, but it rained. Every time I mentioned going somewhere, the kids looked at me incredulously from the sofa wrapped in blankets still in their pajamas as the Olympics blared non-stop from the television. Rain doesn’t generally stop us, but it rained as hard as I’ve ever seen. Loud pounding rain that punished my metal barn roof seams creating drips and drabs all over my hay, which causes all sorts of rot.

(Irish makes sure Bruno doesn't steel his thunder)

   So the kids and I spent most of our time indoors playing Clue™ and Pictionary™ while we made Brown Sugar Peach ice cream (no one liked the chunks of peach) and tried our hand at Banana(Kimona learned pureeing doesn't mean squishing with your hands). None of us liked either as much as the Pumpkin Pie ice cream. Kimona is determined to try the Banana Maple recipe she saw in Hobby Farm™ magazine and she keeps muttering things like “Do you have a vanilla bean? Is heavy cream the same as whipping cream?”
(Sam after target practice)
    We did do a couple of things that marked the weekend. I spoke to my friend Russ who grew up on a farm in Ohio and he gave me tips on sheep and pigs (just in case).

    We mixed the goats, sheep and Miracle together. The goats it turns out are bullies. Rachel was constantly rearing up trying to establish her royalty and the goats, like the children stare blankly back wondering if she realizes they’re sheep. Miracle chased them around, but stopped every time I caught her. I’d yell “What do you think you’re doing?” and she’d come to an abrupt halt, put her head down and peer over at me. Guilty. I know this look. This is the same look I get from Henry when I ask him if he’s cleaned the cat box.
(Kimona covered more in cement than the walkway)

    Wayne came over and worked on the attic, taping seams, mudding and sanding. Kimona and I did some cement in the momentsbetween deluges while Sam practiced shooting and Henry honed his archery skills. We even did some laundry.
(Lloyd once again tries a taste of the cement - I have to once again rinse his mouth out in the baby pool before it hardens)

 

    As I was going to sleep, I noticed I hadn’t seen Alvin and Scarlett in some time. I put food in their dishes and waited. Only Emmett arrived on the scene. I went looking for them, but didn’t see them anywhere. I listened and heard the tiniest faintest mew. I followed the sound up into the attic. I looked around but neither cat was in view. I called their names and stood there listening, wondering where they could be. I heard the mew again. It was coming behind a small attic door that Wayne had screwed shut. They were entombed Indiana Jones style. I went and found a screw gun and opened the door. The noise must have freaked them out because they were nowhere to be seen. I propped the door open and went back to bed. Waiting. Suddenly, there they were on top of my dresser eating hungrily. Safe.
(kitty tomb)

    I tried impossibly to find a place to put my foot, to get comfortable, but it was no use. Henry is sleeping in my bed as Sam is in his. We also have to make room for a disgruntled Vivian a shivering Luther an angry Emmett (seriously annoyed at the arrival of Bruno, the rat-sized dog) and a snuggly Bruno under the covers. Deli is sleeping with Kimona and Irish is the only one currently acting like a dog sleeping on a dog bed. I lay in bed positioned like a pretzel listening to the rain as I thought about the men’s Olympic relay team beating the French. I wondered how that was going over in Paris. "Smash the Americans" huh? Au contraire mon ami.

February 14th I Will Survive

Tom's Valentine's Day Card to Henry

I don’t put too much stock in Valentine’s Day anymore, but then again it’s nice to get a valentine. I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, my heart is not broken, but I did inform my child, that Mother’s Day is three months away and I expect to get a handmade card. He said he understood and that he’d make one in April, but he’s sure he’s going to lose it by May. Devil Child. As far as Tom goes, he’s not really the Valentine-type anymore, he has given me plenty of sunflowers and wonderful handmade valentines, but we had the biggest fight in the history of our relationship on a Valentine’s Day many, many years ago and we’ve never looked forward to it since.

    Today wasn’t the best day not because of Valentine’s mind you, but I just don’t feel terrific I’m fighting a cold. My head is pounding, my eyes hurt and I just don’t want to move much. I’d say I had a hangover; only you can’t get a hangover from hibiscus tea. The goats, cows, dogs and donkey don’t care at all how I feel. They want what they want and that’s it. The cats are much more sympathetic, they seem to want to lure me back into bed. Emmett and Alvin just purr inviting me to join them.

    Henry got sent home for his mild concussion. He’s dizzy and needs more rest. I might be doubtful about the validity of this claim; however he missed the ONLY party of the year in his class by leaving and I know he was looking forward to it.

    I must have an angel watching out for me, because on the way home I stopped despite my ailments and my reluctance and got a container full of diesel for the tractor. I didn’t think we’d need it until the weekend, but I did it anyway. And good thing I did, because when I got home I found the boys in the pasture needed a round bale of hay. Their feeder was barren and so was the tank of the tractor. I might mention I really didn’t want to go out there and move that bale, but that was the way it was. Those boys depended on me and they were moo-ooing up a storm when they saw me.

    Luckily, Mike, Henry and I can get a bale loaded onto the makeshift sled pretty easily now. We’ve got our technique all worked out; everyone knows his place so we can tip the 700lb bale.  We make the tractor do most of the work. It doesn’t take long; however, we lack style points. We must look ridiculous struggling with the plastic wrap, Mike in his slacks and me in my miner’s light while Henry crawls around on the bale like a cute little monkey, well, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn would be mighty disappointed in us. We’ll have to work on that.

    Dan Cramer called and has assured me he’s located some good hay and he’ll deliver a mix of Timothy out here on Sunday. You’ve just got to love Dan. When he speaks he just oozes deal making combined with real concern. He’s always saying things like “If I throw 30lbs of hamburger in with the hay load, I suppose you’ll buy that too.” What can you say, but yes? I might start to feel put upon, but then I mention I’ve got to make sure I have enough money, my finances are running low, we haven’t been able to get financing for the camp etc. and he says “Don’t worry, you’re animals are going to eat, pay me when you can.” Huh. Those thoughtful words of kindness from someone I barely know brought tears to my eyes. I hope I’ll never have to take him up on it, but what a nice man. Now I have to buy the hamburger. Maybe Henry will like Sloppy Joes.

There’s no rest for the wicked, all the animals have eaten, but none of the people. I wonder, is it a sin to give your child a Jenny Craig™ frozen entrée? I hope not, because he enjoyed a lovely roasted chicken dinner with broccoli and roasted potatoes accompanied by Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop tarts™ for dessert as Mike read aloud to him and I wrote the events of the day. I’ll have to stop now, as it is time for my escape: “Survivor”. I applied once,I sent in a tape, but alas they didn’t pick me.

January 24th DuhDa DuhDa

    For weeks now, Henry has worked on his Science Fair project. There is no grade or judging it is completely voluntary, just a learning experience.

Henry submitted his question for approval the first day back from winter vacation. He pondered the question for a while; he wanted it to be something special to him. “Not just a random volcano”, he said. In truth, I wanted something easy. The directions said, parents should help do specific things like pulling together the board presentation etc. but the kid’s had to do the research and write the paper.

    

When Henry was in Ms. Peters’ second grade class, he read a book aloud to me called Animal Teeth. It was his first real chapter book. We both actually learned from that book, it covered a variety of obscure animals including walrus etc. It was from this experience that his question sprang. “Do the shape of an animal’s teeth effect its diet?”

    To make his exhibit exciting we decided he should make models of jaws. I told him we thought he should do animals from around here rather than a lion or a kangaroo. He agreed this made sense. Mother’s aren’t always as dumb as kids think. After some debate he decided on the cat a good everyday carnivore, the beaver, an herbivore and the raccoon an omnivore we see a lot. We went to Michaels™ to get the clay, but while we were there we spotted Rigid Wrap™ like Grant Imahara uses on “Myth Busters”. This stuff turned out to be great. Henry used pictures from the Internet to copy the shapes and molded the teeth out of clay. Mike critiqued them loudly and vigorously. I hot glued them on, but they fell off and we had to use a different kind of glue. After everything was put together he painted them their appropriate colors. Who knew a beaver’s teeth are orange because they contain iron? Not me. I learned from Henry that every species has a dental formula. A lion has the same teeth in the same place as Emmett.

    

He did the research using books and the Internet, our cat Emmett and our neighbor, Wally. I taught him how to do a bibliography.

     To spice up his project we named it “Jaws”. It all comes down to advertising. Henry downloaded the type from the “Jaws” movie poster and copied it on his light box, then cut it out of construction paper. For the final touch we gathered beaver “gnawings” from the pond as “free samples”.

   

     While we put the display together, we took pictures and emailed them to Tom so he could give his opinion and keep up to date with the event. Sometimes you just have to love technology.

    Tonight was the big night. We went to dinner before the event with who else but Chris, Lisa and the girls. Henry was a nervous wreck wondering if his project would be ok. On the way to our car, a girl yelled out     “Hey, Henry you going to the science fair?”

    "Yeah, we’re on our way now.” Hmm. My son is now officially a local.

    A complete success, Henry like Quinn was very proud of his effort and was thrilled at how many crowded around his booth for free samples. I walked by and could here him explaining his booth very confidently, and saying “Yes they are really from a beaver, my beaver.”

December 23rd C3PO

    Tom is a machine when it comes to road trips. You’d think he was some kind of droid, he can drive endlessly hour after hour, a quick pee, a tank of gas, another thermos™ of coffee and he’s on the road again. Tom loves a good book on tape during these times and really if you’re with him you’re superfluous. He gets in a zone. He really only needs you to spell him for an hour or two and then he’s back in the driver’s seat. If you’re driving, he’s asleep. He’s not one for chitchat or looking out the window, he’s sawing logs.

    I heard all sorts of disastrous weather forecasts and as a result, prepared Henry that Daddy and Chris might not make it in time for Christmas, but they’d get here eventually. Knowing, Tom I never should have doubted.
They rolled in about 5:00PM. When they got here, Chris said they went straight through the night and in total he thinks he drove only about three hours out of the 1250 miles. Yep. That would be about right.

    All three cats were unloaded without incident and put in my bedroom for safekeeping. I’m nervous about all the doors and all the people. I don’t want a feline escape in the middle of the wilderness. Tom brought their enormous cat tree he made with carpet that coordinated nicely with our old great room. Now, I think it should go upstairs overlooking the pasture. A nice view for a kitty. Stephanie drove up ten seconds behind Tom and Chris. They had a family Christmas party to go to and were gone in a flash .

 

   

    Henry is over the moon. All he asked for Christmas were his cats. Daddy delivered although it was in question more than once. In the end they are here, safe and sound.

December 22nd Where There's Smoke

    (Henry helping feed the cows)

     Lisa had Tom pick up some sedatives for the cats, just in case. She didn’t want him to give any to Emmett if he could at all help it, because of his age but she didn’t want the cats to be too distressed either.

    From the grumbling and mumbling I heard on the phone, the loading and departure did not go well in regard to the cats. I didn’t get the details as both Chris and Tom were too worked up to discuss it. Profanity was used.

    A couple hours later, I got a call that the car had caught fire. FIRE! Tom had noticed as he glanced in the rear view mirror that all the cats’ mouths were agape. Looking more closely they saw smoke. Something had inadvertently turned on in the back of the car when they closed the hatch and as a result one of the tarps he had in the back was smoldering. They pulled over, put out the fire and were now back on the road. Tom said the cats probably saved everybody’s lives. I worry, has Emmett used up all of his? I am not kidding when I say I don’t think he’s going to make it. I know Tom said Emmett seems fine, but what how well will he really do long-term? He’s no spring chicken. Henry and I are going to say a prayer.

September 3rd Just Do It

 

 

It’s my birthday. Some people dread them like my friend Marie; some people ignore them completely like my friend Charlotte, while Kemi often dons a sparkely pink tiara and celebrates her birthday for an entire month. Years ago, I used to wait with nervous anticipation for my birthday presents and then one day around birthday twenty-three I realized like every woman eventually does, it’s better to buy your own presents. It doesn’t have to be much, just something, anything to make you feel special, cared for like a pair of shoes, a china armoire or a new nail polish. Having done this I wasn’t expecting anything. I really don’t need a lot, but this year, Tom floored me with the purchase of a rustic iron chandelier for our dining room. It’s the chandelier I would drool over in this little shop in Newbury Park. To make things even more incredible, Henry gave me a fantastic leather purse with brass studs on the side. So cute, I couldn’t believe he picked it out himself. These thoughtful gifts offset the decision to go to the last day of the year the water park in Blaine would be operating. You see, we’ve been going places to celebrate Lisa and my birthdays for years. Our mother used to tell us to DO something you’ll remember – make a memory. She believed in this strongly and after living with the threat of Cancer for twelve years, we never take a day of being together as a family for granted. Every year whether we had money or not we would DO something, we’d camp or drive somewhere just so we all had a shared experience. These are the times you remember. So given that Disneyland or Monterey Bay Aquarium is a ways away, we’re going to the water park. The kids really wanted to go so I acquiesced, but truly I’d have rather done just about anything else. I didn’t like water parks in hot, sunny Southern California summer day so I really didn’t like the idea on a cloudy, cold western Washington fall day. But I took one for the team. My dad was like-minded so he and I drove around Blaine; this took about ten minutes, found a good cup of coffee and wandered around a few shops. Not too much to look at we went back and waited for the rest of the gang. They were having a blast. Laughing, screaming and splashing. I consoled myself with my coffee, cow and now chandelier. And Lisa promised to make me macaroni and cheese casserole with onions and breadcrumbs plus take me whale watching next week. What more could I ask for really?

My cats. I worry every single day, I’ll never see Emmett again. No one really knows how old he is, because we didn’t know how old he was when we rescued him. Lisa’s best guess according to his teeth is about 15 years old.I just hope nothing will happen to him before he gets here, but you never know. It might be silly but I feel terrible he doesn't know where I've gone or why I had to leave him behind. Oh, I know he is with Scarlett and Alvin and Tom is snuggling them daily, but I still worry. Maybe he won't be able to withstand the stress of the drive up.

August 29th The City Mice

    Lisa and Chris closed escrow on their new house this morning. The Donaldsons:: Chris, Lisa Quinn, Phoebe

– Jack (the rescued Flame Point Himalayan),




Winifred a West Highland Terrier - always desperately in need of a bath



and Griffin - a lovely blend of Airedale and German Shepherd with a just hint of Rottweiler -finally have a home








and just in the knick-of-time. School starts in about a week.

    Although they profess to love my place they certainly did not opt for country living. They have a couple of acres with magnificent views and a spa room – complete with a Jacuzzi™, sauna and a shower in case you need to clean up a bit. If you ask them they will tell you they are actually out in the county. Miracle’s fuzzy behind they’re out in the county. They’re a mere four miles out of “town” if you can even tell you actually left town.








Don’t get me wrong; the drive to their house is stunning. As you wind along Old Chuckanut Highway you hover above cliffs littered with towering pine through the trees you can see the San Juan Islands peeking out of the water in the distance. If we had a ray of significant sunshine in this neck of the woods, their house would be worth a lot of Monopoly™ money.