As The Butter Churns

February 5th Mirror Mirror

 

(Henry and his ever present orange socks traveling to Las Vegas)

    “We’re late! It’s 9:17AM!” Henry yelled in a panic. For a moment I couldn’t remember where we were or what we were late for. Then as the startling sun shoved sleep away and my mind cleared I remembered we were in Las Vegas and my eyes flooded with tears. Again.

     I haven’t stopped crying in since January 8^th, because on January 8^th, which is coincidently Tom’s birthday, we decided as a family that Henry would go live with Tom in Ventura. The list of reasons why this is a fabulous idea is practically endless. Henry will get to live with Tom. Henry can take the bus to school. I will save money on gas. I won’t have to drive 4 hours a day or wait 3 hours a day at gymnastics. This means I can get a lot of work done on the business, which is really starting to take-off; Tom will get some much-needed time with Henry. Henry will get to see his old friends blah, blah blah. The list of reasons why this is a completely horrible and rotten idea is: my broken heart.

     I assure Henry I set the alarm and it is not 9:17 M but 7:17AM and it’s just that it is light in Las Vegas before 7:30 he begins to calm down.

     “Oh my gosh, I saw the sun and it was so bright I thought it had to be at least 9:00 and then the clock on the table said 9:17AM. I thought I was going to miss the competition.”

 (Terrible's Casino Hotel)

     “No we’re fine I set my iphone.” Reflexively I remind him, “take your meds, get in the shower and don’t forget to scrub your face,” but even as the words are tumbling out I know Tom will not be reminding him. Dads do things differently. He’s going to be in “Man School”, and I know this is good. I snuggle up to Tom in the crisp white sheets as he smiles at my tears and pulls me close.

     “Ohh, this is going to be a long day,” he says. I know it is. I keep seeing a full montage of Henry’s life flashing before my eyes. It starts with Henry as a baby coming home from the hospital then my mom holding him, Henry standing up in his crib at 6 months, Henry having surgery at 8 months, Henry eating toxic Oleander leaves and having to be rushed to the ER and put on a heart monitor, Henry dressed as Abraham Lincoln for his first Halloween, Henry climbing the refrigerator, Henry turning his first cartwheel at two. Of course, I weep at the thought of all these little moments and then I think of all the things we didn’t do and my heart hurts and I sob even harder. Tom just holds me. After 20 years he has long since learned not to try and fix it or make it better.

(Me and my boy)

     Swollen and puffy I apply my make-up as a matter of pride. It’s obvious today is a waterproof mascara day. I look in the mirror looking at a woman who is sending her child away. I feel like a Bette Davis movie, all tragic and alone like I just stepped out of "Now Voyager". 

     Ready up for the gymnastics meet we head out to Wal-Mart, because in the midst of packing up Henry’s life, I forgot to pack white socks and sweat bands for the competition. If and when Henry comes home, I’m sure he’ll have to pack all his own things. Dads do things differently. This is Henry’s first meet this season because he has been plagued with injury. In fact, he hasn’t been at the gym since before Thanksgiving. He hurt himself trying to do an Iron Cross on the rings straining his back and putting him in physical therapy twice a week for months. Now his knees are aching and we are worried about him making it through the whole meet.

     Deciding not to deny myself anything today I have the audacity and good sense to order myself two pancakes for breakfast at Denny’s while Tom and I set to filling out the New Student Registration Packet for Buena High School in Ventura.

     Staring at the boxes “Lives with Both Parents. Lives with Father. Lives with Mother. Lives with Guardian. I think of the past few weeks. They’ve been filled with details preparing for this moment. I’ve been on the phone with the counselor from Buena and the counselor from Sehome confirming all sorts of transfer matters. I’ve taken Henry to the doctor twice. Once for a concussion he got during Yoga playing some game and having an unfortunate collision with his right temple and the knee of a very big senior and the other for getting the TDAP shot so he could enter school. Of course, we had to go to the orthodontist to have his braces tightened and figure out how who we were going to get to take over his care in Ventura. There was the matter of gyms and the coordination of a ride. I spent endless amounts of time studying Ventura’s mass transit system and its various routes and pick-up times to see if Henry could get from school to Victory Gymnastics Academy in Newbury Park. All the while,Henry is happily chatting away with Tom about some hockey game their going to go to at The Honda Center in March. He is over the moon excited to be with his father every day. "Mom," he said to me, "I've been with you 14 years now I to have see what it's like with Dad." He and Tom laugh at each other's jokes while I fill out the Emergency Preparedness Card, The Parent Connection Form, and Technology Permission Form handing them one by one to Tom to sign, as he will now be the custodial parent. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head.

     “Denise! A boy needs his father. After all, Henry isn’t supposed to grow up and be like you. He wants to be a man. He needs Tom to learn how to be like him.”  I know she's right. Dear Lord, she’s been gone for 14 years and she’s still teaching me things. How does she do that? I keep focused on filling out the forms as Tom discusses hockey teams with Henry. A worker bee at heart, it isn’t until the last emergency contact’s phone number has been filled in and I finish my final cup of coffee that my tears start to leak out. Again.

     “Oh Mama, you’re crying.” Henry said gently reaching across the table. I turn away, not wanting to impose my pain on his excitement.

     “No, my eyes are just watering. The sun is so bright.” I lie as imagine my tears making little streams through my carefully applied foundation. Thankfully, I have the presence of mind not to wipe but blot my eyes trying to minimize the cosmetic damage.

     “Um –Mama, unless you’re eyes are sweating, you’re crying.”

     “Her lip is poking out. She’s crying.”

     “How does her lip do that?” Henry asks as I blot.

     On the way to the meet Tom told Henry he couldn’t play with his computer because it was our last few minutes as a family. Henry gave the complete teenage eye-roll and attitude. It was in this tiny moment I thought to myself I just might not miss him quite as much as I’d thought. In fact, perhaps visiting might be ok.

     “Pea, don’t forget to have him scrub his face before he goes to bed. It’ll keep him from breaking out.”

     “When he starts breaking out, he’ll remember.”  

     Dads do things differently, which is why in the last month I’ve had Henry’s hair cut, eyebrows waxed and we even went to get a pedicure together. I cried so hard when I had a boy, thinking I would never have a pedicure with my child, thinking I would never be as close to a son as I would a daughter but never say never. There we were. After all, I rationalized he gets ingrown toenails and he is barefoot all the time at the gym, I had to. I absolutely had to. It was for him - and I loved it. We sat there in the salon our feet soaking, covered in hot towels. I think Henry was a bit embarrassed at first, but he certainly didn’t mind the cute girl massaging his feet.

     At the Las Vegas Sports Center, I sat in the top row alone. Tom ran back to the car for something and Henry had to go warm-up. I felt alone. Really alone. Sad alone. The music was blaring Michael Jackson’s “Man in the Mirror” and I wondered if my mother had somehow arranged that. She’s clever for a dead woman. When Tom got back I could see a look cross his face meaning he could see my despair. He said nothing because men don’t. He just held my hand. I thought of that big house in the middle of nowhere I was going back to.

     “You know, it was never my dream to live on the farm alone.”

     “I know but you’re not alone, alone. Alexis is there and Mike is moving back in. You know, it was never my dream to be stuck in Ventura.”

     “I know.” I went online and booked my first visit in March.

     I felt a bit brighter by the time my friend, Susan, showed up. “How are you doing?” She asked.

     “She’ll cry if you say the word “cheese”. She’s leaking all over the place.” Susan and Tom both laughed.

     “Not cutting her any slack I see.” Susan said as I smiled wanly blotting my eyes and reapplying my the new Dolce Vita lip-gloss my friend June gave me last week.

(Leaving the meet with Henry - wearing my winter coat despite the blazing sun of Las Vegas)

     Henry did a lot better than we expected for being out of the gym as long as he had but certainly not well enough to win any awards, so we left early for McCarran airport. On the way over, we discussed the meet and Henry laughed at his pommel score. “Well you can only go up from here. Your father took video so we can see how you’re doing in comparison in about 6 months.”

     “I’m not unhappy with how I did. The meet was a good but what was with ‘The Man in the Mirror’? Did you notice it played like 22 times?”

     “Yeah, I did notice actually.”

     “Weird.”

     “Yeah, weird.”

     Completely cried out, I picked up my bags when we pulled up to the airport and matter-of-factly got out of the Ridgeline. Henry grabbed my hand with his big paw and gave it a firm businesslike shake. “Well Mom, it’s been a great 14 years. I want to thank you for everything. I've learned a lot.” He said mockingly. But then he wrapped me in his arms and hugged me. A long bear-kind of hug. And then he softly kissed the palm of my hand and put it to my cheek. “I love you Mama” It was just like what the mama raccoon in the book “The Kissing Hand” would do. I used to read that book to him over and over when he was little. And I would kiss his hand like mama raccoon when he’d go off to pre-school so he’d know I was with him always. And now he was kissing mine. My heart warmed and I felt better.

(Father and son - saying good-bye)

     Henry and Tom piled into the truck and before they could drive away, Henry had that damn computer on his lap. Out of sight out of mind I supposed.

     Turning away from the truck I went in the airport alone tears streaming down my face again. Somberly, I checked in and went through security. For years, Henry and I walked through this airport on the way to our gate after saying good-bye to Tom as he drove away – alone. Once again, my mother’s voice popped into my head, “Denise pick yourself up and dust yourself off. This is a new start for you. Your diet begins tomorrow, get yourself a little treat and you’ll feel better.”

    I marched myself into Hudson News, picked up a new cute pair of over-priced reading glasses with a pink printed case, selected a paperback, “Night Road” it’s about some woman who’s life falls apart, and loses everything including her children. It tells the “exquisite pain of loss and the stunning power of hope.” I figured it was a good pick because, “All My Children” has been canceled and I no longer have Tad Martin to turn to in my hour of need.

    Deciding to be really decadent I browse the magazines and choose “People”. After all I won't be reading it at the orthodontist’s office anymore and it seems Demi Moore is doing worse than I am. Misery loves company. I rounded out my spending spree with “Entrepreneur” magazine and a pack of peppermint gum.

    “How are you today?” Asked the smiling man behind the counter. He was so short he looked me straight in the eyes. He had big brown eyes that gleamed and he was looking at me, really waiting for an answer.

     “I’ve been better,” I admitted almost breaking into tears again. “My son, just went to live with his father and I’m on my way home - alone. So I’m buying myself some treats.”

     “That’s good. That’s good. You should,” he said “but you forget something.” I look at him quizzically. “Chocolate!” He grinned. “To feel better you need little chocolate.” And with that I picked up a pack of plain M&Ms and slapped my debit card down on the counter with out regret.

     Feeling a world better, I saw my reflection in a store window as I sauntered toward my gate. If I did say so myself my new TJMaxx winter coat was really fabulous. Suddenly visions of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” and “That Girl” started running through my head.

(Mary Tyler Moore)

I wanted to throw my hat in the air or something. There are so many things I want to do. I haven’t been this free since I couldn’t remember when. Ok so I have get a business off the ground I have a house and overdue property taxes and 47 animals to take care of and I know I’ll miss Henry, but this is a new beginning for me. First, thing tomorrow, I’m going to give the house a thorough cleaning. I’ll start my “Fat Flush” diet, and then finish the filing in the office, I’ll sleep until the sun comes up, and maybe I’ll commit to using some of the time I used to drive Henry to school to go on the treadmill. But let's not get carried away right now with restrictions - broad strokes, broad strokes. Alexis said he’d help me drywall the mudroom. I’ve always wanted to make that into an art studio. I've always wanted to throw pots. I could get a potters wheel on craigslist. And I began wondering when they were offeri welding classes at the technical college. I’ve always wanted to learn how to weld. Maybe just maybe I can weld a life-size moose out of scrap metal for Tom’s belated birthday present.

 

March 14th A Rosie Outlook

 

(As much as I love our home, everything has been bleak)

    Since Norton’s passing the joy just seemed to drain right out of the farm. His little piggy ways, his snort-snort here and snort-snort there haunted me.

    Amber did pay for most of the costs incurred, and Helix was removed from the property that fateful night. Amber took him to her parents house where he started attacking their dogs the next day. Her father not wanting another tragedy wasn't taking any chances and took him back to the shelter where he was adopted from.

      The shelter was informed of the events, and I have no idea what happened after that.

    Amber and Marcus moved out as it just was too much with the other dogs. And they did not want to part with any of their dogs. I was nervous as there were two other pit bulls in the group. Probably nothing would have ever happened, but I just couldn't live with it. And to add insult to injury there were some barking issues. It isn't often my very far away neighbors complain, but complain they did. 

    Except perhaps for the blasted roosters, I really do adore all the animals but the tragedy of Norton’s death hung around like a dismal cloud and I just cloistered myself away.

    Quinn summed it up over hot apple cider, “You know, yesterday, it felt like Christmas, but today it doesn’t anymore.” So without much fanfare and a lot of prayer Christmas came and went. The New Year brought, Annabelle the llama and non-stop work on the honey business. Preparing for trade shows, learning QuickBooks, and streamlining the jarring process all under the watchful eye and tutelage of Awesomez.

(A Charger cake for Awesomez on her birthday)

    Of course, life goes on my dad came for his annual visit, although each year his visits get shorter and shorter. And as is almost predictable-  in a chaotic sort of way, there were issues with almost all the animals. The dogs got into some of Vivian’s pain medication and all four had to go to the vet for blood panels and treatment as it could easily cause liver failure. The despair Henry and I felt heading to the vet with Luther, Vivian, Bruno and Irish so soon after the last tragedy was overwhelming. My sister managed to come to the rescue, again. 

    Christina developed a fairly dramatic limp on her front foot. I tried trimming her hoof, but it didn’t seem to help so we loaded her in the Odyssey and took a ride to see Dr. Amber Itle at Kulshan, who gave her a good once over. Deemed fit we took her home again – but the limp persists.

(Christina en route - picture by Awesomez)

Alexis, Henry and I practiced goat foot trimming. Every one of the goats and sheep needed delousing, de-worming and Annabelle the quiet natured llama, settled in slowly becoming one of Rachel’s herd. At first, both the sheep and goats thought she was some sort of monster sent to eat them, but she was patient and eventually won them over. Truly she’s a gentle creature but she does not like Midge. Not one little bit.  In fact, she gives her the stink-eye and a wide berth.

(Annabelle)

(Everyone getting along)

(Annabelle and Midge - not the best of friends)

Midge was lonely and received – special house privileges. (note Irish, Midge and Bruno)

 

    Alexis worked on better feeding methods, winter barn solutions, building blockades and fixing blockades. Abe and Andy felt were not to their liking.

    Our new tenants moved in a very nice young couple. Kristi is a nursing student and a caretaker for an elderly woman. Stephanie wants to be a copywriter, but currently works with autistic children. They have moved in lock stock and barrel. Painting the entire place to make it their own. Short of a chicken massacre by Hal or Haley they're two black cats I don't anticipate any disasters.

 

(Rose and her newest friend - Midge)

    The unexpected bright spot has been Kristi and Stephanie's niece, Rose, the precocious 3 year-old who reintroduced me to the magic of my own farm. Rose believes with her heart that all the animals love, love, love her. And she's sure this is what heaven must be like. I believe she's right.

 

(Rosie and her new friend Midge)

    Rosie screeches with delight as Midge's nibbles at her toes. She tosses her head back when Irish tickles her with his nose. Rosie loves to go to the barn and help put the animals away. She thinks she's going to win Annabelle over with alfalfa pellets. And who am I to argue? Strangely she is terrified of only one animal. Rat-Bat. That's correct, Bruno the smallest one of them all.

(small but mighty?)

(Kristi and another frequent visitor - Rose's little brother Xavier James- or as Tom calls him -  "The X-Man)

 All four goats received nightly penicillin shots for potential foot rot. And in a miraculous turn of events just before we left for Natural Products Expo West Vivian was cleared of her cancer diagnosis. 

    Thrilled, I took it as a sign of change.

     We went to The Fancy Food Show in San Francisco and got our feet wet in the specialty food industry. We got such positive response we were encouraged to keep growing so Henry and I flew out of Bellingham to Burbank on our way to the Natural Products Expo West. We were chauffeured from the airport by none other than the hostess-with-the-mostess, June “Spoon”. Unfortunately, we only saw her fleetingly as she and Rod had tickets to Clapton and well, after all they were tickets to Clapton. So they took their leave while Henry sank into the comfy sofa and I chatted on the phone admiring the unique doors throughout the house while Tom inched toward us on the 134. 

(Tom -selling his heart out -Member Candidates - we had a table in the New Brands On The Shelf Pavillion - No one under 18 was allowed to attend The Fancy Food Show so Henry stayed home with Quinn, Phoebe, Lisa and Chris)

     When Tom finally arrived we stuffed the Ridgeline with some of June’s folding tables she was lending us for the show, our backdrop and everything else we needed to create our Henry’s Stingers booth and headed down to Balboa Island. My mother’s friend, Marie, had generously offered to let us use her beach apartment on Balboa Island during the show.  

     The next few days were non-stop: Disneyland - because how in the world could we travel all the way to Anaheim with a 13 year-old tell him he was going to work from 8-6 and no we weren’t going to go to Disneyland? The tsunami warning from a reverse 911 call at 4:30AM, endless spicy honey samples, smiling until our faces hurt. Henry did interview after interview and performed like a champ. He talked to “Chef Jamie” on KFWB, Delicious Living, White Apricot and even Entrepreneur Magazine. And for the grand finale? Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey was named one of the top five new food products at the show. How lucky can we get?

(Delicious Living doing some video for being named one of the top 5 food products)

(Balbo Island- our view from Marie's beach apartment)

     On Sunday, tired beyond imagination our truck packed we drove back to June’s for pizza and pampering. Henry sank into a giant bathtub while we discussed the last few days over garlic hummus and heard all about Clapton.

     When we got home Alexis and all the dogs greeted us on the porch. I glanced around surveying all that was the farm when I noticed a duck amble by. 

     “Where’s Lance?” I asked. “There usually together.”

     I could tell something was on Alexis’ mind when he began. “I didn’t want to call you in California. But a couple of days ago I saw this eagle down by the tree where big boys (Abe and Andy the Milking Devons) sleep. I thought it had a black squirrel in its talons, but when I put the barn away, only one duck came home. I went to where I’d seen the eagle and sure enough there were black feathers.”

     “Oh, no! Now Angela is all alone.” Henry said. “Maybe we can put her in with Midge?”  We all considered the idea and went in for the evening beginning the endless process of unpacking. Although it was another death, this was the circle of life. The eagle probably had a nest and needed food. We could live with that.

 

(Midge - always good for a laugh is making a pig out of herself - enjoying a pizza box)

 

December 22nd I Can Hear The Bells

 

 (via Henry's phone - Tamara's Wedding Cake - that I decorated - the top two tiers are chocolate with raspberry filling, the bottom tier is toasted coconut with cream cheese icing -on top are glass hummingbirds -my gumpaste ones did NOT work out-  the outside is buttercream not fondant - didn't I get that smooth? And those are NAVY flowers and ribbon with brown branches the bride requested)

    I’d just finished the first wedding cake I’d ever decorated and was on flying on a mixture of buttercream and adrenaline. Being my first time it took me quite a while but I was surprised to look up and find it had actually been nine hours. The clock read 7:30 PM and I had to pick up Henry two towns away in Burlington. Bursting with pride I flew down the I-5. I had worried for days it would look homemade. I didn’t want the bride, Tamara, to be disappointed on her day. Pish-posh I thought. It looked amazing, even if she did want navy flowers.  Looking for a job as always, I had answered a craigslist ad for a “very part-time cake decorator”. Without much hope of getting it I sent off a picture of Phoebe’s birthday cake and some of my Easter cookies and held my breath. To my surprise, Denise Ward called me and said she wanted to meet. “You see, I bought this business and well, I love to bake and I’m really good at baking, but I realized pretty quickly I don’t like to decorate and I’m not good at it either. To me it’s all about the taste.” She’d said. I’d told her I don’t even like cake, to me it’s all about how it looks and the icing. We seemed to go together like peas and carrots. We started small with some birthday cakes and I was supposed to observe this cake while the previous owner decorated. But she’d decided to go out of town for the holidays and I was up to bat.

 (the cake at the kitchen - a little clearer)

     I realized I was happy. The kind of happy deep inside where no matter what you know it’s going to be ok. Money of course has been a constant worry for just about everyone in the last few years, but it doesn’t define us. I’ve been thinking lately that if things don’t turn around some how, like if the honey doesn’t take off or Tom isn’t able to join me, I might have to sell the farm. Which is a hard thought to have, but as I zoomed past Lake Samish I thought – it’s just a house, we’ll make a home wherever we are.

     I am going to a tradeshow in January and who knows, it could turn things around, but for now. I made a wedding cake and didn’t botch it.

     In the morning, sipping coffee I was still basking in the afterglow of my wedding cake. I chatted with Awesomez who’d had to seek refuge at June’s house in the California storms. “You know, it hasn’t rained a drop since you left. It’s almost 50 degrees and blue skies here.” I said checking the thermometer on the porch.

     “Are you bragging?” She queried.

     “Uhhhh, yeah. I guess I am”. I snickered. She told me about the floods, the troubles maneuvering from Palm Springs where her dad lives to LAX, the canceled flights, the closed roads, broken windshield wipers, the heat in her dad’s car being on the fritz and the spare panties June had ready for wayward travelers.  

     “Nothing so dramatic going on here,” I said hanging up. Henry and I had to get the house picked up. The kitchen was a mess from me practicing navy blue royal icing flowers with yellow centers. I’d made hundreds of them. Just in case. I smiled to my self as I thought back on the day before. - I’d been so worried and my tummy had been bothering me. Henry had told me to lie down on the sofa while he made my practice icing. I was nervous and couldn’t relax so I came in the kitchen to check on him. 

     He looked over his shoulder when I came in the room hunched over in pain. “Look, I’m not asking you I’m telling you to go back in there and lie down.” I must have looked weak and vulnerable because he pounced on me like a camel on a bug. “I’ll be in in a minute now go.” I went. Laughing, it was like hearing my mother moving to the next generation through me and on to Henry. He came in and brought me a hot water bottle, some Advil™ a cup of tea and turned on “Amazing Wedding Cakes” - for educational purposes.

     We finished cleaning the kitchen, vacuumed the hallway, I ordered a cushion for the sofa that had been ripped mysteriously and we headed to town to meet my boss, the other Denise.

   (Farmhouse Hotel at the Homestead in Lynden)

    “I’m not touching the cake, she might stab me in the face if I do anything wrong,” Henry told the other Denise, Denise Ward of Seamless Cakes. She laughed and Henry held the door open. The drive to the wedding was uneventful. We went slowly and Henry sat in the back monitoring any movement. We arrived at the Homestead House in Lynden and were shown the cake table. We placed the cake, took a few pictures and snuck out the door just in time to hear the bride exclaim, “There’s my cake! Let’s go look at it!” as she was ushered out of the room to finish taking pictures.

     No sooner had Henry and the other Denise and me jumped in the car than my phone rang. I didn’t want to talk to anyone – I wanted to enjoy our moment, and I didn’t recognize the number so I almost put it back in my purse but it had the Deming/Acme/Mosquito Lake Road prefix so I answered it.

     “Denise?” A frantic voice called out.

     “Yes,” I answered trying to figure out who was calling me.

     “It’s Norton, he’s been attacked. I’m so sorry! I was out walking the dogs and Helix went after him and got him on the nose and I want to make this right and I’m so sorry!” She was almost hysterical. It took me a moment to figure out it was Amber my tenant who lives in the apartment over the shop where my dad, and Amy and Kristie all used to live. She’d moved in with her boyfriend. They’d had two dogs and a cat. But one day I noticed two additional dogs. And that’s a lot of dogs for that small place. I’d put in a dog door so they could go directly in the dog run attached to the shop, but I’d had my hesitations. Most of the dogs seemed nice, but I’d worried some about Helix. He chased chickens whenever he had the chance and didn’t really seem to obey. He was a Pitbull. And I’d turned down tenants for Pitbulls before. I worried about having a pack of Pitbull mixes and a Boxer on my property. They were all incredibly strong dogs, but they stayed in their pen and so I didn’t worry too much. Bowzer was a big baby submissive to Luther, Nala was sweet and wiggly and Emerson the Boxer was all kisses. They got a long fine with my dogs. Helix however was the wildcard.

     “Are you sure he needs a doctor?” I said. “Pigs are pretty tough,”

     “He definitely needs something. Stitches or something. I haven’t gotten a good look at the wound he’s walking around in the pasture, but where should I take him?” She broke down into tears.

     “Amber, shhh ok take him to Kulshan Veterinary in Lynden. It’s on Badger and Benson. I have to go back to Ferndale and get my car then Henry and I will meet you there. Can you get him in the car?”

     “I don’t know, I don’t know.” She wept.

     “Maybe I should come home. I’ll call Kulshan, maybe they can come to you.” I hung up and tried calling Kulshan, but I was getting nervous. I called my sister instead and relayed the information. She called Kulshan and I called Alexis. He said he wasn’t far away and would go home to get Norton in the car. 

     “I guess he has a cut on his nose and needs some stitches.” I told him.

     “I finished at Dawn’s and I’m just at the Everbody’s Store and I can be home in about ten minutes.”

     My sister called back. “They can take him at 4:00PM. I don’t know if she can get him there by then, but they’re at least expecting him.” 

     “Alexis is here she said and we’re trying to get him in the car. Denise, it’s really bad I can see bone.” Fear was starting to wash over me. Until now I’d thought it was just a laceration. No big deal. It wasn’t his throat or his abdomen after all. “I’ll let you talk to Alexis.”

     “Hey, umm it’s pretty bad. I can see his skeleton,” He said quietly and matter-of-factly. I don’t know what else he said because I stopped listening. I was afraid he wasn’t going to get him in the car and take him to the vet at all. I was afraid he wasn’t going to give him a chance.

     “Alexis! Get him in the car! Please! Get him to the vet!” 

     “I’ll get him in the car. I’ll get him in the car don’t worry.” He said. 

     I called my sister back and told her what they’d said. “Don’t necessarily believe them. I hear that all the time and it’s not nearly as serious as they think. Often times it’s tendon they see. Let’s just hope right now. Pigs bleed a lot.”

     “I need you. Can you come?” I asked. She didn’t’ hesitate.

    “We’re on our way.”

     The other Denise dropped Henry and I back at the American Legion Hall where we do the cakes and wished us luck. It was cold and I considered stopping for a coffee on the way. But I was sick to my stomach and couldn’t think of coffee right now. We called Tom. He wasn’t in his office so we left a message and headed off to Kulshan. 

     Alexis, Amber and Norton were on their way, but hadn’t arrived. Henry and I sat down in the waiting room and before along a doctor came out to greet us.

 (Doctor Perry Stanfield)

    “Are you here for Norton?” He asked introducing himself as Dr. Perry Stanfield.

     “Yes, but he’s not here yet.” 

     “I know, I just thought maybe you could give me some information. And an estimate of about how long you think it’ll be before they get here.”

     “Well, they were on the 9 at Mt. Baker Highway about 10 minutes ago. I really can’t even think right now, is that about 15 minutes?”

     “I think that’s about right.”

     “Norton’s an American Guinea Hog.”

     “I’m not familiar with that breed.”

   (baby Nortie)

    “He’s a heritage breed, black about 30 inches tall and weighs a couple hundred pounds, he’s healthy and strong and not yet a year old. He’s intact.” I said trying to stick to the facts.

     “And he’s very sweet and loves his tummy rubbed,” Henry added. “He’s one of my best friends.”

 “I’ve loved a lot of pigs,” Dr. Stanfield said to Henry very kindly. “I’m a small animal doctor, but I’ve worked on a lot of pigs. Actually, I’ve tried to shake the pig doctor reputation. Does he lead on a leash or harness? I’m just wondering how we’re going to corral him.” He said smiling.

     I mentioned my sister was a veterinarian and that she was coming he nodded saying he knew Lisa. Having Lisa to talk shop is always a comfort. Doctors talk differently to doctors. I know too that Lisa could assure them that if there was a lot of care to be done that we could do whatever was necessary. Bandage changes, injectable antibiotics and any other wound maintenance. Lisa had said maybe Norton and Midge should move to her barn and stay in Cody’s stall for awhile so she could take care of him during his recovery. Cody her horse was somewhere else for the winter being used for riding lessons.

     “He doesn’t really like to be led, but I don’t know what state he’s in now.” I said wanly.

    “Well, let me tell you, it’s hard to kill a pig. So please have hope. They can endure more than you think. I’m going to take my next patient, but have them let me know when he arrives and I’ll come out to the parking lot and do an initial evaluation so he doesn’t have to move.” I shook his hand and thanked him for his kindness. After that we sat and waited watching the other people come and go with their happy healthy dogs. There was a very happy Chocolate lab with stitches, a German shepherd with a limp and a Husky who’d needed shots. I grabbed a cup of luke warm coffee from the thermos on the table.

   (Norton in the back and Midge in the front)

    Lisa and Quinn walked in the waiting room just before Alexis called with Amber from the parking lot. I notified the receptionist and we all walked out to the car. Amber was dressed in nothing but a navy sweatshirt and jeans. She looked frozen her face streaked with tears. Alexis was in his farm boots wearing jeans and a jacket standing next the car looking very somber. Henry, Quinn and I hung back waiting for them to assess him. We could hear him snort hello. That was our snuggly Snortin’ Norton.

 (Farmer Today - Henry the modern day farm boy and his trusty pig, Norton)

    As we stood there I could see Lisa’s smiling face fade as she became the doctor. They were gesturing and talking. As I watched her I wondered where she’d gotten that fabulous new jacket she was wearing. I figured she must have been Christmas shopping and I went on to guess it was TJ Maxx. She nodded me to come over so I walked to the back of the car. She motioned again for me to stay to her right to shield me from the wound, only it was too late for that. I was horrified almost to the point of being sick. I couldn’t have imagined the unyielding viciousness of the attack. His face had been chewed off. His skeleton was protruding his nose was gone and there was blood and flaps of skin. It was most brutal thing I’ve ever seen. And with his nose completely gone, I wondered how could he still snort?

     “Dr. Perry and I are trying to decide what to do.” Lisa said to me and to Henry. 

     “I’m having my colleagues assess him too so we consider all the options. There's over 150 years of experience her.” Dr. Perry Stanfield said.

     “You see,” Lisa said, “If we do surgery and reconstruct he can’t get anesthesia through a mask, and then we have to use injectables which is much harder to manage, and if he makes it through the surgery then there is the problem that his lower jaw will protrude and we wonder if he’ll have a hard time eating,” she said.

     “Then we wonder about his temperament. Norton is a loving kind pig, but will he continue to be?” Dr. Stanfield wondered.

     “And if we get him through all of this how will we keep him from ripping everything out? He’s not a dog and we can’t put an Elizabethan collar on him because of the shape of his neck.”

     “So are you saying, he wont’ make it?” I asked rubbing his tummy with Lisa and Henry as we talked.

     “No, I haven’t given up on him,” Dr. Stanfield said. “Not yet anyway. His vitals are strong, we’re just not sure yet.” I nodded and walked away unable to control my sobbing.

     Norton wasn’t a farm animal he was a farm-dog – so smart and sweet. Henry was standing with Quinn silent staring into space at one point and the next moment he was sobbing uncontrollably while Quinn comforted him.

   (Norton goes nose to nose with Gnatalie)

    Poor Amber stood by weeping, the weight of the world on her shoulders. I felt so sorry for her. I seemed to disassociate. It was as if I wasn’t really part of the scene at for a moment, but watching from afar. Amber had Norton’s blood smeared on her white sneakers. Alexis rubbed her shoulder every once in a while and intermittently everyone would huddle together for warmth. We could hear Norton breathing as he lay in the back of Amber’s car and every once in a while there was an occasional snort. I knew in my heart this was not going to end well as five salt & peppered doctors consulted. But we stood around waiting while the doctors discussed Norton’s injuries and his prognosis. We  hoped and huddled together for warmth discussing trivial things as people do in these situations. 

     “You know my mom got that coat at TJ Maxx,” Quinn said.

     “I knew it! It’s really cute.” I felt triumphant at my powers of deduction. I still had it.

   (Lisa in "her" new coat)

    “What you don’t know is it was a Christmas present for you and she loved it so much she kept it.” Quinn outed her. Alexis, Amber and Henry began to chat and my mind began to wander.

     It was up to me to make The Decision. The doctors including my sister were telling me without telling me. I know many people don’t want their animals to suffer, but that wasn’t my main concern. Life is full of suffering. Irish had suffered through his recovery, but it had been worth it. As my sister has said many times “Dogs are born with three legs and a spare.” Irish had a wonderful happy life. He enjoys snuggling,“Dancing With the Stars” and chasing an occasional cougar. Sure he limps off and on, but he’s not unhappy.

    I felt tremendous guilt I’d allowed this to happen. But in truth although Helix had chased chickens I’d never dreamt of this possibility. He’d been around the pigs, goats, sheep dozens of time and I’d never had an inkling of this kind of evil. I could have handled it better if it had been a coyote attack. Then it would have been about survival and food. Sure I would have been upset the llama wasn’t here, but it wouldn’t have been the same thing. Death they say is death. But that’s not true. I’ve seen death. There is illness and accident and then there is murder. Murder is a completely different thing. When something or someone decides to kill and purposely takes a life it’s a different death. 

     Norton I was pretty sure would never ever be happy again. I knew too I’d do anything including spend the money on this innocent to do a heroic surgery. I’d take care of him and keep him in the laundry room if necessary, but what I did not want to do was put him through all of this if in the end he would not be happy in any way. The prospect made me was so deeply sad. I felt guilty. My precious animal was just having a nice sunny piggy day out by the pond munching on grass and sipping from the stream and then this Pitbull which I had allowed to be on my property had ravaged him. The thought of the fear and the unbelievable pain he must have felt drained my strength. I walked over to Lisa and Dr. Stanfield. “If he were your friend, would you let him go?” I asked directly reaching over and rubbing Norton’s tummy again.

     “I really hate to give up on him, but I think so.” He said. Lisa was still rubbing his tummy and Norton lifted his leg up so she could get his good spot. “I’m just afraid, that if we do everything we can, we might be in this exact position in three weeks.”

   (pigs in a blanket- Midge on the left and Norton on the right)

    “I can’t put Norton through that. Or Henry.” I said deciding. I nodded to Quinn and Henry to come over to say good-bye. Quinn hadn’t wanted to but now that this was the end she came over and rubbed his tummy. He’d ridden home from Portland on her lap. Tears rolled down her face; she was crying so hard she was shaking. 

     “Can’t we save him?” She begged. “Really?”

     “No honey, it’s time to say good-bye.” I said and then Lisa began explaining the medical stuff again. I walked away and called Tom while Alexis and Amber said their good-byes.

   (Quinn bringing Norton home from Portland)

    Dr. Stanfield sedated Norton first. Lisa never stopped rubbing his tummy and telling him he was a good pig. I told him how much he was loved.

    “Norton you really are some pig. You know how much we love you. You really are some pig”. I cooed. After he slipped into unconsciousness we stood there in the cold clear night air waiting for him to pass. The moon was bright and the clouds were remarkably dramatic. Alexis kept insisting that we go inside and get warm, but none of us could leave Norton’s side. We could hear him breathing until the end. It was decided to take him home for burial because it would cost hundreds of dollars to dispose of the body.

     “You’ll have to use the backhoe,” Dr. Stanfield insisted. “The body has to be deep because anything that feeds on him will die.” I nodded as did Alexis.

     “We can do it,” Alexis said giving me a hug. We discussed getting Norton’s body out of the car and where to put when we got home until we could bury him.

     “He’s gone,” Lisa announced almost in a whisper. And just then in the distance we could hear the bells of a church begin to chime.

     “Listen! Can you hear the bells?” Quinn asked. “They’re chiming.”

   (Norton with his colonial farm pig on)

    My thoughts turned to Midge. She was all alone and still outside. 

     “Mom? What about Frank and the other animals? I’m worried their not in the barn yet and it’s night.” Henry asked with fear in his eyes. Alexis promised to handle everything and told me to just go in the house when I got home. I was in no mood to argue and I knew there were no words that could convey my gratitude so I simply thanked him.

     As we were about to leave Quinn suggested we stay and have some family time. “We should go get something to eat and just be together for awhile.” I really didn’t want to go home so we readily agreed. As we sat down at Asian One I told everyone I’d informed Awesomez.

     “How’d she take it?” Quinn asked.

     “Well, she was devastated. I think she’s taken aback at how much she truly loved that big pig. She was talking about his floppy ears and thinking of him running. She said he put the bar pretty high.You know he used to sit on her feet and lean on her so she’d pet him. She was crying and is just so angry like Tom. And he’s beyond furious and wants that dog gone tonight.”

     “I don’t blame him.” Quinn agreed putting her napkin in her lap. 

     “The vet and I told Amber the dog should be destroyed. I hate to say it, but you don’t know what it could attack next.” I said sipping my mug of hot water. I was worried about Henry. He just sat at the table motionless, not crying and not saying a word. He was shutting down. I reached over and squeezed his hand. The phone rang as we were dipping in to our hot tom yum gai. It was Alexis, he’d called Lisa’s phone. “Oh! She is. How badly?....” Paralyzed with fear we all sat still our eyes boring into Lisa waiting for her to tell us the extent of Midge’s injuries.

     “She’s not too bad, Alexis is going to clean her up. She has bites on the back of her neck and ears and she’s limping. She’ll need antibiotics.”

     “Helix got her first, and Norton saved her.” I said.

     “Yeah, it looks that way,” Lisa agreed.

     “Just like Lloyd. He sacrificed himself.” Henry said tears rolling down his face again. “I just can’t believe that pig is gone. Remember when he chased me around the van for my Nutella and peanut butter sandwich? You know I loved him so so much.” We all sat silently glad to be together.

   (Our Norton, "who somehow without words touched everyone he knew"- Awesomez)

--

 

 

 

 

December 2nd Sugar Rush

  (a few of the bottles used)

    The last couple of years we’ve loved looking at the gingerbread houses at the Port of Bellingham Gingerbread Christmas Contest. Gingerbread houses had a huge tradition in Colonial America and so this year, Tom and I decided we’d try our hand. Tom had never made a gingerbread house and I’d only done a kit when I was eight-years-old, which I gave to my grandparents.

     Deciding what to do was quite a task. We loved the “Up” entry last year and Awesomez suggested a paddleboat after “The Princess and the Frog”. We were sold.

 (Our inspiration last year's "UP" entry)

     “Personally, I think you should do Mt. Rushmore with Eva Marie Saint hanging on,” Chris snickered. “A paddleboat just isn’t ambitious enough.” He chided. “Come on! challenge yourself!”

(the cardboard mock up --a little worse for wear-  began as 4 decks but was reduced to three - it just looked too ding-dang tall)

    Tom designed the cardboard mock up at Halloween, then built the 24” x 24”wooden base and was going to have it shipped. I didn’t really think Tom would get to participate too much more than that since he always has Thanksgiving with his older kids, Craig and Laura, in California and the competition is December 1^st but then again –

     Some women buy lingerie some bake gingerbread. Because - where there’s a will there’s a way. And as it happens – This year for the first time - Tom flew in the day after Thanksgiving, bringing the base and the battery-powered motor he’d rigged to light the inside and outside lights as well as turn the paddlewheel.

     For as much planning as I’d done, I thought I’d have all the pieces baked before Thanksgiving so all we’d have to do is start to assemble. However, I did not count on the cows escaping to the neighbors, the power outage, the pipes freezing or Lucky needing to be put down. And of course there was a lot of trial and error. Some pieces were too thick others too thin. There was a huge learning curve. You have to add any details to the rolled out dough before you bake, but you don’t cut them out until after the first 20 minutes of baking so they hold their shape.

  (starting the gingerbread baking - with template Tom designed)

    We had a gingerbread recipe that created rock hard pieces – we scored the decks like hardwood – a pattern I’m intimately familiar with having put in more hardwood floors and ceilings than I’d care to think about.

     The plan was to have everyone participate in the assembly. Unfortunately, Toby had to leave on Saturday so she helped bake some of the pieces and worked feverishly on window molds. Naturally, she was in constant communication over the phone with ideas and suggestions. Ayumi proved to have a knack for royal icing but alas she too had to leave to go home before assembly began. Phoebe got a fever of 103 knocking the entire Donaldson team out of the picture and it goes without saying Mike is all thumbs. 

 (Toby does her part and makes foil molds for the cabin's sugar glass windows)
 

 

 (liquid sugar, cream of tartar and lemon extract make lollipop windows - and a few lollipops with the extra)

 (Phoebe the little sickie)

 (Pouring the lollipop water- foil barricades in place

 (Lollipop sugar water - was supposed to be blue and green, but a funny thing happened from the stove to the pouring - oh well)

 (Ayumi and I make a vat of rice crispie treats so Tom can sculpt the hull)

 (Tom working on the motor so the paddle wheel will turn. and the lights will light - Mike in his familiar supervisory position)

 (Tom carves the hull)

 (Ayumi enjoys spreading the royal icing on the cabins)

 (Henry Ices and Mike continues to supervise)

 (the cabins iced)

 (Henry does a layer of buttercream)

 (smoothing black fondant on the hull)

    My mom was a big believer in making Christmas more than a day. She always told me that Christmas was a big disappointment to people and such a difficult time because of all the expectations put on one day. So it’s best to do things and share things as a family like going to a play rather than just opening presents that can hardly measure up to everyone's Norman Rockwell image. So I threw some pancakes on the griddle and kept Henry home from school for a dose of holiday cheer. Christmas music blared from the game room on the jukebox and decorated The Evangeline and snacked on royal icing.

    We had plenty of mishaps. The chocolate fence didn't work, the wiring had to be fixed about a thousand times, the lollipop water cracked all over the place, Tom and Alexis couldn't cut the pretzels for the second deck fence. Luckily, Henry turned out to be a pretzel cutting savant. Oh and we planned to have the characters from the movie on board and in the water, but the modeling chocolate we made turned out to be greasy and weird. Not to mention the gum paste fiasco. We tried to make about 17 things from gum paste, but having never worked with it we just couldn't get it together. But we persevered and it came together.

     “Your mother was right,” Alexis turned towards me thoughtfully as he Elvis and Tom finished their duet of “Blue Christmas”. Adirondack gingerbread deck chair and fondant towel in hand he said softly, “This is Christmas.”

     When we ran out of time and the Evangeline had to get to the ferry terminal. Tom went up to take a quick shower before his flight. He’d rented a car and was going to meet me at the ferry terminal to help me carry The Evangeline inside before heading to the airport. I was going to go ahead in my car with The Evangeline and pick up Henry early from school so he could be there for the official delivery.

     Clearing a path to the car so as not to trip over any cats, balls, deck chairs, dog beds, dog bowls, water dishes, baseball bats, geese or sundry other stuff. I got an old clean sheet from the linen closet and put it down on the floor of the van. Next I got a cushion and some boxes to brace The Evangeline in place and keep her steady.

     “You know, this was so fun and I’m so proud of it, I don’t care one bit if we win or not. I just want someone to go – oh look at this one!” I told Alexis as he helped me carry our entry out to the Odyssey.

     “I think that’s going to happen, no problem,” Going through the front door we rested the box on the railing. We took it slow being uber-careful, as we had been the whole time. Each night we locked the pieces of gingerbread and the lollipop water in the laundry room to keep them safe from pouncing kittens or snacking canines.

   (Henry drops on gingerbread scored to look like hardwood planks - should have baked egg whites on top to make it shiny, but forgot)

   (Tom and Henry work on the white chocolate mold - fence for the second deck. - unfortunately it was not to be- it kept breaking)

 (Tom drills holes for the blinking lights that will be the fireflies - ala Disney and Pirates of the Caribbean)

 (2mm dragees - little gold balls - for the cabin trim- piped icing cement around windows and dipped)

 (Irish inspects - the work- or looks for a snack)

 (getting details on the edges)

 (Henry is the pretzel cutting savant - and voila a new fence for deck two instead of the chocolate mold)

 

 (In an attempt to make the pretzel fence white - Alexis cut a piece of chicken wire and formed a dipper - but alas it didn't work. The fence clogged when the icing was thicker and it didn't cover the pretzel when it was thinner - had to redirect - Henry had to recut all the pieces- after I ruined them)

 (pretzel fence piece - with white dragees ready for gold detail)

 (kitchen a disaster - painting with lemon extract and gold lustre dust)

(Starting to stack and add fence supports etc)

 (flags on upper deck)

 (close of fence detail)

 (Life Savers in position)

 (testing the smoke stacks - tubes covered in black fondant)

 (Almost! - Alexis and Tom asses)

 (Alexis's deck chair, fondant towel and life saving box -my candy corn bunting now on-Tom icing cemented them in crescents on parchment -so I could put them on as a unit)

 (ready to go!- with cotton candy smoke)

     Never once did we worry about Edward. However as everyone knows horses love sugar and here we were carrying one big giant sugar cube out to the car. Pesky, fuzzy, naughty Edward sniffed out this equine sized snack and mounted his attack. Our arms full we couldn’t push him away. We had to carefully hold on to the large wooden box on which rested our precious entry. Alexis tried forcing Edward to move backward by using his entire body and walking backwards, but Edward is 17-hands-high and he just came over the top of Alexis with his long arching neck. Bobbing his head back and forth to thwart Edwards’ attempts Alexis looked like he was having a seizure. Edward tried plucking the fondant smoke stacks right out of the Evangeline with his horse lips.

     “One nibble just one and it’s off to the glue factory for you!” I warned. Edward was non-plussed. Like a misbehaved toddler he knew full well this was just one more idle threat. Desperate, Alexis and I knew losing was not an option, in unison we dashed toward the open van right past his accomplice Miracle and quickly slid the van door shut.

 

 (Sir Edward - a whole lot of trouble)

 (now - just upstairs)

 (blue sparkle gel hides the cracks in the lollipop water and Tom adds last minute foam is added behind the paddle wheel)

 (on display)

   (State Capital building)


    I gathered up Henry who held onto the last minute icing bag I’d brought with me for last minute touch ups. Tom had secured a space close to the terminal for easy access. Henry and he carried it in while I held my breath. As Tom and Henry hemmed and hawed about where to place it and at what angle we looked around at the other entries. There was an impressive state capitol building and a hilarious crypt with a dead gingerbread man, but we felt confident we’d kicked some gingerbread butt.

     “A good first effort,” Tom said as we left to grab a bite to eat. “Now how will we top it for next year?”

     “I’m still basking in the gingerbread afterglow, I can’t think about next year.”

     The next day, I was running errands with Awesomez when the call came in, “Is this Denise?”

    “Yes,”

    “This is Marie Duckworth and I’m calling to congratulate you. The Evangeline has won the family category of the Port of Bellingham’s Gingerbread competition.”

    “We won!?” Ok - now I could think about next year.

 

 

November 5th Are You My Llama?

 (Cocoa - an adorable llama along the way)

     Honestly, the last thing I want in this world is another animal. I know my sister won’t believe me, but I really have all the animals I can handle. After all, I have one precious pup dying of cancer and I already have the entire colonial farm animal collection – down to the very last snuggly little piggy, Midge. My barn is full and when I say full I mean love – and crap. A lot of work goes into keeping that place from falling apart. And in the winter they can’t just graze on the pasture. Hay costs money and chicken feed is not purchased for, you know - chicken feed.

     On the other hand, I can barely take the tension filled now dark drive home every evening. My stomach is in knots wondering if there’s been a coyote attack or Frank is roosting on the barn, if Alice is sitting on top of the chicken coop. I hope Norton and Midge are cuddled up in their pigpen and Alexander is tucked in his corner of the barn. Safe.

   (Silence stays safe in a tree)

    Night after night, my sleep is stolen by the sound of Irish warning howling coyotes to stay away. I worry about Lucky down in the pasture unable to walk let alone run. Death by coyote pack seems horrific. The yips from the pack in the hills taking there prey keep me from getting any real rest. I am at the window several times a night listening – just in case I need to rush to the pasture and intervene. The other night I heard such chilling sounds I stepped into Henry’s boots and ran in my flannel pajamas with my air horn to the barn for fear a coyote had slipped under the gap in the sheep pen door. It was a false alarm.

     There are three animals that protect a herd. First, is the donkey. To begin they will sound the alarm with an “EEEEEAhhhhh” that can be heard for quite a distance. Next they run and lure the predator away, kicking the unsuspecting culprit with deadly aim – They’re next assault, I call - the flamenco-dancer-stomp. They charge the intruder and stomp repeatedly with their front feet. Once they have their adversary pinned they go to stage three: the bite.

     Miracle performed this three-pronged assault beautifully when she first came. She bonded with the sheep and goats and begrudgingly looked after the geese. She used her arsenal of defense many times and I felt she was in control. In three years, I never lost an animal. The game warden often mentioned this surprised him when I’d report a cougar sighting, “After all, you’re practically running a lunch buffet out there.” What could I say? Miracle was a – well – miracle. But she like many females fell in love – and quit work.

   (lovebirds - Sir Edward and Miracle)

    The next recommended herd guardian is an Anatolian shepherd. And as it happens I have one of these. Anatolians are fierce protectors. They can withstand the cold.  Many live in the barn and stay with their flocks full time. But mine although interested in working part-time would rather spend his evenings on the sofa watching “Dancing with the Stars”. So he’s no solution.

   (Irish enjoying Quinn's attention. - He uses that freckled paw to clock you if you stop snuggling)

    At this point the only option left is to get rid of all my other animals, as they’re starting to get picked off one by bone. Or get a llama. What I don’t’ know about llama’s could fill a book so I began researching. Googling. And calling around. I spoke to Toby because she’d owned a couple. She told me about their feet, their feed and what she thought. I looked on craigslist because I didn’t want to spend a lot of money and figured I might be able to pick up a slightly used llama. Finally, I talked to a man who told me about a woman who didn’t live too far from me who was an expert in llamas. I called her.

     Niki Kuklenski owned many llamas – none of which were for sale, but she said she’d love to have us over to talk about llamas and have us meet a few. She also mentioned she liked to help people find the right llama. So I got Henry, wrangled up Awesomez and headed out to meet some llamas.

     “What do you think of your mom looking at a llama?” Awesomez asked Henry.

     “When my mom says let’s go Look at an llama, that’s mom-speak for get a llama and take it home with us,” Henry said looking out the window.

     “The ones we’re going to see today are not even for sale!” I protested.

     “I know you.” Henry said without missing a beat.

     “At least I know you can’t take one home in a minivan,” Awesomez looked over at me and chuckled.

     We got out of the van and were introduced to about twenty different llamas. We were sniffed and scrutinized. Llamas it turns out have no idea of personal space.

     We learned llamas are similar to cats. They investigate you when they feel like it. Not all are good guardians. Males are perverts and will kill the female sheep and goats they’re protecting trying to mate them. Llamas should only spit at each other or if really threatened. They should not just go around spitting at people that is the equivalent of having a dog that bites. Llamas need llama pellets, selenium and hardly ever go in a barn. They like being outside, need a bit of shelter and hardly eat a thing. Some breeds you sheer for fiber some you don’t. If you do sheer them then you do it about once a year. You trim their feet every couple of months. Llamas can cost thousands of dollars or even be free. “Oh and you can put them in a minivan,” Niki said off-handedly walking toward the tack room. “They’ll cush right down.”

     I glanced at Awesomez who could barely keep from laughing. We did not go home with a llama in my minivan. But we did get some leads on free llamas.

     A couple of days later, Henry and I were in the car on our way to meet “Breezy”. The drive we thought was going to be about three hours one-way.  Henry didn’t mind he just popped in “Animal House” and leaned back.

     After the main feature, the bonus features, the director’s commentary and the anniversary extras Henry asked sleepily, “ How much longer?” We were well past the three-hour mark, I looked at the exit number on the directions and glanced at the off ramp sign,  quickly deducing we were only about two-thirds there. After some discussion, and the promise of a pizza, we decided since we already gone this far we’d keep going.

     When the sign “42 miles to Portland” came into view I had to laugh. Had we known it was going to take us six hours we never would have gotten in the car, but here were. We got off the freeway and made our way to the llama place. Breezy was adorable. She had a beautiful face and a cream and camel colored coat. As we looked at her we wondered if she was going to be ours – “I just wormed her and did her feet. She’s ready to go he said as he went in her pen and tried to put her lead on her. I felt guilty. He’d obviously thought we were going to leave with her today. Suddenly I felt a little trapped.

   (Breezy)

 (Pretty Breezy)

    Breezy pinned her ears as she threw her head back and worked up a good one. She spat and spat at the nice man who tried to brush it off. “She’s a little cranky right now,” he apologized, but she’ll settle down. I thought of my grandmother Irene – “Pretty is as pretty does” she used to say.

     “Henry go on over there so I can get a picture of you with Breezy.” I suggested. Henry just glared at me arms folded not budging. 

     “Can we meet the babies in the lower pasture?” Henry redirected already done with Breezy. They were friendly, snuggly and sweet. From the moment we came to the gate they ran across the field to greet us. Their gate is so funny they look kind of like a camel when they move. It was hilarious to seen them romp toward us. Taller than us, they craned their necks over the tops of us. As I was speaking, to the owner I felt something - turning my head slightly I saw a llama face only ½ an inch away. I couldn’t help but giggle.

     One llama considered abnormal – had defective blue eyes. He was Breezy’s son, which is why they were getting rid of her. Patches looked a little like a vampire llama. The other one was Rizzo. Henry fell in love with Patches. And although Patches was available he was a both a baby and a boy. And therefore out of the question. Just as Henry began to beg and try and convince me Patches wouldn’t be a problem, Patches made an un-godly gurgling sound and mounted Rizzo.

   (Patches and Rizzo)

 (there are the blue eyes)
 

    “What was that creepy weird sound?” Henry laughed.

     “That’s orgling,” the woman replied.

     “Good name,” Henry confirmed.

     "It's the mating sound," she explained.

    "It sounds more like the date rape sound," Henry laughed again.

     We went to yet another pasture and wrangled one llama to the side. This was Annabelle. She was ten years-old and much sweeter than Breezy, to be sure but completely uninterested in us. Of course, I knew she won’t be like a dog, but she still just didn’t seem right. I didn’t connect with her nor did Henry.

  

    After that we were introduced to a few more llamas. One little girl named Cocoa who was a doll. And despite her youth we might have taken her, but she wasn’t for sale. So against all odds we left without a llama. Instead, I spent 6 hours listening to why I should get Patches despite his mounting and orgling.

   (Henry holds still while Cocoa investigates)

 (Henry and Cocoa)
 

    That night I reported back to my llama mentor about the spitting incident. Appalled she ferreted up a few more - free llama possibilities. And two days later, Awesomez and I were on a ferry to meet more llamas.

     “I noticed the seats are down in your van this morning,” Awesomez snickered. “Is there some possibility you’re going to attempt to bring a llama back in the van on a ferry? Do they allow llamas on ferries in Washington?” She said as she took a sip of her morning coffee the wind blowing as the boat sped across the bay.

 (Awesomez on the ferry)

 

 (me)

     “It’s not a llama, it’s just a big dog. An exotic giant breed dog, Tibetan I believe. ”

     “I see,” she said as we took in the spectacular blue sky the wind whipping our hair in ninety-eight directions.

     When we drove off the ferry we head out of Port Townsend. “You mean you don’t know how to get there? We’re just supposed to look for a car on the side of the road?” Awesomez asked incredulously.  I hadn’t told her this information, as she can be a little excitable. This was a need to know basis operation. She was also unaware at this point that if we didn’t find the llama of my dreams we were headed another hour or so south to one of the places they filmed “Twilight”. I figured I’d spring that on her later – if necessary.

     “She said she’d be there, just think of this as an adventure,” I said. Soon after we spied a car lurking on the side of the road. The window slid down,

     “Follow me,” she said and obediently, I fell behind her car. We wound up a rutted dirt road into the hills.

     Bouncing around in her seatbelt like a rag doll Awesomez noted, “This is uhhhh way uhhh more remote than yourrrrr house.” And then, on cue, the forest opened and a lovely very suburban looking house sat in a clearing.

     I parked and we got out greeting our newest llama-lady, Mikie.  Without a lot of excess chitchat we head down the hill to the barn. Along the path we met a muddy old light brown dog with a limp who decided to allow us to continue.

    As a bevy of llamas came into view, but one llama stood out. She was tall and goofy looking. I liked her immediately. They were all dark chocolate brown with various markings. I stood there hopeful.

   (Masquerade- beautiful but not for me)

   (Never and Belle)

    “This one right here is Belle, she’s the proven herd guardian,” Tim told us. Sometimes you get what you hope for and this was one of those times. I couldn’t help smiling – Belle – maybe she wouldn’t mind Annabelle.

    After she was haltered I took Annabelle for a little get-to-know-you-walk. The walk went ridiculously well. Annabelle and I were like two old friends.

     “She’s really taken to her,” her owner, said to Awesomez as I walked by, “I’m kind of amazed.” Annabelle was giving me tickly llama kisses on my face.

     “She’s really good with animals,” I could hear Awesomez singing my praises.

(not a fancy edited video but. it's better than nothing?)

 

     “Considering how things are going I think we have a match,” Mikie said suggesting Belle might just hop in the van with me. We all walked over to the Odyssey to give it a try. I got in the back holding the lead rope. Annabelle peered in considering the situation. She stood there eyeing me wondering what I was doing. Sadly, Belle decided she really wasn’t up for a car trip and so I walked her back and put her in her pen with her friends. “You’re my llama.” I whispered to her. She nibbled my ear with her soft llama lips.

 (the old dog, Stacey and Belle with my Honda Odyssey)

   (Belle - kooky and sweet - now also known as - Miss Annabelle Lee)

When we were driving away, Awesomez said, “you love her don’t you?” I nodded surprised at how I felt. Who knew I was going to love a llama? Love is funny, you never know when it’s going to find you.

 

November 3rd The French Connection

 (Porcs dans une couverture -Norton and Midge do - pigs in a blanket)

Dearest Daddy, 

     Bonjour. I am sorry about this year’s Notre Dame football team but I suppose you're getting used to it. And I hear the cold Paris autumn is intolérable.  I know I’ve been unusually silent since the spring, and I know too it makes you feel disconnected from everything that’s going on here. Again, I’m sorry. Forgive me if I repeat myself, but I’m just going to give you a broad update on what’s been going on.

 L'actualité:

    Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been on a big life improvement kick. As you know, it started with the around the clock renovations on the house. I just couldn’t take it any more – the constant mess, projects everywhere. It consumed me – and frankly, I went to and from school, Home Depot and Lowes. Alexis and I worked as I’ve said before, late into the night. Day after day after day.

 

(achem - my dirty little secret - the laundry basket of unopened mail - Awesomez is helping me - correction forcing me to open- ok I'm still lying she's opening it and I'm standing next to her)

 

 

(Alexis works and works and works)

    Then Lisa and Lindsey moved in and the renovations that weren’t finished came to an abrupt standstill. Even now, pieces of window casing and crown molding stacked in the game room. But it was time to prepare for the fair.

     Honey became the focus. We had to jar and then we had to buy shelves to put the jars on. Banners were designed, and created, business cards, t-shirts tables, tablecloths, infomercials, etc. Awesomez labeled day in and day out. The fair came and went. 

 

    Sales from the fair were underwhelming. It was exhausting trying to compete with deep fried Oreos™. The problem we face is that true honey lovers don’t like you to “do” anything to their honey and consequently, they don’t appreciate the idea of the Stingers™ line. Unfortunately, people who really like it don’t want to try it, because they think they don’t really like honey enough. I’ve been racking my brain how to overcome this problem and I keep thinking about the Life cereal campaign “Hey Mikey! You try it.” Moms were supposed to think it was healthy, but kids were supposed to think it was tasty.  

  (Honey packages -almost ready for mailing- we use hay - it's environmentally friendly - it smells good when you open it and we have a whole lot of it on hand)

   (Henry mailing his honey)

    A few stores are carrying it now and it seems to be selling, but we really need an endorsement from someone whom people admire, a food editor or someone. If only Ellen liked spicy food. Who knows? Maybe she does. Perhaps I’ll send her a jar. We did just get accepted as a member candidate to the National Association for the Specialty Food Trade, which means we may be going to their Winter Fancy Food Show in January. It’s in San Francisco and though it won’t be cheap, I think it’s the best way to help launch Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey™ and Stingers™. Oh and by the way, we’re just now coming out with a new flavor! The Naughty Nana™. It’s a ginger/pepper blend. I can’t wait for you to taste it when you come in January. Chris says it’s his new favorite.

 (getting ready to launch)

     School started and life became complicated. Awesomez and I were trying to juggle the kids, school and everything else. Lindsey is very teen and thought living on the farm was fine in the summer, but it hampered her social life. So after much discussion, Lisa and Lindsey found an apartment in town near school. It was definitely the right decision. They have two dogs (Angel and Tasia- as in “Fantasia”) and neither got along with Irish. This made living in the house a bit more of a circus than usual. And having them in town is handy. I can go and spend the day at their apartment learning QuickBooks™  (a bookkeeping program) and not have to stay at a coffee shop all day. Awesomez can drop off or pick up something for me so it’s great in a lot of ways. Awesomez and I are actually spending more time together than when we were living together. I feel as though I got my friend back. Besides, blending two families isn’t easy. Heck, living with anyone isn’t easy, especially, since she's about as fanatic about football as you are. 

   (Awesomez and I work at taking the top fence post off - around the entire pasture - Alexis' great idea to save money and still be able to build a new section-Brilliant!)

    The truth is though it hit me hard they were going to leave; I’d worked so long for them to arrive and spent so much time preparing. I had this picture in my head of snowy evenings with us around the fire watching some old movie. Alas, that was not to be. Lindsey won’t watch old movies. Awesomez is so allergic to pet dander she could barely sit on the sofa, proving life isn’t always a Christmas card. Selfishly, I’d also imagined Awesomez would be there to help me with all the winter stuff. 

     As luck would have it, just about this time Alexis mentioned he was looking for a place to spend the winter. His situation was coming to a close and he needed to move on. So without much hesitation I offered him the attic “penthouse” and he gladly accepted. We worked out a rent/work agreement and are happily preparing for winter getting heat lamps, checking water heaters and putting in wind blocks. There’s so much to repair on the loafing shed in the pasture. The little cows have pushed down planks all over the place and the round bale feeder leaks like sieve.

   (back in my coveralls again - cleaning out the barn from Sir Edward's mischief)

    I can’t tell you what a relief it is to come home and find something done that I didn’t do. Alexis has already reorganized the barn and prevented an electrical fire down at the pump house. It seems my cracker jack former contractor didn’t make sure the wiring down there was done properly and we had an accident waiting to happen. The water stopped one evening when I wasn’t home and Alexis went to investigate only to smell the smoldering. He changed it out and prevented a disaster. 

     Speaking of shoddy workmanship, my sink in the kitchen has sunk again. I don’t understand why, but I guess the guys who put in my new counters and sink never built the proper support beneath it. So the sink has separated from the counter again by about two inches – This is the second time in less than three years. Bless his heart Alexis is fixing that today. While I steal away this precious time drinking coffee and writing you. C'est la vie.

     In addition to everything else, we’ve been asked to video document almost everything that goes on around here for a project. I feel a bit silly on camera, but I’ve been trying to comply. The idea is to inspire interest in Fort Flashback and the colonial living history camp. I know Dad I still dream. Rêver le rêve impossible. Perhaps the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree and all of that.

     I haven’t slept well in months, which has been taking its toll on me. There is a reason why sleep deprivation is considered a form of torture. It’s the coyotes. My friend, Anna who has a turkey farm has lost a huge portion of her heritage turkeys this year. I worry every time I hear howling close by. During the day I worry about Frank, Brad, Silence and Alice - my silly turkeys and of course, Louise, my one kooky chicken. Norton and Midge seem to take care of themselves, but a pack could definitely take them if they tried. So I’ve been thinking seriously about getting a llama. I know, I know, another animal? And it’s not colonial. Although I can rationalize with the best of them and the llama actually originated in North America millions of years ago before moving to South America - so actually it's Pre-colonial. Right? Anyway, I’ve struggled with this day after day turning the options over in my head.

    The thing is Miracle had just quit working. It seems this isn’t uncommon for donkeys they seem to work about two years and then retire. I guess she’s not unlike a lot of women, she fell in love and quit her job. What can I say? She’s an ass. Then of course, there’s Irish, but frankly he’d rather be curled up watching “Dancing With The Stars” than living outside guarding animals. So the only other choice is a llama. What with winter fast approaching and darkness being the order of the day, coyote attacks become more and more likely.

 (just a little baby bear in the middle of  Mosquito Lake Road -)

 (a baby bear we saw on the way home- it was no bigger than Vivian and all alone - I hope Mama was close by)

     If you can imagine, the nights are worse. You see, Lucky is still lame and I’m afraid they could easily take her down. I can’t imagine what a slow terrible death that would be.  Irish does alert me to any trouble. So almost every night I get up and listen at the window to hear how close they are. If they are in fact, in the pasture I put on my coat and go down in the van. This happens so many times a night I’ve taken to sleeping on the sofa with Irish so I can get up quickly.

   (Healthy Lucky)

    I don’t’ know if you remember Lucky – she’s one of the little Irish Dexters I got from Pixie Forest Farms. She’s red like Gnatalie, Petite’s daughter and Gnatalie’s cousin. She’s a sweetie with a curly hairdo. Somehow last winter she injured her leg. I had the vet out last spring, but and he couldn’t find anything wrong with her that can be fixed. He told me to try putting her in the barn. Isolating her so she could get better, but she became insane and broke out of the barn. She doesn’t like being alone. Then back when Alexis and I were working on the house we built a corral underneath the Kubota barn. I thought maybe she’d be ok being outside if the other cows were nearby and she could see them. She broke out of there and limped back down to the pasture. So for the warm summer I left her grazing in with Petite and Gnatalie. I locked Abe and Andy out and let them roam the hills. The vet said they could try to mount her and that would be the end, so they contentedly roamed. For a while I thought she was getting better, but she isn’t. In fact, she’s atrophied so much on one side she looks strange. I fear she won’t last the winter. I don’t think she can maneuver through the mud and I can’t imagine what will happen with the snow and the ice. I’m looking for a sign that it’s time to put her down.

 (Lucky just balancing. She doesn't walk much at all anymore)

    Strangely, Henry, Tom and I are actually getting used the idea of butchering her if she does need to be put down. At this point after so many discussions, we feel throwing her away would be a sin, especially in these economic times. This has led me to think of Maryruth often. I don’t think I’m where she is, I don’t think I could just butcher Lucky to eat her, but I think if I have to put her down, I think I’ll be ok with it. What the heck is happening to me? Am I really a farm girl or what? The whole thing makes me want to crawl in a hole and go for a pedicure. If it weren’t for the money.

   (Henry - the other guy)

    On a different note, Henry got in a fight after school with a bully. I was extremely proud of him as he was protecting his friend, Dylan. I guess as usual it was over some girl. The bully thought Dylan had said something derogatory. He and Henry had been trying to avoid the kid during the day, but persistence paid off for the bully and he finally cornered them on the Village Green in Fairhaven. ( It sounds so Boston Massacre) Anyway, Henry said something right out some Clint Eastwood movie like "You'll have to go through me, first..." and the bully took him at his word disabling our hero with a blow to the neck. The bully was no stranger to street fighting. Henry on the other hand brought a knife to a gun fight.  He had a perforated eardrum, a black eye, a chipped tooth,bruised ribs and a shattered ego. A vacationing pediatrician saw the whole thing and gave me the details. Chris was closer, left work and picked up his nephew who was embarrassed he hadn't even really gotten in a good swing.

    He's been prohibited from playing his horn while his ear healed, but in any case he is probably giving up band this year. He’s going to finish his third year, but doesn’t really think it’s his thing. His ear has healed and he is back playing but he has informed me it’s not his dream. "I'm just not another Grandpa Horn..." Frankly, I’m just glad he stuck with it this long and hope maybe he’ll want to pick it up again in the future. I know he has your musical genes but honestly I can just about tell the difference between the piano and drums.

    Henry’s turning into a teenager before my eyes. He’s not as helpful as he once was without my occasional screaming. And you know I can scream when the occasion calls for it. Toby’s going through the same thing with Dean. Dean is doing well in school and has a girlfriend – Her name is Fredleynn (that’s correct - Fred- a – lynn). He took her to the Burbank High Homecoming Dance where they had their first kiss “Right in front of the principal,” according to Dean. However, a real teenage boy Dean has been completely disregarding all rules of the home. He disobeyed Toby and left the house for school at 5:45AM in the dark to go to the park. She went ballistic. He doesn’t seem to be able to comprehend the danger he could be in alone in the park at that time of the morning and she doesn’t know why he would do this. We’re worried about someone taking advantage of him and he of course thinks he can handle anything. One night Toby came home from shooting “90210” and found Dean engrossed in some program with jelly all over the carpet. She said recently her head spins around on a normal basis and she is not exactly sure whether she goes completely Linda Blair. The smart money says she does.

 (Dean and his girlfriend)

     Henry hasn’t gotten that bad, yet - but he gives up on every chore without really trying. I never would have watched Mom do the kind of work he let's me do without helping. I brought the hammer down pretty hard the other day and I am seeing an enormous improvement. Just to make sure I know he's really, really trying to help out, he gives me a running dialogue as he does his 'good deed' Yesterday for instance I heard: “Gee, look there’s a box of my mom’s things that have tipped over. I think I’ll pick them up without being asked and set them somewhere out of the way so the dogs don’t knock it over again…” ETC. He’s a pain, but generally amusing so I still give him dinner.

     Eying him the other morning, as he was pulling clothes of the top of the dryer and getting ready for school I noticed his clothes were way too small and fit like Jethro Bodine. We don’t get the hand-me-downs we used to from Trevor being all the way up here, so I’m going to have to go out and get him some bigger clothes. Otherwise, Quinn will inevitably go on and on about how socially unacceptable Henry is.

     Quinn is actually trying to be helpful in her own teenage way. She is turning out to be a pillar of morality. I guess one of her friends is going down a bad path and she told her she couldn’t be friends with her if she continued doing some of the things she was doing. Quinn’s response when the girls asked her just to accept her and not judge her was, “I can’t be friends with someone I can’t respect.” I have to say I don’t think I would have  had the insight to respond like that at her age.

    When I ask Lisa about her she responds with “You know, Quinn is lovely and I adore watching her play volleyball. I sit in the stands and cheer for my daughter, but the moment she comes over and starts criticizing my hair and clothes and tells me to stop embarrassing her, I remember I have a teenager.”

   (the eggs we learned how to do from Jim Roman - Chris's friend)

    Oddly, we skipped Halloween this year for the most part. Oh, Henry wore a costume to school of course. He said to me one day Winnie the Pooh had an eating disorder, Piglett was OCD, Eyore had clinical depression and Tigger had ADHD - so that was the perfect costume for him. We had planned to do it up, but I just couldn't get it all together. Tom flew in and we went to the Donaldson's and learned to paint Ukrainian eggs. On Halloween we worked as a family on our gingerbread competition. The one at the Bellingham Ferry Terminal. This year we're finally going to enter. Tom’s been working on the mock-up and mechanics.  I’m researching everything from the best gingerbread recipes for construction to icing for cement. Henry's been a baking fool. We’re going to go big! Everything has to be ready for Thanksgiving weekend when we'll assemble.

 (Lovely Lauren, Quirky Quinn, Lizzy and our little Lindsey)

 (Henry as T-i-doubleg-ger)

(Phoebe in the black widow) costume Lisa made for her)

    Thanksgiving is quickly approaching and I’m having a houseful. Toby and Dean are coming so is Laura Miller, Ayumi (Henry/Quinn and Phoebe’s babysitter) and her daughter, Awesomez and Lindsey, Alexis of course Team Donaldson and Nana – and maybe Mike. You’re probably wondering about Mike. That would make two of us. He has completely dropped off the face of the planet. I have not spoken to him since September. I got one email confirming he’s not dead. He doesn’t call back he doesn’t write. I know money’s been tough and work has been hard. He hurt his back, which forced him to walk awkwardly causing his knee to act up. I don’t know much more than that. We’re all worried and have no idea what he’s doing or whether he’ll show up to Thanksgiving or not. 

     To answer the question I know is on your mind – NO, I’m not working at the Everybody’s Store, but I did apply for quite a few positions on including an assistant director at a daycare, a cleaning woman and a cake decorator. The assistant director position pays less than the cleaning position. I sent pictures of my Easter cookies and Phoebe’s birthday cake for the bakery job. Surprisingly, I got called back for interviews on all three so who knows what’s going to happen. Lisa is concerned about me getting the cake decorator job before we enter the gingerbread contest. She says if I get it we might have to switch to professional category. I told the woman I’ve never ever decorated cakes professionally, but she seemed to like my samples so I’m excited.

(Thankfully the other woman does the baking - and Lisa shouldn't worry professional-shesmesional - I still burn all my cookies - timer or not)

     Stay tuned, you never know what’s going to happen next. . .we’re not sure if Midge is expecting piglets.

   (is Midge craving pickles?)

    Adieu pour maintenant, je vous aime,

 

    Denise

    p.s. Although Vivian is limping from the osteosarcoma, her quality of life is much better than I expected. I don't know how long she'll last, but she's older than Josephine or Gladys. In fact, she will be ten February 1st (and Luther 11 Irish twins) and I am grateful she is doing so well - here's a peek

 

p.p.s. At least the Lakers are winning.

September 7th Love Never Dies

 (Henry and Lindsey -off to the first day- Princess Lindsey is not a morning person.)

     The long-awaited first day of school started out kind of drizzly. Henry couldn’t find his new blue Quicksilver™ shirt or his contacts. Lindsey complained about  her hair frizzing up.Everyone was tired.  It being the first day and all Awesomez and I both went along for the ride. 

 (Lindsey feeling a little bit better about her hair and anxious for the first day of high school)

    The drive went smoothly and by the time Awesomez and I got home, the sun was shinning. She went in to have some eggs while I stood on the porch with Irish. I closed my eyes and listened. I could hear the sound of cows munching on grass in the pasture. I could actually hear their teeth grinding the grass. The methodical chewing was hypnotizing so I just stood there with the sun on my face listening as Irish bat my leg with his shaggy tail. One of my best friends was having emergency heart surgery because of rip in the first layer of her aorta. As I watched and listened to the animals peacefully in the yard grazing, wandering and snorting I felt calm and full of hope. 

 (Lloyd hanging with the boys)
 

    During the day, I puttered around doing things that needed to be done to keep Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey moving forward. We’d gotten our first online orders and I had to pack some boxes and get them out after school and before gymnastics. I waited for word about the surgery, but no call came.

    I opened a letter that began, “We love your clip!” It was from Kevin Macdonald about some film I shot, “summerday” being accepted for consideration in the movie “Life In A Day”, a Ridley Scott film. Ridley Scott and Kevin Macdonald are you kidding me? The only thing better would be if it was Caleb Deschanel but then again I’m biased. I was so excited I couldn’t believe it. Norton, Midge, Franklin and Lloyd could be at Sundance? Enclosed were releases and instructions on how and where to send the film. Thrilled beyond words I decided to send it immediately. Don’t put off ‘til tomorrow and all of that. Pulling up the rough cut I couldn’t believe my eyes. The footage wasn’t there. Gone. “source code missing” Frantically, I began searching the entire computer. Looking for hours until I finally realized it had been “replaced” due to a problem I had encountered when I putting together Henry’s 2nd Sweet Miracle Honey infomercial. Deflated, despondent and still worried about the surgery, I ate a multi-grain pancake to settle down. I was slurping down some coffee when I heard the geese go crazy just outside the front door. I have coyote hysteria so I slammed my “farm girl” cup on the stone counter and went running outside just in time to see the three remaining girls: Mabel, Linda and LuAnn coming around the porch from the garden to join Lloyd and Cleveland who were standing in front of the living room windows on the hill overlooking the pasture. I breathed a sigh. They were only playing their version of Marco Polo.

"Summerday" reprise

    The rest of day had slipped away and I unbelievably was already behind my own schedule on the first day of school. I had several errands to run before picking up the kids and as I glanced at the clock I wondered if I’d have enough time. Hurriedly, I packed up the car with Henry’s second lunch, a snack and his first dinner. Plus a peanut butter and Nutella™ sandwich for Lindsey, the honey, addresses, shipping labels etc as well as everything else I might need for the next seven hours or so. “Lisa, will you put the barn animals away?” 

    “I guess so, sure.” She called from upstairs.

    “If you don’t it’s ok, I just am worried it’s getting darker earlier”.

    “No I think I can do it.” Awesomez assured me.

    I checked my messages again. No word.

    In a rush I pulled the car back careful not to hit the geese who were all standing on the driveway blocking my van. I always worry since the time I ran Lloyd over accidently. That was a harrowing experience and I remain grateful he’s got such a forgiving body and limber neck. I honked for the geese to move their tail feathers and Lloyd accommodated me by waddling up toward the house.

 (Rat-bat - aka Bruno, far left Lloyd, Linda, Mabel, LuAnn and Cleveland)
 

    Collecting the kids from their various schools I explained,, “Look, I feel I should warn you before I snap. I am very fragile today so don’t mess with me. I’m waiting for word on my friend's surgery and I’m worried. Really worried. She means the world to me."

    “She’s going to be OK mom with as many “Hail Marys as you’ve been saying,” Henry reassured me. 

    “When you say a prayer, you don’t always get the answer You want,” I pointed out. Moments later, he and Lindsey were taking their mid-afternoon naps and I was alone again with my thoughts.

 (Henry sound asleep)

 (It seems the first day was harder than Henry thought- he's a little like my friend, Franz - who also can sleep ANYWHERE)
  

    Dropping Henry at gymnastics Lindsey and I headed over to see our friend Aaron at the FedEx. We chatted about how his 3 month-old, Owen Thomas was doing and how Ray, the Mayor of Bubble Blvd. still thought Tom was married to Awesomez. 

    “That’s Ray,” Aaron snickered to himself as he calculated the cost of each package. Eager to ship my first parcel I stood with Lindsey carefully filling in our customer’s name and addresses on the carbon forms. We about fell over when Aaron called across the store that “Instead of $9.00 for shipping it’s going to cost $75.00 to send the honey to Alaska”.

    "75.00 - that blows my mind!" Lindsey yelped.

    “Um we’re going to have to rethink this,” I said and Aaron nodded in agreement. We rushed off and made it to the bank just after they closed. Perfect.

    On the way home, the skies opened up and it began to feel like the Pacific Northwest again. I checked my messages about 18 more times and left 3 messages before we got home.

    The barn was closed which meant Awesomez had done her job. I was impressed. We walked in the house and I looked to see if there were any messages about the surgery. There was. “I just wanted to let you know I just found out the surgery went well. The stint is in and working.” Relief swept over me like a wave.

    “Hello?” Awesomez called as she made her way down the stairs.

    “We’re in the kitchen,” Lindsey hollered.

    “Where’s Henry?” She asked emphatically.

    “Why?” I asked. “Henry! Henry! Henry!” I yelled.

    “What?” came a muffled reply.

    “Where are you?”

    “Um Mom, I’m in the bathroom.” I looked over at Awesomez and raised my eyebrows.

    "He's in the bathroom."

    "With his computer," Lindsey added snidely.

    "I need to talk to EVERYONE together," Awesomez said in a somber tone.

    “Hurry up!” I called to Henry.

    “Hurry up?”

    “Yes! Hurry!”

    “I don’t know how to hurry,” he cried out.

    “Just hurry!” 

    “Mom! Really?”

    “Really!”

    “Oh my gosh Mom,” Henry said incredulously.

    “Forget him,” I said. “What is it?”

    “I want to talk to you. All of you.” She looked around nervously. I noticed for the first time there were tears in her eyes. Just then the phone rang. Lindsey, always at the ready grabbed it on the first ring.

    “Oh, hello Lisa,” Lindsey responded in her chirpy teenage voice. Almost as the words came out of Lindsey’s mouth, Awesomez who was striding across the floor grabbed the phone out of Lindsey’s hand, and said “hey Lis-,” as she walked out the back door closing it behind her leaving Lindsey and me staring at each other completely confused.

    When Awesomez emerged from the porch I couldn’t help but ask, “Who died? Someone died didn’t they?” She didn’t say a thing. I looked around the room, first for Vivian then Luther. “Where’s Luther?”

    “He’s right here,” Lindsey confirmed.

    “And finally Rat-bat?” Henry pointed to a pile of blankets. I knew Irish was on the porch. By this time Henry had joined us in the family room.

    There are moments in your life when you can just feel everything is going to change. This was one of those moments. 

    Awesomez took a deep breath “Just tell us,” I said quietly. She nodded and began.

    “I went out to put the barn animals away around oh I’d say about 6:00, right after I ate. I didn’t want to wait for dark because I knew it would take me awhile and I knew too they might be uncomfortable with me since they don’t really know me. Well, when I went outside I saw the geese by the barbecue and Lloyd wasn’t there.”

    “What?” I asked.

    “Lloyd! Not Lloyd!” Henry said distraught.

    “Oh my gosh, Momma are you sure? Do you know which one he is?” Lindsey said in disbelief.

    She went on, “Lloyd wasn’t there. He’s the one with the pink band around his leg right?” I closed my eyes. Awesomez hadn't stopped crying since she'd begun to speak. "I didn’t want to tell you this. I know how special he was to you. He wasn’t a goose he was a pet. So I went looking for him. I went down by the apple trees and the pasture. It was pouring rain. I walked out by the creek and the pond. I didn’t find anything.”

    “Not feathers? Or a body,” I asked as stoically as I could muster. I didn’t’ want to fall apart. I knew how hard this must be for her to tell me. After all I’ve delivered enough bad news in my time.

    “No, nothing. I must have looked for more than forty-five minutes. I figure he must have just been snatched by coyote in broad daylight.”

    “In broad daylight, that’s really bad.” I said the realization bubbling up. I couldn’t believe it. “He was here when I left this afternoon,” I said thinking of his fluffiness. His soft feathers and how he used to nibble at my neck.

    “Are you sure?” She questioned. "Was he here when you left?"

    “I’m sure, he crossed in front of the van. I saw all of them.” I could barely grieve for my friend, Lloyd, because even though he was gone now I had a barn full of animals I had to worry about. The coyote have now gotten three birds. They’re going to keep coming back picking them off one by one. Unless we do something,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes. Was he really gone? I hoped against hope he was just hiding. I thought of the time when he had lured Irish away from the rest of the gaggle. “I’m sure he lured the coyote away from his girls. He sacrificed himself for his family.” 

    “Poor Lloyd,” Lindsey said quietly. "Momma, I can't believe you're crying more than anyone. You don't even like the geese."

    "I know, but Lloyd was a huge personality on the farm. I don't even know the damn goats names still. Of course, I know Norton and Midge and Miracle, but Lloyd was special. He didn't bite, he was always friendly. And I was there when Denise ran over him. I could tell then she loved him. I've been crying since I realized he was gone. I can't stop."

    Funny thing was, I didn’t cry, nor did Henry. This surprised Awesomez who hugged me. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this. I didn’t want to call you and have you have to drive home knowing. I know how much you loved him. I really looked everywhere I could think of, but eventually I knew I had to put the rest of the barn away.” 

    Henry just sat there saying nothing. “You’re in shock,” she said softly. Henry replied,

    “I’ve experienced a lot of death” and just continued to sit there emotionless.  The room seemed to close in on me. I moved into the mudroom grabbed a jacket off a hook and stuffed my arms through the sleeves. It wasn’t until I was almost to the barn door that I realized I had a phone in my pocket and called Tom.

    “Lloyd, my sweet Lloyd was taken by coyote.”

    “Not Lloyd,” he gasped.

    “I know it’s silly to love a goose this way. He was just a dumb bird, but I really, really am so sad he’s gone. I can’t believe it. I guess that’s why I’m on my way to the barn. He was so soft and full of kisses for me.” 

    “It’s not silly. He’s always been attached to you. He followed you everywhere. He’s always cuddled in your arms, knocked on the door when he wanted you to come outside. He’s always been special.”

    “Maybe he got away,” I hoped. “I mean I know he’s dead, but I can’t help but hope. First Clara and now him. I don't think it's any accident the parents are gone.”

    “And that chicken,” Tom tallied. “I’m really disappointed in Miracle.”

    “Me too, but you know she’s changed. She foundered which means her legs are different. She’s wearing that muzzle which makes her more vulnerable. She’s outside at night fending off predators and not sleeping. And she has a huge amount of land to cover. She can’t do it all.”

    “I guess,” he conceded reluctantly. “We’ve just never lost animals like this before.”

    “I know. Things have changed. It’s the end of Camelot. I feel like the coyote are a blood-thirsty gang bringing a reign of terror over the farm. It may sound dramatic, but I mean it. I can’t let anyone out, of the barn. Frank might be next. The coyotes know they can get a meal here and it’ll be like we’re running a lunch buffet.”

    “You’re right. They’ll start with the birds, but that won’t feed a pack for long and the goats are just as vulnerable,’ he reminded me. 

    “I know.” I said putting my hand on the door to the barn. I didn’t want to go inside, but I had to. “I’ll call you later, I have to go in the barn now,” I practically whispered as I stepped inside.

    The barn was dark. Running my fingers along the weathered plywood wall I flipped on light after light. Tonight darkness was not my friend. Peering in the first pen I saw Frank and Silence huddled together. They were safe. The ducks were resting in a cluster. Safe. I took a double take. 1-2-3-4-5. One was missing. Looking up I saw some chickens fluttering about in the rafters.

 (Franklin and Silence in their pen)

 (the ducks with some rogue chickens)
 
     Finally, I walked over to the goat and sheep pen where the remaining geese were. Sitting in pairs Christina & Rachel and Riley & Alexander looked up at me wide-eyed. The sheep looked like glowing cotton balls in the far corner of the enclosure. I made myself look over at the geese. There was only one white goose now. I choked back a sob. Mabel, Cleveland, Linda, and LuAnn started honking at me. Cleveland stood up tall the way Lloyd always did. Tears started dripping. I hoped for a moment Awesomez had been wrong and that it was Lloyd in the pen. Fumbling with the chain to the pen I undid it and went in. Sitting on the ground I looked and my heart fell. It was Cleveland. 

I missed my friend. I missed the way he looked at me - he touched my heart that silly goose.  I knew the barn wouldn't ever feel the same. I had thought he'd be around for so many years to come. I felt I'd let him down somehow. Selfishly, I was so relieved I'd followed my instincts and asked Awesomez to put the barn away before dark. If I hadn't and I'd come home I'd have always wondered if I could have prevented it.  I knew I had to push past the loss. Lloyd had died to save his family and I needed to protect them now. All of the animals were depending on me. What I needed was a fence. Good I thought, now at least I had a plan. I would build a fence and protect my charges. A plan makes you feel in control. I needed to feel in control, especially as I heard the yips of the pack somewhere in the hills.

 (And then there were four)
 

    I locked up the barn and called Tom, “ There's a duck missing too. I think I know what we can do. We need a fence. If we had a fence down to the pasture then Miracle and Edward could be made to stay up close again and protect the remaining animals.”

    “True.” I could hear him thinking it through.

    “I’m sure Alexis would help me if I can get the wood,” I said confidently. “Now I just have to figure out how to get the wood.”

    I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking I heard Lloyd outside. I wondered if maybe he’d gotten away and was hiding. My sister said, “Maybe like in so many other sayings, there’s truth in ‘wild goose chase’ and maybe just maybe he got away.”

    The coyotes hooted and yipped and terrorized the pasture all night. Determined not to lose any more animals tonight, Irish and I hopped in the van with a flashlight and patrolled the pasture. I was worried about Lucky sitting lame in the field so vulnerable.Miracle was apparently on sabbatical.  With Irish to keep me warm and completely exhausted, I fell asleep on the sofa around 3:00AM.

    Awesomez woke me with sad eyes and cup of hot coffee. This was a new day. I looked outside by the barn doors - just in case. But sometimes prayers aren't answered the way you want.

August 30th Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

    Having the immune system of an elementary school teacher is a little like being the veteran of germ warfare. I rarely get sick. In fact, when I do get sick, I generally end up in the hospital because it takes a world-class germ to take me down.  

    So today, when my stomach started to tighten, and I felt weak in Target, Henry was shocked. We made a radical decision not to go to gymnastics and instead stopped off at my sister’s so I could rest on the sofa. Phoebe brought me tea and Quinn covered me with a blanket.

    Eventually, I felt better and we drove home. I rested some more, sipped some tea and chatted with Toby on the phone about Dean and the troubles at Burbank High. “I’ve got to go and put the barn animals away,” I said ruefully.

    “Can’t someone else do it for you just this once?” Toby asked incredulously.

    “Well, someone else did yesterday and the door to the sheep pen where the geese have been staying wasn’t closed all the way. It was open enough for a coyote to slip in and massacre the barn. I could let them do it, and they would, but I wouldn’t sleep all night and I’d end up going out there in the end anyway, and we’ve been having a lot of coyote lately,” I explained. "I worry enough about the little cows in the pasture. Miracle and Edward look like Equine Zombies. They sleep all day I guess because there are is so much predator activity lately."

    “I get it, well you go before it gets too dark”. 

    Lindsey and I slipped on shoes and jackets,  considered a flashlight, but decided against. When we opened the backdoor, Vivian, Luther, Tasia, Angel and Rat-Bat came tumbling out with us. Irish was as usual banished to the backyard – still nursing a bum knee.

    “Can they come with us?” Lindsey asked. “Angel loves the barn,” she chirped.

    “Sure why not?” I said as hovelled along. I was not in a mood to make many decisions. I was just getting through this, as my stomach aching to the point that my forehead was dewy.

    First as ever, we put the chickens away. “One’s missing. We only have six Dominiques,” Lindsey reported.

    “Are we missing a hen or a rooster?” 

    “A rooster.”

    I worked on making a barricade for the broken door stacking up wood and a wheel barrel. We called the pigs in and changed the water in the turkey bucket. “What are those dogs barking at?” I called as I shut the duck pen.

    “Nothing. Angel is just barking at Irish,” Lindsey answered. 

    Together we put the geese in the pen they’ve been sharing with the sheep and goats since the ducklings were hatched. “Uh, Denise you know we’re missing a girl,” Lindsey noted.

    “Maybe she’s sitting on a nest somewhere,” I said hopefully. We'd never lost an animal to a predator other than a dog, that is until now.

    “Are you still going to sell three of them?”

    “I can’t decide. I know they’re safer in a bigger gaggle. Together they walk to the pond and if there are only three I wonder if Lloyd will become aggressive. I’d hate that.” 

    “Me too.”

    I went just outside the big barn doors by the hose and was about to fill up the duck water bucket when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The dogs were gone and I could hear the terrifying yips, barks and howls of a coyote pack. The sound was so close they had to be just beyond the stand of trees behind the barn. Frantically, I began looking around and calling, “Bruno! Vivian? Angel! Luther? Bruno! Tasia!”  I didn’t see a dog in sight. They were all gone. “Bruno!!” I screamed knowing he would be the first to go. And to my surprise he came bounding into sight on the crest of the hill. “C’mon boy! Come here!” And again to my surprise he did. 

    By this time Lindsey was by my side terrified her eyes wide. “Grab him Linds,” I commanded. 

    Obediently, she leaned over and began grasping for his collar, “I’m trying! He keeps darting away!” She screamed desperately, almost in tears as the coyote yips and howls filled the darkness. “They’re so so close!”

    “They’re right behind those trees over there. Up the hill. I’ve never known them to come so close except when the goats first came. Where’s Miracle? Why isn’t she doing anything?” I wondered if she was up the hill. I didn’t hear her anywhere.

    Lindsey kept trying to get Bruno when we saw Angel come into the light. She hadn’t been up on the hill, but over by the woodpile hiding. “Thank God. That’s two, get them in the house,” I told her as she started for the porch. 

    “C’mon Angel this way,” she begged.

    “Vivian! Luther! Tasia!” I yelled in my most authoritative voice racing up the hill toward the beehives knowing lives depended on it. There was no way I was going to let my dogs be torn to shreds by a pack of coyote. 

    Vivian would normally be a formidable opponent, but the bone cancer has weakened her and made her vulnerable. “Not like this!” I screamed and kept running up the hill forgetting my pain. Just then, I saw her appear out of the darkness of the trees. Barely visible except for her brown markings, but I knew it was her. She pounced toward me wild from the shrill yips surrounding us like an evil film score. “Lindsey! Call Vivian!”

    “Vivian! Come here Miss Viv!” She said in a shaky sweet voice. And again, to my surprise Vivian complied. I ran back down as Henry appeared on the porch with his bb gun. 

    “What’s going on?” He yelled. “What are you guys yelling about?”

    “Coyote!” We answered in unison.

    “Help Lindsey get the dogs in! Does anyone see Luther? I don’t think he would have gone up the hill.” 

    “He’s not here,” Henry called back. The yips seemed closer and more frenetic. Time was slipping away. I had no idea where Tasia was or Luther.

    I thought about how coyote hunted. Pack hunters, they’re shrewd. One will usually lure a dog by getting it to chase it into an awaiting pack. Then surrounding the dog, the pack would tear it to shreds. Luther, old, white and not very fast would be an easy target. I grabbed a long beanpole out of the garden and began running up the hill again. I was gong to smack some coyote. Then halfway up again I wondered if I should hop in the van and drive around so I could pick him up and put him in the car if I had to. Then as if in slow motion I saw his velvety ears flopping up and down as he too came out of the forest. Relief came over me like a wave. “You’re alive! Come here you dumb basset hound! Don’t you know you’re an easy snack?” Turning I yelled, “I’ve got Lu! Call him. Does anyone see Tasia?”

    “NO! We can’t find Tasia anywhere! Denise, she’s old,” Lindsey called tearfully. “Do you think she’s up there?” I did think she was up there. 

    Once again I went toward the van, but hearing the unyielding yips and calls from the pack I grabbed the beanpole once again and went charging up the hill. 

    “What is going on out there?” Awesomez called from the attic.

    “Coyote right behind the barn!” I called back. “They’re only about a hundred feet away in the trees!” Even as I was yelling I could hear the relentless yipping of a frenzied pack.

    “Where are you going?” Lindsey screamed.

    “To get Tasia!”

    “I’m coming with you!” Lindsey called behind me. 

    “Then grab a beanpole so you have a weapon!” And to my surprise, she did. Lindsey, the princess who screams at the mere sight of a dragonfly getting too close. The Lindsey, who is upset by the very existence of goosepoop. The Lindsey, who is terrified by bees. This Lindsey had grabbed a beanpole and was right behind me headed into the darkness filled by a pack of at least six coyote. We were just approaching the beehives when we heard Awesomez call out.

    “Tasia is here! She was by the back door! She’s here! She’s here!” “That’s great!” We slowed down and stopped our beanpoles dragging on the ground as we walked back down the hill. It was then that I realized, “Well, my stomach doesn’t hurt”.

    Henry like the cavalry reappeared with his bb gun and began shooting warning shots up in the air to try and scare the coyote pack. I was skeptical. The shots weren’t loud, but to my surprise, they worked. It was quiet for the first time.

    

    

August 23rd A Fair To Remember

 (the garden gate)
 

    Summer days turned into summer nights in a blur with out one minute of lolling around. From the moment Awesomez unloaded her last non-stick saucepan and corresponding spatula from her U-Haul we did nothing else but get eat, breath and get ready for the Northwest Washington State Fair. 

 (A Washington summer sunset - about 10:15PM)
 

    Months earlier I had naively decided, with encouragement from everyone in the family, to get a booth at the fair and debut Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey. 

    The booth space itself cost $620.00 and then of course you had to still pay for entrance and parking – for everyone who worked your booth. There was an additional $80.00 Health Department permit to give out samples and I needed another certificate for another $10.00 to actually serve the samples. This is in conjunction with yet another permit for $110.00 from the Department of Agriculture. Naturally, The Fair required that everything look “professional” so we were going to have to have a banner made.  And per The Fair contract our product must be displayed in a pleasing manner. I began researching booth designs and came up with an idea. 

 (my booth design - OK so I'm not Tom, but you can kind of get the idea - the top is the banner, the bottom is a tablecloth - the things hanging will be bee facts)
 

    I took a picture of the barn from the porch and had it made into an 8 foot by 10-foot backdrop so our booth would feel like home. Of course, there were tables to get from Costco and the health department required an elaborate hand washing station. I had to purchase a 5-gallon thermos and have the push button spigot replaced by a continuous flow spout. It should be noted that you can’t simply purchase a thermos with continuous flow spigot. They don’t exist. So I had to take it to Hardware Sales where three men worked on replacing the spigot. It did not go well and they had to replace the thermos with another from their inventory before they got it done.

(the picture from the porch for the booth)
 

    Meanwhile back at the farm, Aweseomez and I would wake up, take care of the dogs, cats and barn animal then load up the van with buckets of honey, various spices, sets of measuring cups, cases of jars, bags of lids, strainers, scrapers, bucket warmers, a cooler full of snacks, cups of coffee and the still sleepy kid and drive the 29 miles to our kitchen so we could begin our day. 

 (Sick Bay - Tabitha scratched her cornea and Irish has a hot spot)

 (Silence thinks she's a wild turkey)

 (Norton deals with the heat)

 (trying to isolate a perpetually injured "Lucky" - who continues to be lame - and sadly - shows no signs of recovery- AND -yes Maryruth we've thought of hamburger)
 

    Donning aprons and bandannas we’d start jarring up some honey. Awesomez selflessly played Laverne to my Shirley. I had the glamour job as Miller the killer filler – of jars. I’d run the filling station weighing each jar and Henry/Lindsey or Phoebe would wipe each jar down then Awesomez would inspect their work closing it and finally putting it back into the case. Tirelessly she would later put the shrink-wrap safety seals on one by one with a heat gun and label each jar meticulously. “It’s your product, they’ve got to be perfect,” she insisted bleary-eyed.

 (Awesomez and Phoebe work in the kitchen)

 (Smiling like the village idiot - a perfect Shirl- I am testing the honey temp - so it warms up and can be worked with, but doesn't go over 120 degrees)

 (A happy Laverne- Awesomez goes Gangsta- the girl can clean a kitchen - all that restaurant and perfectionist crud comes in handy)

 (empty 8ounce jars washed and  ready to be filled -requisite coffee pot in background)

 (Phoebe - before donating her hair- again- this time through Pantene for children who need wigs during chemotherapy)
 

 (filling Phoebe's Fireball)

 (I feel pretty - Henry and Lindsey -clowning around in the kitchen)
 
 
   (The dining room - better known as the warehouse - These boxes are stacked and re-stacked as Awesomez puts them through their stations -labels and safety seals)

 (honey sticks everywhere! - perfect for watching TV- there is to be NO free time)

 (all the Fair stuff-)

 (Awesomez - sleeps on the sofa surrounded by furry friends - you have to hand it to her - she's allergic and asthmatic, but she keeps going!)
 
 
     Exhausted and sticky, over 1600 jars and thousands upon thousands of honey sticks later we ran out of time and honey. 

    The shirts were dyed and Tom had painstakingly put the logo on, the tablecloths ironed and the racks were ready to assemble. The backdrop had arrived despite the first one being ruined in transit making a reprinting necessary. Luckily, we’d allowed enough time. Although, Henry did manage to shoot not one but two infomercials(click on the links and you can view them) on how to use Grumpy Grandpa (cayenne & garlic) and Phoebe’s Fireball (chipotle & cinnamon) in our kitchen not everything got done. We’d planned on having a lovely basket to raffle off and a digital photo frame with pictures from the farm, but both of those projects with a few others sat half finished on the dining room table.

 (Henry, Chris and "Pops" - Rory Donaldson - Chris's dad - waiting to watch "Hairspray"- Awesomez is in the row behind)

 (New do and looking all grown up-Phoebe was in a version of "Hairspray" for summer camp)

    The fair started on a Monday so Tom flew in on Friday night to be here for the set up. It seemed simple, but as “nubies” it took us almost three days to get it all together. Nothing quite went the way we’d expected it to go. In the sweltering heat, Tom started putting up the banner. Before we knew much about booths Tom had created a fabulous six-foot banner.  Unfortunately the booth width was 10 feet. Tom went to work rigging the banner; he got PVC and sprayed it orange. He made it one way then another, he tied it back to keep it from blowing in the wind, but in the end, he was never quite happy with it.

 (Awesomez in THE booth)
 

 (Mike, Henry and Tom start the set-up - putting my backdrop in place)

 (The racks are up and the honey arrives - with Awesomez)

 (Lindsey is hot)

 (Mike and Henry string lights)

 (Lindsey helps string lights)

 (The banner begins- Tom and Mike begin what will be a long process)

 (a motley crew - in the scorching Washington sun? Denise, mbs- Awesomez - all of our honey - Henry and Lindsey Rose)
 

 (Denise putting it all together)

 (the bee facts Tom cut into flowers)
 

 (Tom hangs the bee facts while Mike supervises)
 
 

 (The product is in place- www.henryssweetmiraclehoney.com)

 (tired and taking a break in the shade - Pea and me)
 

 (The hand washing station)

 (Tom taking a quick nap on a Home Depot run)
 

 (The booth with Henry and Tom is ready to go- bee facts in place, product -)

 (And here it is again - pretty close huh? I love it when a plan comes together)
 

    On the first day of the fair we got there early. Everything was just about ready. We simply had to fill the hand-washing thermos and put the various flavors and jars of honey out on the shelves, stuff the different honey sticks in their containers and we’d be ready for business. The thermos leaked everywhere, but there was nothing we could do. No amount of tightening helped. The thing leaked like a sieve. Naturally, it was the one thing we hadn’t tested. And we had no silicone or anything else to fix it – so moving on, we left a bit of water in the bottom and spirits high - turned on the calculator. Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey was open for business.

    The 100th anniversary of the Northwest Washington Fair opened promptly at 9:00AM. The attendance on the first day was usually 35,000, but the first day of the anniversary on a blazing hot sunny morning it was supposed to break records. Tasting spoons in hand we were ready for action.

    Awesomez did her best “Do you want to try something different?” (while I shoved a tasting spoon at them) Unfortunately, many people did not want to taste something different. They only wanted plain old honey.

    “Maybe I should ask them if they’d like to try the same boring old thing?” Awesomez lamented. Despite our best efforts by 3:00 we’d sold just three jars. However, we had sown the seeds for later and in the evening many people did come back and purchase.

    By the third day, although sales were still slower than we’d hoped, we had made some significant changes and learned a lot. Tom put up quotes we heard from tasters and we took down the cumbersome TV playing the infomercials. I had really thought the infomercials would draw some sort of attention, but that turned out not to be the case at all.  We moved some tables and changed our approach. And things started to click. We all beamed when we found out one of our previous purchasers had made stopping at our booth her facebook status. We'd made it to facebook!

    Not everyone at the fair is friendly. One woman, the wife of a beekeeper, walked over and reluctantly agreed to taste our recipe. She told us we couldn’t possibly have anything new – her husband had bees. Then she told us about her recipe for a raspberry preserve she made with a combination of honey and sugar before she tasted The Grumpy Grandpa Blend. When she put the spoon in her mouth her face changed. She quickly took out her spoon threw it down on the table and viciously screamed at us in front of a crowd of people, “You’ve ruined honey! Ruined it!” Turning she stomped away muttering, “that was disgusting,”.

    I stood there wanting to cry but not wanting to cry. We’d worked so hard, I was so tired and hot and disappointed and felt beaten down. Tom took over and moved on to the next customer while I stood dazed. Awesomez on the other hand, my big sister, chased the woman’s husband down and gave him shall we say - a stern talking to. The news of her encounter brightened the spirits of all of us.

    “It’s funny how one nasty person overshadows ten wonderful people,” my sister noted as she called in for fair updates from the vet clinic.

    The Fair it must be said was not all business. Clearly it was funnel cakes with powdered sugar, bbq sandwiches, and an amazing hypnotist named Tammy Harris Barton. The kids and Awesomez insisted I go to the show to get away from the booth for a while. I was resistant as I wasn’t much a believer in hypnotism. But Tammy made a believer out of me and almost all the crew at Henry’s Honey- except for Mike who had obstinately refused to attend the show.

 (Tammy Harris Barton- if you need some fun family entertainment - hire Tammy - you will not be disapointed)

     Tammy had a show twice a day everyday of the fair; so twice a day everyday of the fair, Henry would get hypnotized. At first when I heard about Henry I thought he was faking, but after seeing for myself I know he was not faking. A drooling mess he would plop over in a crowd going deeper every time. We now own three CDs of Henry and Lindsey falling under Tammy’s spell if only you could see Henry pretending to be a Pussycat Doll or Lindsey despite her best attempts to the contrary - jumping up and cheerleading every single time she heard Tammy say the word “Sports”.

    The kooky friends we made and endless laughs we had were unexpected. There was sardonic Aaron our new FEDEX guy – who was moonlighting working at a booth. He was our corner neighbor. Ross who disappeared regularly leaving Aaron to come over and man his booth was on the other corner. His booth was boy Nirvana. He had remote controlled helicopters and assorted gadgets which captured Henry’s attention all week. 
 (Mike poised for giving samples)

 (Chris working it)
 

    Gruff and seasoned Ray, the Mayor of our little community, with sports memorabilia was a former bounty hunter. He was for some reason certain Tom and Awesomez were married and wondered why Tom kept flirting with me. Across the way were our new chiropractor friends Kelly and his wife Erika and then there was our friend with the velvet paintings and Sabrina’s family with urban chicken coops. Our little corridor of booths was dubbed Bubble Blvd for all the bubbles “Bean” (short for Sabrina) flooded the area with – working under cover for Ross who was selling bubble guns. Ahh the life of a carny – or as Aaron says “Fairy, Denise, you are a fairy! Carny's work the midway”. I stand corrected.

 (Our happy crew - on the way to the fair in the morning Henry, Phoebe barely awake and Lindsey passed out)
 

    In the end, although we didn’t make our original goals I do think we had a successful fair. We gave out a lot of tastes and raised our brand awareness ten fold. Awesomez thought I was a wet blanket. She is the Henry’s Honey Cheerleader. “Are you kidding me? You have an amazing product and you simply have to believe! C’mon Mil snap out of it! You’re going to be a honey mogul! You HAVE TO BEE-LIEVE!”

    Although, I have my momentary doubts, I know she’s right. I do have to believe and Henry was asked to do an interview for the Bellingham Herald and those who liked either Phoebe’s Fireball or Grumpy Grandpa – loved it. 

    The fair was a great learning ground. We found that purists were not our target. They’d rather have plain honey and that’s that. Of course, we do have plain yummy honey, but that’s not our real niche. Moderate honey lovers – or people who don’t really like honey those are the ones that are open. They are the ones that like the idea of helping the bees and eating a natural honey product, but don’t’ cook with it and buy it in 5 gallon containers.  These were the people who thought we should send it to Oprah and wished us well. 

    Next, year I would do it differently and find a way to camp nearby. The drive back and forth was the proverbial last straw. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired in my life. I was more exhausted than sorority rush, or after nights of endless “foo-fing colored tissue” for Homecoming floats in college. I was more depleted than when I used to pull writing all-nighters or when Henry was sick as an infant. I suppose it was cumulative I hadn’t stopped in since we began the renovations. “Denise you simply don’t get enough sleep,” my sister said during a quick walk through the swine barn. “You should look at the brain research on sleep deprivation.” She insisted.

    “Only since April,” I protested.

    “Denise, you do realize that’s almost five months? Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

 (I am so tired, Tom left me while he went to the ATM near our parking space and I fell asleep waiting for him - this is at 9:00AM on the 5th day)
 

On the last night after Chris, Mike, Tom and I took the booth down,

 (Henry is so tired he fell asleep on the rack-- There's a Catholic joke in there somewhere)

 (And we're out of here - it being only 1:30AM)

 (The ferris wheel just shutting down)
 
 
  I drove home with Lindsey in Awesomez’ car. She’d left a few days earlier for her high school reunion. Tom and Henry were in the van while Lindsey and I were driving behind them when I realized I simply couldn’t make it home. I could hear my sister’s words echoing in my head and I pulled over to sleep. We were already on Mosquito Lake Road, but still I couldn’t make the last five miles. I saw Tom’s taillights slip around a turn and out of view. I knew Tom would be worried, and I knew I couldn’t call him because we’d already lost cell service, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to veer off the road and end up in a ditch. I woke up to the rain tapping the windshield. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep but I pulled onto the road and slowly inched the last bit home. Tom was standing by the gate waiting for us.

April 15th Like Father Like Son

(Henry's 2nd Father's Day - with Tom's tie and shoes)

    In order to be a hurdler or shot putter on the middle school track team, Henry had to have a physical exam on record and have the papers turned in by a certain date. Unfortunately, on such short notice, Henry’s very nice pediatrician Dr. Thompson, the one with the nice shoes was not available.

    “There is a visiting intern from Children’s who can see him,” The receptionist suggested.

     “Great, we’ll take the appointment,” I confirmed. “Oh and Henry’s voice has been gone for about a month now,” I added.

     “She’ll see him at 8:30AM and she can probably give you a referral to an ear-nose-throat,” the receptionist said as she hurriedly tried to catch another phone call.

     The next morning, as Henry finished the last of French toast in the car I remembered to warn him. “Uh forgot to mention, the doctor today is a woman. I didn’t think you’d really care, but I thought you should know,” I said matter-of-factly pulling into the deserted parking lot.

     “Huh, I hope she isn’t too pretty,” was the hoarse reply. I felt a smile creep across my face, but I turned my head and glanced in the side mirror.

    “I think it’s the same doctor we met a few months back,” I said.

     “Probably,” he said nonchalantly.

     The doctor and Henry chatted about his voice, gymnastics, track and his current height, his expected height, his dream height and his possible height. Then, the doctor said,

     “Henry, this is the embarrassing part of the exam. It’s at this point that I need to take a peek down your pants. Don’t worry, your mother’s here and it won’t be too embarrassing. Is that ok with you?” 

     Henry looked at me and nodded. The doctor did her exam, turned and said, “Oh you’re definitely in puberty”.

    When she left the room to get the information on the ear-nose-throat referral Henry turned to me, “Was it just me or did she sound impressed?” he asked with all the bravado of a burgeoning testosterone laden male. Not a trace of modesty in his voice. I just knew this was going to happen. It’s why I cried at the birth. He’s becoming one of them. I should have noticed the signs. He’s very interested in tools. He smells. He spends a disproportionate amount of time in the bathroom and holds the toilet in too much reverence.

     “Well, your father was a streaker,” I smirked.

 

 

 

 

April 11th Our "Q"

(I can not explain the lack of sound - except that Sony hates Macs)

 We’d barely checked into the motel after seeing the pigs, when Quinn pulled out a green box and opened it up.

            “Henry we’re going to get rid of that dark fuzzy thing above your lip. Right now!”

            Henry ran and hid behind the curtain while Tom flopped down on the bed. “ I like Margret Suzanne, but Henry’s suggestion of Midge suits her,” Tom announced.

            “Midge for the midget. I was called Gidget for a long time,” I reflected as Quinn pulled Henry from the beige curtains and into the bright sterile light by the long white counter. I looked over as she began pressing strips of wax across his lip and between his eyes.

“What’s with the eyebrows?” Henry demanded.

            “You’re on your way to a mono-brow. Girls hate that.” She’d uttered the magic words – girls hate that- and she knew it. I glanced at her. She was smiling knowing there wouldn’t be any more struggling; the spider had subdued the victim. “You need to wait a couple of minutes while it sets up,” she instructed.

            “He’s completely out matched,” Tom whispered. Nodding in agreement I settled in and watched in disbelief as the movie “Megladon” plodded along. To be clear, this is the type of movie you would only watch in a motel killing time. Or on a date in college, bringing to mind the second worst movie I’ve ever seen. “Q” a 1982 film about an overgrown flying lizard landing on rooftops in New York

  

            “Yeowwww!” Henry screamed like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

            “Oh stop it!” Quinn commanded looming over him. “I do this all the time. It just stings a little you’re a drama king just like your mom said”.

            “Mom!” Henry squealed.

            “It’s true,” I confirmed. 

            “It is,” Tom concurred, “but you do look red and splotchy”.

 (Q, the Winged Serpent)
 

He did look raw, and for a moment I thought of getting some ice from the vending machine, but by now it was the tail end of “Megladon” and I didn’t want to miss the part where the giant Octopus, his mortal enemy, which had thawed out of a glacier, strangled Megladon.

After the Octopus and Megladon predictably sank to the ocean floor for about six scenes, I thought we’d turn out the light and get some rest. We were here for Henry’s gymnastic meet. But no, it seems the only thing worse than Megladon is “Piranha” where the toothy little fellas get so big in South America they leap out of the water and eat helicopters. I turned over and drifted off as Henry, Tom and Quinn were screaming things like “Oh come on!”

“Doesn’t he think he’s going to be eaten?”

I woke up bright and early, got up and went to make some coffee. I opened the coffee pouch and placed the coffee pod in the tray, but when I went to pour water in the well of the coffee maker, I realized we didn’t have an actual coffee pot in the room. This couldn’t be. There was not a minute to lose. I threw my hair in a clip and I marched down to the lobby. Calmly as I could, without a morning cup of coffee, I explained the problem. The young girl smiled nervously back at me sizing up me and my mint green flannels. I could see she was worried she had a “situation” on her hands and quickly began searching for a carafe. I could imagine Quinn’s reaction to my pajama clad lobby appearance, but this was a desperate situation and after all I was presentable and my toes were freshly polished.

“I’m so, so sorry she said trying to manage me, you can have some of the coffee from the breakfast buffet while you wait. I’ll go to an unoccupied room and get you one,” she assured me. In the interim I did indeed pour myself a cup or two and grabbed one for Tom. The nervous girl with the bob did indeed return in a timely manner with a perfectly suitable glass pot and a couple of extra coffee packets. Whew. Crisis averted.

 (Quinn and Henry before the meet- Henry's face isn't that red - in this picture)
 

Henry began his meet with a bang. He got the highest score he’s ever gotten on floor. The next rotation he tackled his arch nemesis, the pommel and once again he received his highest score. Ever. Tom and I were busy calculating what he might end the day with if he just stayed even close to his average scores. But as I’ve learned recently, don’t count your turkey eggs before they hatch.

Henry bombed on rings getting almost two points lower than normal. Next was the vault. And he delivered, not his best, but pretty ding-dang good. I could hardly breathe as he began his parallel bar routine. I heard people in the crowd talking about the routine, but I was afraid to hope. It seemed good, really good as I waited nervously for the score. Good? When I saw Henry’s score flashed on the scoreboard in red lights I wanted to leap out of my seat. “That’s my boy who did that,” I muttered to myself. He’d gotten a 14.75. We were thrilled. Could this be happening? Could this be Henry’s meet? Tom began calculating All Around potential scores scenarios again. He’s always doing the math.

 

(perhaps it's time for a different video camera? Technical difficulties have plagued me long enough)

 (Henry doing his parallel routine)

“If Henry gets anywhere close to his lowest score on this event he’ll still get his highest All Around score ever,” Tom informed me. I was sure he’d be in the top three on the podium if he did that. But there I was counting my turkey eggs again. Henry did an incorrect sequence on the high bar because he was scared. He’d fallen a couple of weeks ago on the high bar and hit his feet doing his dismount. So despite our calculation, it was not to be, Henry ended the year in a heap of tears.

“I don’t even want to stay for the awards,” he lamented.

“You’re staying,” Tom laid down the law. “You’re going to support your team and you know you had a great meet for the most part. If you’d ended the day with your parallel routine, you’d be feeling great right now. I’m sure you’ll get something on p-bars,” Tom said pouring the daddy on.

“Hey, where are you and Quinn going?” Henry demanded as he saw us trying to sneak out.

“Mmm-um, we’re going to go and pick up the piggy’s while you and your father do the award thing,” I told him. As we made our way out of the gym, one of the mothers stopped me.

“Denise, is Henry OK? We were kind of worried about him when we saw the blotchy spots on his face. Is that from the pneumonia?” She asked concerned.

“Oh, no. He’s fine,” I said glaring at Quinn. “That’s nothing. Really,” I assured her as we escaped on our mission.

It was a maddening hour each way to get the pigs and there was no way around it. We tried a short cut that ended up being a long cut down one-way streets in Portland. However, with our trusty cell phone, Google Maps and my sister who’s been lost more times than any human being I know, we made it. “You better call Pea and Henry and tell them to get something to eat until we get back,” I instructed Quinn. You do not need to tell Quinn twice to make a phone call, it’s in her DNA, she gets it from her maternal side.

“Tom said Henry got six medals. One in every event except high bar. He got second in parallel bars. Some kid got a .1 higher then him, and he came in 9^th for All Around,” Quinn relayed.

“He must be feeling better,” I exclaimed relieved.

 (Henry - second place -parallel bars Level 6 - Region II)
 

“And HE didn’t want to stay for the awards,” Quinn mocked. “Ridiculous. He does look really red, don’t tell him I said that. Hey how about Barbara-Q? Get it? Barbecue, Barbara-Q," Quinn giggled at her own joke.

"I get it, and it is cute in a meat-eater-sort-of-way".

 The pigs turned out to be good travelers. The only sound you could here was "Hamilton’" snorting. It was silly to here snorting from a pig in my van as we drove through Portland.

“Are you kidding me, we’re going to put Irish in here too? Are you going to seduce him?” Quinn asked.

“What? Am I going to seduce him?” I asked flabbergasted. What were they teaching middle schoolers these days? What kind of talk was this?

“You know where you make him sleepy?” She said innocently.

“Oh, you mean sedate him. Yes, I am going to sedate him,” I laughed hearing Gilda Radner in the back of my mind, “That’s very different”.

We intently listened to or book while the kids rode with pigs in their lap’s most of the way. That is until we loaded the big boy, Irish. We’d called Jim at the border and he’d slipped Irish a mickey so he’d be nice and sleepy for the ride. 

 (Quinn and her lap pig)

 (The little girl and Henry ride home)

“He doesn’t even seem to notice them, The big boy is so tired and just wants to snuggle,” Quinn cooed. Then flatly, “Can we turn the book back on?”

“Sure,” I said as we headed north on the dark road. Everyone else fell asleep. Quinn hung in the longest trying to listen to the story. Tom kept forcing his eyes open every once in a while.

“You OK?” He’d ask, as he’d reach out and touch my arm. I was amused as I stopped for a cup of coffee at the Arco™ near Alderwood Mall. What was he going to do if I said “No,” he was certainly in no position to drive. As I drove along in the quiet of the night, Awesomez’s remarks crept back into my mind and irked me all over again. She’d said:

“Hamilton, Hammie? Like in ‘Toy Story’?” Like Hammie in Toy Story, Like Hammie in Toy Story.

“Toy Story! I am not going to have people think I named my pig after a character in “Toy Story”,” I said to no one in particular.

The tires crunched on the gravel as we pulled in to the driveway, Tom woke up like the dogs do when I get off the freeway. I hopped in and out and opened the gate. Tom got out after I drove in and closed it. Slowly we wound along the driveway in front of the pasture, as Tom sang softly holding my hand.

“And on this farm we have some pigs…” 

“EIEIO,” I crooned off key.

April 10th A Pig And A Poke

 (I run a flop house- Scarlett, Emmett, Alvin, Tabitha)
  

    Early Saturday morning, I got up before everyone else collected some eggs, brewed some coffee and whipped up a batch of maple, brown sugar French toast. We had to get on the road because we had an action packed day. There was a noon appointment to have our reunification lesson with public enemy number one, Irish, then we were meeting Mike for lunch before heading out to Sandy, Oregon. Sandy is just outside of Portland where Henry would be competing in the 5 State gymnastic Regional’s (Men’s Region II). Sandy also just happens to be the home of some cute little piggies - American Guinea Hogs. I’d arranged a “Farm Tour” so Tom could see if he liked them too. We’d gone last year to the same farm with Awesomez so Quinn, Henry and I were pretty sure we liked them already.

    First we picked up Quinn in Burlington at the Starbucks we used as a family meeting point then headed down toward Centralia where we were going to see Irish. The day had finally arrived for our canine college student to graduate.

    When we arrived, I was instructed to stand with my back toward Irish and when Jim walked up from behind me I was to take the braided leather leash, give Irish the command to “Heel!” and head out. There would be no “greeting” period no snuggling. We would simply set to work and let Irish know things had changed. I had an hour lesson on how to interact with my newly educated hound. While Tom, Quinn and Henry watched. Irish was not perfect, but neither was I. We both learned how to correct our mistakes. Henry couldn’t take the idea that he couldn't go up and hug Irish and so he went with Quinn to sit in the car.

  (Jim, me and the big boy, Irish)

 (Jim teaching me - the procedure)
 
     At the end of the lesson, I put Irish on a small rug in the reception area for a “thirty minute down” while we: Tom, Quinn, Henry, Me and Mike who’d arrived to join us for lunch, all got instructions about how to behave around the big boy. Irish all the while lay on the rug whimpering. He could see us plainly and had to constantly resist the temptation to leave his floor mat and walk in the room where we were all seated. This got to be too much for him at one point and I had to go and “correct” him by putting him back on the mat. When I returned, Henry had his head in his hands, his eyes watery.

     “I don’t like seeing you yank on him,” Henry responded to my quizzical look. It seems he and Grandpa Horn are kindred spirits when it comes to doggy discipline.

     “Henry he’s a big dog, he’s fine, but if you don’t get his attention, he’s not going to learn anything. Look at him now, he’s just fine,” Jim said firmly clearly not wanting his hard work to be undone by an overly emotional pubescent pre-teen. Henry wiped his eyes, nodded and looked away.

     Normally, owners pick-up their dogs when they take this instructional lesson. I would have loved to put the big guy in the back and left with him, but I couldn’t see taking him to the hotel this evening and leaving him in the car while Henry competed, so we arranged to leave Irish with Jim for one more day. Crying could be heard from the kennel as we pulled away. “Ohhhhh, the Big-un is confused,” Quinn whimpered. “He probably thinks we’re never coming back.” Henry stared at the kennel fence. He said nothing, but in my rearview mirror I saw him wipe away a tear.

     “But think how happy he’ll be when we come back tomorrow,” Tom urged parentally.

     On Jim’s recommendation we made our way to Country Cousins for lunch we passed pasture after pasture filled with various cattle. Quinn gazed out the window for sometime before speaking. “You know what I love about cows? Cows are my favorite animal because cows, no! I mean elephants!” She giggled at her own mistake.

     “What?” Tom shot back as he collapsed into laughter. “What did you just say?”

     “Well, I love how cows, I mean elephants will nurse another elephant’s baby,” Quinn informed us. Quinn an uncanny knack for saying something completely goofy providing us with endless amusement.

    "Oh Quinn, you're never going to hear the end of that one - it's almost as good the time you said you had six toes and were worried about the cost of pedicures." Henry whispered.

    "Whatever," Quinn harrumphed.    

 (Centralia, WA)

 (Pea, Quinn, Mike and - Henry as the dog)

 (Henry- the flower dog)

 (Tom and Quinn)
 

     After a delicious lunch of yak burgers (yes - yak burgers) with Mike the van was racing south again. Tom pushed the cd button and our murder mystery, “Caught”, resumed. Occasionally, someone would call to pause the story making a prediction or asking for a point of clarification but other than that we listened without interruption until we neared Sandy when Quinn moaned she didn’t want the story to be turned off.

    “You’re obsessed,” Tom accused. “Don’t you want to see the elephants? I mean pigs”. Tom teased.

    “Ha-ha, you’re so funny. I’m afraid we won’t finish the story before I have to go home. That’s what happened with that other mystery, “Down the Rabbit Hole,” she explained. “I never did hear the end,” her voice trailed off as we pulled into the driveway of Cascade Meadows Farm. “Oooooh! Look!” She squealed.

     “Piggies!” Henry yelled. “Do you think I’ll find another soul-pig?” he asked.

     “Any pig you talk your mother into taking home will become your soul-pig,” Quinn countered as they took off down the muddy driveway. Tom turned to me and gave me the I-know-we’re-leaving-here–with–a-pig-glance.

     “What you never know? I don’t even have a carrier. We might not want one,” I said in mock innocence. He arched an eyebrow my way and pulled his farm boots on.

     “And I’m a cow, I mean an elephant,” Tom mumbled.

  (Quinn, Henry and Tom wait for the pigs)
 

When the all the piglets came down off the hill you couldn’t help but smile. Their tubby bodies scampering was a sight to see. There were only two girls. The bigger girl, Jason and Kirk were keeping for themselves. The other one was a teeny tiny shy cutie pie we couldn’t help but want to pick up. Her nose was wrinkly and her ears stood straight.

  (a bunch of baby American Guinea Hogs)

 (the little girl)

 (my girl)

 (Denise hugs the girl pig)
     “I want her don’t you?” I said to Tom.

     “Of course I want her,” Tom agreed. “She’s adorable, she’s so petite, we should name her Petitie -but wait Petite’s already the name of our elephant – I mean a cow”. Tom continued to poke fun at Quinn.

     “Ha-ha,” Quinn responded snidely although she was used to it.

     “Then we need a boy!” Henry said as he began assessing the rest of the piglets.

     “You want one without a notch in it’s ear,” Kirk informed us, “those are suitable for her to breed with. They’re not related.”

  ( the little girl and Henry)

 (the floppy-eared boy)

 (Kirk talks to Tom while Henry assess)

 (shy pigs)
 

After careful consideration we narrowed the field to a couple of friendly boys. There was one boy with floppy ears who seemed braver than the little girl and another with upright ears, who was a bit shy but went everywhere with the little girl. We marked them both with pink nail polish so we could decide later. The name discussion ensued, Henry and I had been prepared with Hamilton Bonaparte – “Ham Bone” and Margaret Suzanne – “Piggy Sue”, but those weren’t for sure. Quinn wanted Evangeline for the girl but she liked Hamilton for the boy. Tom liked Piggy Sue.

 (fuchsia OPI nail polish marks- our selects)
 

    We talked to Jason and Kirk, the owners of the farm. Henry got a lecture about factory farming. “You like bacon right?” Henry nodded not sure he wanted to admit this.

     “And ham,” Henry added sheepishly his voice still horse.

     “Well then you’re adding to the torture of animals,” Kirk spat. “Wouldn’t you rather eat bacon with out all those chemicals and know that your pig lived a wonderful life until it’s last moment? Wouldn’t you rather know your bacon had a good life and didn’t live in a box without sunlight?” Henry looked up at Kirk his eyes grew wide. “I walk up to my pig that’s grazing in the pasture just like this one. Point my gun right here,” he said motioning to the top of the pig’s head and BAMM! His last minute was a happy pig moment. No fear, no torture.

     “Just think of them as dogs you can eat,” Jason chimed in.

     “Dogs you can eat?” Quinn said quietly. “That’s not helping. I’ve been doing a social action project about factory farming, and it’s horrible, but seriously? Dogs you can eat?”

     “I agree, the dogs you can eat thing is tough, but Kirk makes a good point, he’s right.” I reflected as we got in the car to head out. “I mean why do we eat pigs that are tortured and we don’t consider our own? The answer is we’re weak. I don’t know if I can do it. We’ll see,” I said mulling the idea over in my mind.  “You know that’s why your mother gave up pork.”

     “I know,” Quinn acknowledged.

     “They hired someone to come out and do it for them at first. I don’t think we could ever shoot a pig or actually pop a whole pig in the oven like they do,” Tom confessed.

     We stopped on the way to the hotel and picked up a moderately-sized dog carrier. Little Midge (short for midget) or Piggy-Sue or Evangeline was only about seven pounds. “It’s just like Maryruth said, “happy meat” Tom remembered. “I can’t think of the name of the steer she said she fed him for two years and then he fed her for two years. Was it Homer? Or something like that?”

     “I found that hard to hear when she said it, but kids we can’t have forty-two pigs on the farm. We just can’t. Some are going to have to be sold as meat and we’re going to have to butcher some. That’s the plain truth of it. Otherwise we can get two boys.” I waited for their answer.

     “I think we can live with it. I know if they’re not used as food, they will become extinct,” Henry said. “But Kirk acted as though I was going to have to shoot them myself” he recounted in disgust.

     “And I know it’ll be really hard, but I’ve seen enough of the factory farming to understand what he meant. Henry I’ll show you it’s absolutely disgusting.” Quinn added. “It’s enough to make me a vegetarian again.”

     We were getting piggies I thought. And we were in quasi-agreement as we pulled into the Peppertree motel in Beaverton. Quinn’s phone rang. It was Lindsey. Again. She wanted her opinion on the matter of all things swine to be heard. And when Lindsey wants to be heard you can hear her. We had already collected the information that she in fact wanted the floppy-eared fellow.

     “Now she wants you to name the pig, Wilbur,” Quinn relayed.

     “Wilbur? That’s like namiing a llama, Tony or Dali,” Tom responded as we trudged up the stairs loaded down with our bags.

     “Wilbur? No!” Henry said. “I like Hamilton”. I was exhausted and knew we had another long day tomorrow but heck we had piggys coming home.  I’d concede the floppy ears, but I was not caving into to Wilbur or Babe or even Arnold Ziffle. Let’s face it, no matter whose soul pigs they were, the kids would go off to swim parties, the movies and dances. I would be the one who was going to feed them and clean up after them for years to come. These were going to be my piggly-wigglys. My colonial farm set was about to be complete.

     “You look so happy,” Tom said pulling me in close. “You really do love them,” he said softly. I nodded folding into his arms. I could check off another dream come true on my list.

        

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

April 9th The Man Who Stares At Goats

 (Christina pays a visit- I left the front door open)
 
     Despite Spring break, the phone jarred me per usual into semi-consciousness. I knew before I picked up, it was Mike. I fumbled for the phone and we began our morning update. Holding the phone with my shoulder I stepped into my slippers reaching for Tom’s heavy red robe. On me the worn terry cloth number dusted the ground. I wrapped it around and pulled the tie tight. Turning around as I listened to Mike recount an incident from work, I screamed.

     “What’s going on? Are you ok?” Mike asked panicky.

     “I’m fine, but it looks like Christmas morning. There must be three to four inches on the ground,” I informed him. He laughed. “You laugh, but I’m over winter. Sure it was mild, but we’ve just had Easter, I’m seriously ready for rhododendrons and butterflies,” I insisted.

 (Winter is finally here)

     Coffee in hand I tidied the house, sweeping the always dusty stairs. Letting the debris fly to the hallway below, I thought about how much I despised these cruddy stairs. They were too narrow, too shallow and didn’t even have a banister. I’d done my best to fix them up, painting the trim black, but it didn’t really help much. Oh well, I’d put it on the list of things to do to fix this house. Once on the list I thought, it would get done – eventually. I did the dishes, fed the dogs, let the barn animals out and took a bale of hay to the cows. Henry slept. Still in our robe, I vacuumed the rugs, mopped the floors and washed the tablecloth. Henry slept.

     Luther pranced to the door his too long toenails clicking on the pine floor. He stood sniffing the door with perky ears, beckoning me. Figuring he needed to go out I opened the door. A pair of men’s boots standing on the mat startled me. My heart pounding at the unexpected sight I raised my eyes up the workman’s jumpsuit relieved to see a smiling Little Chris Donaldson.

    “You scared me!” I admonished but he just laughed.

 (Little Chris Donaldson)
 

     “Did I?” He said with a touch of glee in his voice.

     “Yes, you did,” I said catching my breath and slapping him on the arm.

     “We’re here working on the water line and I’m supposed to ‘deal’ with the homeowner,” he said smiling.

     “You have time for some coffee?” I asked swinging the door open wide and very glad I had already done the dishes.

     “Yeah,”

     “You still want all that junk in it? Your coffee drink?” I asked mockingly already knowing the answer. We caught up and sipped our coffee. Little Chris looked around to note any changes. He said he could work on Sir Edward’s feet and would help me put up a fence if I needed him too. I knew he meant it, but he never really has time for such things.

     “I would next week, but I have a rodeo,” he told me sheepishly.

     “I thought you gave that up,” I said, “so you’ll be able to walk when you’re forty.”

     “Yeah, I keep meaning to. I already hurt, but I love it,” he admitted. “Well, I better go, they’re going to be wondering what happened to me. Come on down later, the guys think you’re,” he trailed off. He’d obviously thought better of what he was about to say. I smothered a smile as he closed the door.

     I checked the clock. It was almost time to leave so threw on a pair of jeans, a white long-sleeved t-shirt, straightened my hair and quickly put on some make up. I wrote the boy a note and started for town.

     Half way to town to the airport, I dialed home. No answer. I felt a grip at my heart, I hate when he doesn’t answer the phone, but I didn’t panic. I don’t like leaving Henry alone, not because I don’t trust him, but because there just anyone out here if falls or needs help. However, I know Henry sleeps like the dead. In fact, I always say the USC marching band could go right through his room and he wouldn’t even rollover. I dialed again.

     “Hello?”

     “Hey Good Afternoon!”

     “Mama? Where are you? What time is it?” Henry croaked. His voice had disappeared when he got strep and pneumonia and as of yet it hadn’t returned.

     “I’m going to get your father remember? It’s almost 1 o’ clock. Have you looked outside?

    “What?” I could practically hear him turning when I heard, “Oh my gosh! Did I sleep through Christmas?” Henry whispered.

 “I know, well anyway, do your chores we’ll be home soon, smooch!”

     By the time I swung into booming Bellingham International it was just about noon. Despite all the warnings to the contrary I pulled into the yellow loading zone and parked along side a set of grandparents. Ready to wait, I pushed my seat back and whipped out my new favorite read, “Small Time Operator”, a handbook for aspiring home business owners. Awesomez, had suggested I get it and truly it was a wealth of information. I was deep into shipping procedures and pitfalls and lifted out of my seat when the back of the car opened. A glance in the rearview mirror told me my reaction had taken careful planning. Tom grinned like a little boy. On the way home, we made our requisite stop at Lowes. The snow had all but disappeared. Tom had work to do this trip. The barn door needed mending and about a million other things had to be done before and there wasn’t much time, he really only had a day or so.

     Tom set to work mending things, hanging things and replacing things while spent my time doing all the wifey-type things like schlepping Henry to gymnastics, cooking dinner and doing laundry.

 (Edward and Pea)
 

     While in Burlington I picked up a few more trinkets at Home Depot and headed one again. Tom was still at work in the house so Henry and I went straight to the barn. I opened all the pens and let the animals in. I noticed something strange. None of the goats got up. They ignored me food completely. That was odd, there were infinitely curious and social, they never ignored me. I went about my business, shut Frank and Silence in their pen, put away the hens and shut Lloyd and his gaggle up for the night before getting out the food bowls. As I slid the door of the food room to the side I got a knot in my stomach. The goats, all of them just sat there. Usually the sound of the food room opening is like a bell at recess. The goats usually go nuts vying for the best spot at the feed bin. This time there were still on the ground. Their eyes sleepy.

     “What is going on Alexander? Don’t you feel well?” I asked my lethargic goat.

     “What’s wrong with them?” Henry asked.

     Remembering the words I’d heard when I first got them from Marcia. She’d said, “The main thing you have to remember is, a goat that doesn’t eat is a very sick goat.” It was a telltale sign.

 (Alexander -my sickie- if you look in the right corner there is a duck sitting on a nest)
 

     “They’re sick,” I surmised, “Marcia, told me to give them baking soda. I have some in the house can you run go get it? There’s a giant box in the pantry. If they can’t burp they can die,” I said not wanting to be too dramatic, but we were most certainly talking about life and death here. Henry took off like a track star sprinting across the barnyard.

     I went over and opened the gate to their pen. Usually, everyone rushed me. Still nary a ruminant got up. Rachel was the closest so I bent down and felt her belly. It was hard and distended. Her coat seemed kind of rough and it sort of looked like a Rhodesian Ridgeback with a spike down the middle. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I was imaging that or not. I finished feeding the rest of the animals and waited for Henry to return. We poured most of the box in the bowl and tried to get some Rachel and Christina interested in the white healing powder. They were only slightly interested.

     “Do you think they’ll be ok?” Henry asked. He was raw when it came to death on the farm lately. We’d just recently dispensed of a Silence’s stillborn turkey eggs. “How would we bury them? With the tractor?” Henry wondered getting ahead of himself.

 (still born turkey egg)

 (bad eggs- thus illustrating the old saying - don't count your turkeys before they hatch)
 

  “I guess so. All we can do now is hope. There isn’t any vet open now and I have no idea what they could have gotten into. The food room isn’t disturbed or the chicken feed. All the lids are on everything. I can’t imagine what’s making them sick unless it’s just too much green grass. They could have frothy bloat,” I explained. Solemnly, we went in the house. Henry and Tom ripped open a bag of chips while I flipped on the burner to heat up the water in the kettle.

     “Do you really think it’s that serious?”  Tom asked popping a Kettle™ Chip in his mouth and washing it down with a swig of Becks™.

     “Yes, goats are wimps. If they can’t burp they can’t live. They could all be dead by morning. Really,” I said flatly. “When I got them Marcia told me most people kill their first goats within a year. I’ve had them almost three and they’ve stayed healthy,” I said trying to look on the bright side. I thought of calling Lisa, but I knew it was late and I didn’t think there was much I could do. I thought about the goats dying and it saddened me, but I wasn’t hysterical. In an odd way I was getting used to loss on the farm. The goats were my first animals. I was a completely nervous mother driving four goats in my van up the I5 almost three years ago. I went to bed wondering what was happening in the barn. Would I find one, two three or eight bodies in the morning? Were the sheep possibly sick too? Had they eaten a poisonous plant? I doubted that though they seem to instinctively know what not to eat.

     In the morning, my eyes flew open. I leapt out of bed and rushed to the barn.

     “Please be alive, please be alive,” I whispered to myself. The barn was dark except for the heat lamp in the center of the barn for the ducks. My eyes adjusted and I could make out figures on the ground. They’d made it through the night. They were still lying around like they were in a sick ward, but they were alive. I breathed a sigh of relief. Alexander seemed to be the worst at this point. The others got up with some prompting.

     I called Lisa and apprised her of the situation. “Hmmm, could be bloat,” she suggested.

     “That’s what I thought,” I said glad for the confirmation.

     “Do you have any of the activated charcoal I gave you? Or mineral oil”

     “Yes, should I give it?” I supposed I should have thought of that last night. I felt guilty for not calling her sooner.

     “I think you should call Kulshan. You know, you could have called them last night, I'm sure they would have had an on call vet assigned," she scolded. "But anyway, you can see what the vet says, just in case there’s a better answer,” she advised. So I hung up and spoke to Amber other wise known as Dr. Itle. She told me to take their temperatures and give her a call back. My sister then called and asked me to also check their gums, bellies and stool.

     “OK then, Pea you need to come with me. I need help,” I called. And Tom pulled on his jacket and boots ready to be my assistant. We walked into the barn and I quickly located the barn thermometer.

 (the thermometer)
 

     “Now you’ll have to hold Rachel while I insert the thermometer,” I instructed. Tom tried grabbing the goat around her legs but she wiggled and wriggled and hopped around. I couldn’t get the thermometer in as he struggled with her. I knew he was trying, but he seemed to be approaching it awkwardly. He didn’t want to let her move, but he didn’t want to hurt her either. “um, do you want me to hold her?” I asked handing him the thermometer and grabbing the goat. “Just put it in,” I said matter-of-factly.

     Tom just stood there intently looking at each of the goats one by one. He was just standing there holding the thermometer. I buried my head in Rachel’s neck, but when Tom still didn’t make a move, I looked up. “What?” I asked confused.

     “I can’t. I draw the line. I’m not shoving this thermometer up that goat’s butt. I'm just not. I’m not sticking it in there,” Tom said in a tone that was not open for discussion.

     “Really?” I asked anyway although I knew he’d pigged up. He gave me a look that did not invite further conversation. It was kind of funny actually. Here he was my hero, this big strong man who could leap tall buildings, pour cement, construct sturdy fences and yet he was not going to do this. I thought of goat herders in ancient lands getting syphilis and wondered if this was a factor. I said nothing but reached for the thermometer. “Can you hold her?”

     “Oh I’ll hold Rachel, you put it in,” He offered grabbing the goat.

     Rachel arched her tail up as the blue thermometer hung out of her pinched, pink bottom. 98, 99, 100.5 100.6, 100.7, 100.8, 100.9 the digital numbers kept climbing 101, 101.1 When it beeped her temperature read 101.3 “She’s going to be OK. Amber said if it was less than 103 she was probably out of the woods,” I said happily hoisting up the red robe and grabbing for my coffee cup perched on top of some hay.

 (my goats - on the mend)

 (Really feeling better)
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

March 27th Show Time

 (Miracle and Edward enjoy the sunny morning)

     In general, I’m not a lay around the house kind of girl, but I’d gotten a lot of flack from Awesomez about never relaxing, and Henry was sort of haranguing me too, so I curled up with a blankie to watch an episode of “Bones”.

 (The cast of Bones)

 (Booth and Bones- I actually shot a few commercials with Emily Deschanel's father - the incredibly talented Caleb Deschanel)
 
  
 

    “You know, I’ve always suspected we’re going to find a dead body some day. It’s always in some rural area where some nut drives out and stashes a body in the middle of the forest,” I said as the theme song twanged.

    “Or that’s where the crime is committed dun-dun-dunnn,” Henry teased.

    We were completely engrossed in this body being soaked in beer to remove soft tissue when I saw a flash in the window. “Did you see that?” I asked.

    “See what?” Henry demanded. “Are you just trying to trick me? Do you just want to go and clean the barn or something?”

    “No, really. I saw something,” I said as I walked toward the front door and out onto the still unpainted porch. What was I doing lying around watching TV anyway when this porch needed sanding and painting? I really had to take stock of my priorities I thought as I looked over the railing, “Henry look! We have company!” I yelled as he came running up behind me. “Do you recognize that guy?”

    “It’s Pablo!”

 (Pablo, Miracle and Edward)

 (Miracle, Edward and Pablo)

 (Miracle and Edward try to stay away from Pablo)

 (Farm frenzy)

 (What the flock?)
 

    “That’s him all right. Hey there buddy! He must have gotten out from Dave’s place and come over here the same way Abe, Andy and Gnatalie went over there. Oh no! He’s trying to mount Miracle.”

    “Edward’s not going to let that happen look!” Henry exclaimed as our former racehorse shed any semblance out to pasture. “He’s ready to take on Pablo!” Henry added as Pablo kicked Edward.

    “I’ve got to separate them before someone gets hurt,” I said.

    “Hurry Mom, he almost trampled the ducks!” Henry urged me as I unwound the purple and white lead rope from the post and marched off.

    What to do, what to do I wondered. Edward, Miracle and Pablo were racing around the yard like they were doing laps at Santa Anita. Miracle was in the lead followed by Edward who was trying to block Pablo from getting any closer. Then it was Pablo coming around and trying to split them up kicking Edward. I was afraid one of them was going to twist an ankle if I didn’t get the situation under control. I thought for a flash about putting him down with the cows when Dave’s words came flying back to me. “Pablo chases cows until they’re in a lather. He won’t leave them alone.” So that was out of the question. Then I thought of the paddock by the barn where I used to put Pancho and Lefty on occasion. It wasn’t that secure, but I didn’t think he’d be aggressive once I got him calmed down.

    Calm he was not. In fact, he was breathing hard and soaked with sweat. He was confused and transfixed with my petite equine beauty with the prominent ears, Miracle. Who I might add was standing on the other side of her bodyguard boyfriend, Sir Edward. I tried talking to him and he looked at me surprised I knew his name.

  (Pablo)
 

    “Now Pablo, you come here so I can put this lead on you,” I instructed firmly in my fifth grade teacher voice. The voice I used when good students went bad. He stood there and let me put the lead on his halter. I had a hold of him. I was quite satisfied things had gone so well. Just then, Miracle took off for safer ground and Pablo flew into a frenzy. I let go of the rope to avoid losing the skin on my palms. I’m not new at this. Anymore.

 (Pablo on the move)

 (Miracle hides behind Edward)
 

    Pablo, Miracle and Edward took another lap by the pasture, around the apple trees, back up by the house and again over by the compost and shavings piles. The goats, sheep and turkeys and ducks huddled together realizing there was safety in numbers. The geese sought shelter under the porch. Again I told him to stay still and let me grab his lead, and again he complied and without hesitation I walked over and put him in the paddock. Filled the red water bucket and threw him some hay. I walked back to the house and had Henry call Tom who tried calling Dave to let him know Pablo was here safe and sound.

    “Mama, you know Pablo looks like Edward and Miracle's baby. Oh, Dadda says Dave’s not home and he couldn’t get him on his cell.” As Henry was relaying this message, I saw a white truck drive by. It had driven by two or three times now and considering we don’t get five cars in a weekend I thought it more than a coincidence. “Do you think that’s Dave or one of his friends out looking for Pablo?”

 (Pablo is met by the oh-so-curious goats)
 

 (Pablo relaxes)

 (Edward and Miracle decide to checkout Pablo now that he is properly confined)

    “It must be, I’ll drive over and see if I can catch up with him and if not, leave a note,” I said climbing in the van. Dave is my closest neighbor so I was turning onto his gravel drive in a blink. Once I did I was surprised to see the white truck heading toward me. Dave’s big metal driveway barricade was down. He’d told me he’d had it put in because of some trouble with drunken hunters. So in order to get to Dave’s house you had to call ahead and he had to drive the mile down to open it. I quickly read the situation to mean, Dave was not home and this person did not know Dave. The truck drove slowly up toward me and stopped. The window slipped down to reveal a man I did not recognize from around here. My heart started to pound as I realized I was off the main road. I tried to stay calm. I had just been watching “Bones” after all.  But the hairs on the back of my neck were sending off all kinds of warning signals. I thought quickly, “Hey there!” I said in my most confident, friendly voice. “Are you looking for Dave’s donkey too?

    “What? Donkey you say?” The bead-eyed dark-haired man in his late forties answered.

    “Yes, a bunch of us were looking for Pablo, Dave’s mule really and well, my husband and I found him. He’s over at our place. I just was coming to see if I you were looking for him too, since you’ve been driving by,” I said relaying I was not alone so leave me be. 

    “Umm no. I’m just lost myself,” he said.

    “Really? Where you headed?” I asked helpfully.

    “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m a bit turned around I was looking for a logging road and I thought this was it, but I guess I’ll just get out of here now,” he said.

    “Huh, well this wouldn’t be a logging road ‘cause there are three mailboxes at the end of it. And you can only go left ‘cause the bridge is out,” I said.

    “Yeah,” he said and drove off. For a moment, I thought of writing a note on Dave’s gate, but I didn’t want to spend another moment off the main road, just in case. So I went back and left a note in Dave’s mailbox. He’d get it eventually and Pablo was safe enough at my house.

    I went back home. Henry and I did some work before we went to finish our “Bones” episode and watch another. Eventually, our canine unit sounded the –somebody’s at the gate- alarm.

    “Mom, I would take that to mean Dave’s here,” Henry said wryly.

    We walked out and greeted Neighbor Dave Brown and met his son, Ryan, who was visiting. We all walked toward Pablo as we talked.

    “I saw your name on the caller id and figured you had him, I bet he heard the cow bells and came running,” Dave laughed.

    “Yep, they seemed to recognize him when he ran up. He’s had dinner. I was sure glad I remembered not to put him in with the cows,” I laughed.

 (Dave, Pablo and Ryan Brown)

 

 (Edward decides Pablo might just be ok)
 

    “Yep, he’d had them tearing down a whole fence line,” Dave said. While Dave hooked up Pablo I relayed the story of the man in the white truck. Dave’s face went white.

    “What?” I asked slowly.

    “Well, my ex-girlfriend’s stayin’ with me because her ex-boyfriend is violent and she’s afraid of him. He stabbed her dog in the chest with a kitchen knife and broke it’s legs,” Dave said.

    “Mom,” Henry pressed his arm into my side, “that’s how serial killers start,” Henry whispered almost inaudibly.

    “He drives a white vehicle,” Dave said. “Do you think you could describe him?”

    “I could only see him through the part of the window he rolled down, dark-hair, receding hairline, late forties. He creeped me out I’ll tell you that,” I admitted.

    “That describes him, but he drives a car not a truck, of course, you can always borrow a vehicle if you want to,” Ryan added. We all nodded and stood there quietly for a moment.

    “He was definitely sitting in your driveway. When I pulled up he started to move his car toward me and he said he was looking for a logging road, but when I pointed out the three mailboxes he just left, anyway I’ll keep an eye out for him,” I promised wishing silently Irish was done with camp.

    We chatted about getting together for a barbecue when Tom was in town, Ryan said he might be able to clean my generator carburetor and we laughed about our animals running to each other for sanctuary. Dave said he’d really like to get Pablo a friend and I told him Lisa had mentioned there was a donkey in need of a home at the Humane Society.

    “I’d really like to look into that,” he said and I promised to follow up. Dave and Ryan didn’t have a trailer with them, so Dave walked home with Pablo while Ryan followed in the truck.

    Gnatalie, Petite, Lucky, Abe and Andy lined up on the fence rail to watch their friend walk home. They mooed loudly and you could hear heehawing across the pasture.

 (Dave and Pablo)

 (Gnatalie, Lucky, Petite, Abe and Andy watch Pablo and Dave)

    “Mom? Do you think that was the guy?” Henry asked concerned.

     “Probably, he was awfully suspicious and he drove back and forth so many times. I didn’t believe him when he said he was lost. I mean honestly, how do you get lost on a seven mile dead-end road?”

    “He stabbed her dog? That’s brutal. I wonder what her name was and if she lived?”

    “Yeah, she did,” I said as we went back to finally finish “Bones”.  The phone rang, it was Awesomez.

    “So did you get a lot done today or did you relax?” She asked.

    “Well, I didn’t get a lot done,” I said, “In fact, Henry and I have been watching TV off and on all day,” I said quite  honestly.

February 28th Cheaper By The Dozen

 (The Twin Sisters)

     Grateful it’s finally light by 6:30 AM, I sipped my hot coffee curled up on the sofa with a blanket and chatted on the phone with Toby about my cherry trees starting to blossom. She was outside fixing a fence board balancing the phone on her shoulder chattering about the warm Spring California sunshine, the possibility of buying a house and her desire to spend days on the beach in Mexico reading a book when I heard a goose honking. Strange I thought, as I hadn’t heard her in weeks. All the other geese were tucked safely in the barn. Clara’d been laying eggs left and right, but I took them all away from her. I’ve been including them in my farm variety egg pack- turkey, duck, chicken & goose I’ve been selling for only $2.00 a dozen. Lisa thinks I should raise my prices, but I'm new at this. The most consistent layers are the chickens, but the ducks lay a bigger egg and are fairly regular. Silence had been laying, but for some reason seemed to stop. We'd taken all but two of her eggs.  And the geese lay an egg everyone loves, but I guess they had a limited supply. I collect the eggs every day fill the recycled egg cartons and take them to the Cat Clinic in town where I sell them to the staff, since Lisa’s been working there pretty consistently. They give me more cartons and it pays for the All Purpose Poultry feed.

Clara had moved her nest all over the yard to thwart me. She started in the woodpile, went to the back fence and finally she wedged herself so far under the porch I couldn’t get at her.

“Last night, Henry and I left her some food and water in case she came out. And the weirdest thing, another goose stayed out with her”

             “Huh, I wonder why she did that?” Toby mused.

            “You’re the poultry girl, I was hoping you could tell me,” I countered. “Anyway, this is the first time I’ve heard her since she went under the porch I guess she came out for the water and food. Finally,” I said relieved. “I hate her being outside it makes me nervous, but at least she’s been close to the house where she’s safer.”

    I got off the phone, it was still early and cold so I did the dishes and began to mop the floor in the dining room when I heard honking again. I hadn’t gone out to let the rest of the geese out of the barn yet, so I threw on Tom’s red terry cloth robe over my green flannels and slid into a pair of fuzzy slippers. I dialed one of my new portable phone’s Tom bought me at Cost-co. They have such incredible range I can take them all the way to the barn, which is why he got them. The phone rang until Tom's voice-mail dinged. I began talking. I’m infamous for leaving long conversational messages. Tom gets annoyed because he forgets it’s a message and tries to interrupt me or talk back. So now you know why I’m a big believer in messages.

            “Hey, I heard Clara this morning. Henry and I left her some water by the porch last night and some food since she never comes out,” I rambled as I shuffled across the porch the cold morning biting my ankles. “Anyway, the strangest thing was that Mabel stayed outside with her last night. I’m looking under the porch right now and I don’t see them. And I’m relieved to see there aren’t any eggs. I figured there would be, but nope no eggs,” I said emphatically into the receiver I had clutched to my cheek.

            Just then, I heard the girls honking and turned, “Oh My Lord In Heaven!” I screamed. “There aren’t any eggs because there are goslings! Two fluffy goslings are standing by the garage with Clara and Mabel. I bet you Mabel stayed out because she knew!! I can’t believe it!!” I shrieked and hung-up.

 (Surprise! Surprise! Surprise! Two new baby goslings with Mama - Clara and Aunt Mabel)

 (Over the rope and under the tree)

 (Mama Clara and Aunt Mabel with the two newly hatched additions)
 

    For a moment I stood there in disbelief. Where did the eggshells go? Did they eat them? I turned and ran in the house. “Henry!!! Wake-up!! C’mon you won’t believe what I found!” I said as a groggy Henry lifted his sleepy head from the pillow squinting like a mole and fumbling for his glasses.

    “Is something dead?” He asked guardedly, knowing I hate dead things.

    “No, c’mon!” I demanded as I scurried down the stairs Tom’s floor-length red terrycloth robe flying behind me like a cape. I grabbed my Nikon with the red duct tape and was out the door. Once outside I slowed down and watched the little ones with their mama. Henry figuring something big was a foot was right behind me.

    “Babies! We have babies! Clara you have babies,” Henry cooed in the soft funny voice reserved for newborns.

 (Henry can't resist snuggling the baby)

 (I think they're both girls - Henry noted taking the sex-coloring of the bill into account)
 

 (by the porch with the gaggle and the water feeder)
 

    “It’s a good thing we put the water and food out last night or they wouldn’t have had anything,” I reflected. “Henry, I don’t want any of the dogs outside with the babies. Remember Vivian last year,” I reminded.

    “She didn’t mean to kill him,” Henry rationalized.

    “Rugby! You better go and tell Joe and Katie not to let Rugby out without a leash. He chased Franklin something fierce when he first came. I thought he was going to kill Frank, but he left him alone. Babies? He wouldn’t have to do much,” I warned, but Henry was already on the move.

    I went inside, but I could see Henry returning with Joe. I smiled at the sight. Joe looked less than ready to venture outside, hair tousled, wrapped in a robe, a cup of coffee in hand but he couldn’t resist the goslings. He leaned in with Henry and admired the babies and I knew this kid was one of us.

    “Mom?” Henry called to me.

    “Yeah? I said stepping out the front door onto the porch.

    “I’m going to take Joe up to see Silence’s eggs in the barn ok?” Henry half asked and half told me.

    “Sure, but be careful I don’t know how strong that structure is.” I mom-ed the both of them. I supposed I didn’t really have to warn a fireman, but what the heck.

    When he got back Henry took my hand and told me to sit down. “Mama, I’ve got something to tell you,” he said seriously.

    “Is something wrong with Silence?”

    “Apparently not,” he continued a smile sneaking into his eyes. “You know how we took all of her eggs, but two?”

    “Yes,” I answered slowly, the news beginning to dawn on me.

    “Well, Joe and I climbed up there and well, she has fourteen!”

    “Fourteen? Fourteen turkeys? I don’t want fourteen turkeys,” I said dazed.

    Later that day, Henry and I candled Silence’s eggs to see if there were turkeys actually in them. Maybe they weren’t even fertilized I thought. However, as I held them over the light, they looked so full we both figured there were definitely babies in them. And in fact they looked so packed we were fairly sure it was because they were so big they couldn’t move around in the egg anymore.

       “Henry, I think we should relocate her nest. If those babies are born and we’re not here they could fall off and I couldn’t take little turkey bodies all over.”

     “Oh Mama, but what if she won’t sit on it?” Henry worried.

    “Well, then they’ll die. I gotta tell you I can take that better than dead babies, you?” I asked.

    “No question,” he agreed. So the relocation procedure began. Henry went up and gathered the eggs lowering them down to me with a rope. 

    "Is she freaking out with you up there," I asked.

    "Nope. She's cooing. She isn't like the geese. She let me put my hand in and take her eggs. She looked concerned, but she seems to trust me."

     Next we made a nest. We tried to make it as close a replica of hers as possible. She’d made hers underneath the wheel of an overturned wheel barrel so we took another wheel barrel in to her pen just like she had it. Finally we carefully, put the eggs in the nest and Henry brought down Silence. She walked around a little and began to eat. She didn’t sit on the eggs.

 (Henry collects Silence's eggs)

 (Henry with the eggs - ready to lower)

 (Next stop - The nursery)
 
  (the turkey eggs in their new location)

 (Henry moves the mama- Silence Do-good)

 (Silence isn't ready to resume her duties)
 

    “She isn’t sitting,” Henry worried, “and I think I cracked one of the eggs,” he confessed, “when I was putting them in the container.”

    “Honey, you were careful, it was an accident. Anyway, what the heck are we going to do with that many turkeys? Giver her time. Let's leave her alone.”

 (a daffodil about to bloom)

    It was Spring. Yellow daffodils were popping out of the ground everywhere. The sun blazed and suddenly I had the urge to do yard work. The rest of the day the gosling waddled around the lawn with the gaggle munching on grass, sipping water and enjoying the sunny day. Henry, Joe, Katie and I raked the yard talking about this and that as we worked. Henry and Joe took a few breaks to throw knives at a target, taking the tractor to the pond for a little BB gun practice. After putting the Kubota away I saw Henry dart in and out of the barn. "She's sitting on them!" He cried happily.

And everything seemed possible. Again.

 (Silence's head is peeking out on the left as she sits on her eggs between the wheel barrel and the box - just the ways she likes it.)
 
 

February 27th Lucky Strike Extra

 (Nick and Lindsey get ready to leave)

     Lindsey and Nick left on a jet plane bound for Mammoth. Lindsey went home to her mom filled with stories, pictures and new friends. Nick on the other hand went home to his dad filled with anger, accusations and angst. Endings are never easy and this one was particularly hard. Nick who had chosen, begged to come and live on our farm to have a fresh start, was miserable now and felt it was time to go home. All things considered, I finally, reluctantly agreed. Lines had been crossed, things had been said, so I wished Nick luck and told him I hoped he would find what he was looking for.

“It’s all good,” he said and slipped away behind security while Lindsey stood waving goodbye.

After they left, the farm was unusually quiet. Nick’s sudden departure was traumatic. Henry was sullen and broken-hearted. It was back to just Henry and me and of course forty-six animals – give or take. Not much consolation when you feel as though you lost a kind of brother. All week Henry’s teachers and coach were asking if everything was all right at home. It wasn’t. 

The week dragged on, Henry continued to work out at the gym, his state meet looming near, but it was easy to see he found it hard to concentrate. On a bright note, our new tenants, Joe and Katie moved in with their dog, Rugby. But nothing seemed to ease the pain of Nick’s departure.

  (Henry works on his routine)

 (Henry works on his flairs)

 (parallel routine)

 (Henry swings)

 (Joe and Katie arrive)
 

 (Luther greets Joe while Kate works) 
 
 

 (Mike Senzer - for those who don't know - Mike is a science teacher who moved up here from Los Angeles)

 (Me and my little girl, Gnatalie- the cuddly cow I always dreamed of)
 

Mike drove up for a visit from Tacoma. We hadn’t seen him in a while and he thought he’d come see Henry for moral support and my dad drove out too just to fill the place with a little joie de vive. Tom called constantly, worried about Henry’s recent regression. We both knew Henry didn’t handle loss well, ever since his best friend, Harry, died.

            “Mom?” Henry said with a pitchfork in his hand. “There’s a trailer pulling up to the gate, should I go open it?”

            “Yeah, that’d be a good idea, it’s Susie and her husband” I said with a sneaky smile.

            “Susie? Doe she have Petite?” Henry asked wide-eyed, excitement spreading across his face.

             “Yep,” I said as Henry went running off.

          “There’s something else isn’t there?” Mike said assessing my demeanor.

            “You know me too well,” I admitted. I’m always in a good mood when Mike’s cleaning the barn. He takes off his squeaky white sneakers and puts on the farm boots Tom and I selfishly got him a couple of Christmas’s ago. Then pens in his breast pocket, he sets to work in his farm ensemble: worn khakis, short-sleeve button down, brown leather belt. Mike can’t stand an untidy barn. This by the way, has absolutely nothing to do with the conditions of the animal pens. Rather Mike can’t take the gestalt of the barn feeling unkempt. He likes the middle swept and the rakes hung in their proper locations. Hay bales should be stacked and water buckets arranged so as to be out of walk ways. “What can I say, some people buy strappy sandals in times of emotional crisis, I buy endangered farm animals,” I grinned.

            “You’ve about collected the whole colonial set,” he teased.

            “I’m still missing the pigs,” I reminded him.

             We walked out the barn doors and waved to Susie and her husband as they made their way down toward the pasture. Henry was running behind them trailed nimbly by Bruno who was leaping and darting here and there. Everyone was bursting with excitement.

 (Grandpa Horn -and Irish-- my dad is wearing his bandage from his latest cancer skin- his third type & once again he should be fine-The Luck of...)
 

  (Susie and her husband, Rex arrive from Pixie Forest Farm- specializing in heritage cattle Irish Dexters)
 

 (Gnatalie doesn't know how happy she's going to be)
 

            I opened the gates the gates to the pasture and Susie raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Should we unload?” She asked. 

            “Is that Lucky? I remember her!” Henry called. “We got two?”

            “Lucky is Petite’s daughter, Gnatalie’s aunt, Gnatalie’s mother Ladybug and Lucky are sisters.” I explained trying to appear rational, “Susie and I thought it would be a good idea to keep the family together”.

            “Do you think they’ll remember each other?” Henry turned to Susie.

             “Absolutely. It’s amazing what cows remember,” she laughed. “Sometimes you wish they’d forget things. The truth is, I had two cows, sisters, that were separated for more than a year and when they were put in a pasture of cows, they found each other in minutes and were inseparable. All my cows hang-out in family groups.”

            We brought Petite in first and then Lucky. Gnatalie began to lick and snuggle them immediately. The boys, Abe and Andy were not so happy. They began hollering and moo-oooing loudly.

“I suppose this is what they mean by having a cow” I surmised.

  (Susie and Petite enter the pasture while Henry watches - my dad is coming down the hill from the barn)

 (Gnatalie can't lick Petite enough - kisses and kisses for grandma)
 
  (The look of shock on Abe - left- and Andy is beyond consolation - in mid moo)

 (Happy cows - Gnatalie and her aunt Lucky butt heads)
 
  (Andy continues to Mooo his head off- is he welcoming or warning?)
 

            “Do you think they’ll hurt them?” Henry worried.

            “Nahhh, they’re boys and these are girls. Everyone should be fine in just a little while. Do you want me to let them go?” Susie asked. Mike not a lover of bovine, meandered back with his pitchfork in hand toward the barn. He had work to do.

            “Sure, I’d rather you were here for this anyway. Just in case. I’m big on just in case”. Susie untied the girls and off they went. Cows gone wild. Petite, Lucky and Gnatalie took off with Abe and Andy in pursuit. They ran and kicked up their heels checking out every corner of the pasture.

  (Petite, Lucky, Andy and Abe- Gnatalie is running to meet them)
 

 (a happy herd)
 

            “Today Gnatalie’s a happy girl Mama,” Henry murmured perched on the weathered cedar fence. “Rat-Bat Nooooo!” He yelled as I saw that darn dog race toward the herd of cattle. “He could get killed!”

            We screamed “Bruno! Rattie! Rat-Bat! Get over here! Come!”  And luckily he is fairly obedient or he realized he was about to have a near death experience so he came trotting back. Henry ran over and scooped him up just to be safe. The excitement over, we relaxed a little and chatted with Susie about her cattle rustlers and the legal battle about getting them back her cows.

  (Bruno and Henry - with Andy in the back)
 

 (Andy and Abe watch the girls at the feeder - looking like a Far Side cartoon)
 

            “If you need us for the round-up, Henry and I will be there,” I offered.

“I just might take you up on that,” she winked driving away with her husband.

After they left we went back to cleaning the barn and finishing the chores of the day. We made chili, watched and watched the Olympics with my dad and Mike. As Henry was going to sleep surrounded by dogs and cats of all colors and sizes, he asked me, 

“Mama? Do you think Nick is sad? Do you think he will miss me?”

“No,” I said honestly, “I think he won’t at first Honey. Right now, Nick is in his own sad world. He’s thinking only about himself. He’s unhappy with himself, but one day. Yes. He will miss you and realize how much you love him and how much we all love him and then maybe he’ll regret how things ended”, I said wiping away his tears. “But until then, you have Quinn and Phoebe and all of us and Lindsey and Awesomez and we all love you, and I know it’s not the same,” I said softly.

“I don’t even know why I love him so much,” Henry said. “

“My mom asked me a long time ago, what I thought love was. I remember we were driving down Mulholland. I told her I thought she was being completely ridiculous. Everyone knows what love is I mean c’mon. Now I realize what a complicated question it was. One thing I know for sure. Love never ends”.

“You know, it makes me think of Harry. Losing him. Every time I get close to someone they leave,” he said his eyes filling again with tears. I didn’t know what to say, how to comfort him. I knew this was bringing back so many painful memories. I simply hugged him tight. “Mama, do you think cows feel a kind of love? I mean they search the herds for their families.”

“I do. Now it’s late. Good Night John-Boy,”

“Good-Night, and Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Lucky, might just be lucky,her ear tag is 13” he said sleepily.

“We could use some luck. You know, there was a time when my friends said if it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all,” I smirked.

“Then what happened?”

“I had you”.

 (Lucky - 13- daughter of Petite- sister of Lady Bug - aunt to Gnatalie- born at Pixie Forest Farm)
 

February 22nd Lost & Found

 (Searching for Henry) (Crazy Canada guy)
 

 (Swedish fan)

 (USA - fans)

 (Canada Moose)
 

 (Chinese fans- ready to cheer)
 

     “Look for the goat hat!” Phoebe called as we made our way through the tented makeshift section of the venue. In no time flat we promptly located Olympic goat boy standing near the entrance next to a group of Chinese curling zealots. He was waving literally trying to flag us down.

     “I turned on my phone, but no one else had there’s on,” he recalled tears streaming down his face. Quinn and Lindsey peered at me sheepishly and we shrugged.

  (Henry trying to get someone to notice him)

    We sat down in our seats and soaked in the atmosphere. The cool blues and greens of the 2010 games were tranquil. Perfect for the winter. The flags flying over the ice filled me with a sense of pride. I remembered sitting in front of the television with my parents watching Jim McKay on ABC as Munich unfolded. I thought of the “Up Close and Personal” segments that inspired me and put me in complete awe of anyone who could dedicate themselves through adversity. I thought back to when my father had had Mark Spitz over to swim in our pool. Lisa and I had been legends of Round Meadow Elementary. I couldn’t believe I was finally sitting at an Olympic event. I could feel my eyes well up.

 (The flags)

 (The stadium- who knew curling was such a big event)

 (the official beginning)
 

     “Mom? Can you paint my face?” Henry asked whipping out some pens he'd had the foresight to bring along.

     “Ok, but I’m not your father,” I reminded him.

     “I know, but you’re here,” he said.

     “Gee thanks,” I said grabbing the pens. I suddenly had a vision and got to work. It took me longer than I thought.

     “Not bad Denise, will you do me next?” Phoebe asked.

     “I guess, OK all done,” I said after working diligently for some time. 

     “Thanks Mama,” Henry said and looked me directly in the eyes, “So it says Zimbabwe right?” 

     “You’re just like your father,” I said smacking him.

 (Henry with his USA face)
 

  (Phoebe and Henry in support of the USA Ladies Curing team)
 

 
 (I used a slightly different blue on Phoebe - and then touched up Henry's USA)

 (Lindsey -with Phoebe behind the flag-cheering on our team - with a huge Chinese cheering section behind her
 

We bought the little radio they sold at the concession stand so we’d know what was going on. And actually were lucky enough to sit next to a couple who knew quite a bit about curling. We learned about peeling and how heavy the rocks are.

     “I heard they were equivalent to three marmots,” Henry chimed in.

     “You know that’s how they named Whistler,” Lisa added, “because of the whistling sound marmots make”.

     “Really?” Chris marveled at his wife’s prowess. Lisa laughed. 

    "I'm not really that brilliant I heard it on the opening ceremonies, you fell asleep".

     We were glued to the match. We willed our stones toward the target as our Olympic team battled Sweden. We didn't exactly understand the game, but we traded around the radio in an attempt to get a more insightful appreciation. Nonetheless, we agonized as Sweden systematically knocked our stones out of the target area dashing our hopes of a win. As we sat waiting for Sweden to throw their stone, wondering if they'd throw a guard to block or a stone to score, we heard,

  (unfortunately it was a waste of $20.00- the broadcasters barely spoke of the event. They yammered on about all sorts of other topics rather than giving insight into what was happening)

 (Team USA Curling)

 (Sweden's Ladies Olympic Curling Team)

 

 (Team USA in scoring position)

 (Henry and Chris share a high-five)

 (Everyone watches nervously)
 
  (Chris being Chris)
 

 (Curling video assist)

 ("So do you think that's the 

Zam-Broomie?" Lisa cracked herself up)
 

 (Sweden takes a moment to strategize after Team USA threw there stone )
 

    “Go Sweden Go!” From Quinn?

     “Uh, you do know we’re playing them right?” Lisa said dripping with sarcasm.

     "Yes, but no one has cheered for them all night,” Quinn informed her.

     “They are killing us you realize?” Lisa responded.

     “How would you feel if no one cheered for you in the Olympics?” Quinn answered. “I’m on the world team”.

     “Me too,” Lindsey concurred. And they joined in as the Chinese fans did their call and response chant again. In Chinese.

     “I don’t know what the heck we’re saying but we’re coming as close as we can,” Quinn laughed until she could barely sit up.

 (Quinn & Lindsey Go Chinese!)
 

    "“They’re probably saying – you don’t know what we’re saying but we’re going to kick your butts,” Lisa laughed. “Hey look, there’s the family from Orcas Island.”

     Meanwhile patriotism was a live and well and residing in my son who couldn’t stop waving the flag Chris bought as we walked in the stadium. A nearby cameraman kept shooting Henry as two Canadian women who had a little too much alcohol heckled him relentlessly.

    “C-A-N-A-D-A - every day -And Stanford sucks too!” She sneered at Henry, “Anything’s better even Brown and Dartmouth!” Henry said nothing, kept his eyes straight ahead but waved his flag again. I turned to my sister, who was now sitting next to me.

 (Heckler)

    “Um, they do realize those schools are in the United States right?” I whispered to my sister.

     “They’re sore because they lost the hockey game today,” Henry said insightfully.

     “I don’t care! Excuse me! Excuse me! Ladies! Do you realize you’re yelling at a 12-year old at the Olympic games? He’s only twelve, please leave him alone,” Lisa defended Henry.

    "Huh, we thought he was a freshman," she murmured.

 (all the matches are right next to each other - everything happening at once.)

  (I understand one of the curlers on Team Germany was 4 to 5 months pregnant)

 (China vs. Canada)

 (Proof we were there)

 

 (Henry Quinn and Lindsey pose)
 
 
     After Lindsey and Quinn and the rest of us helped cheer China to victory over Canada in a nail-biting shootout we began the long cold trek back to the train. Phoebe was practically walking in her sleep when Henry hailed down a taxi. Chris tried to make a run for it feigning a limp when he saw a man in a wheelchair was the other potential passenger.

     “Chris! I think you can go to Hell for that!” Lisa yelled. And we walked on.

     “1-2-3-where’s Lindsey?”

     “I’m right here!”

     At the signal light just before the train we ran into a group of American flags.

     “Denise? Is that you?” I couldn’t have been more surprised who would know me in Canada? “We were at curling too! Wasn’t it great? I didn’t know anything about it before but it was exciting to see that shoot out!” he said with enthusiasm giving me a hug. “Hey, I’m Joe” he said turning to Henry who put out his hand.

     “Joe’s going to be our new tenant,” I explained.

     “Nice flag,” Henry admired.

 (Fireman Joe Spring)
 

     “You too,” Joe laughed.

     “Amy’s moving out?” Quinn lamented. I gave her the elbow to shut up.

     “Yes, Amy has to live closer to be on call for the hospital she works for in Mt. Vernon. So Joe and his girlfriend Kate and their dog Rugby will be moving in. Joe’s was a history major, lived in France and is a fireman,” I informed the group and bid Joe farewell.

     Once on the midnight train, we decided to make a long evening even endless.

 (everyone slowed down the moment the train began to move)

 (even Canada lost their pep)
 

     “C’mon let’s go see the flame,” Lisa encouraged. “You know you’ll be so bummed if you don’t,” she said to Chris.

     “We’re all up for it aren’t we?” I asked the kids, who sleepily nodded. And so after a short snooze on the train they rallied. We asked some of the volunteer Olympic "Smurfs" which way to go and they instructed us it was only a short twenty minute walk. So we marched along down the streets of Vancouver. There was no denying it is a lovely city. 

 (Denise and Lindsey en route to the flame)
 

 (we keep walking toward the flame)
 

     When the flame finally came into view, it took my breath away. I know it's just fire, but I'm an emotional basket-case and it's symbolic of so much more. Peace, unity, sacrifice, determination. My eyes welled up again. People from every country speaking in different languages helped each other take pictures of their families. And then there they were, our Orcas Island family. We took their picture and they took ours. We smiled, shook hands and shared one of the most memorable moments in our lives.

 (Holding the flag- Henry marches in)
 

 (The FLAME)

 (me, Henry,Chris, Quinn, Phoebe,Lisa, Lindsey)
 

 (Our Olympic friends from Orcas Island)
 

    Just then, my phone rang. “Hello?” 

    “Hey! I saw you guys on CNBC!” Tom yelled into the phone.

     “Really? Tom saw us on TV!”

    "OHMIGOSH TOM SAW US ON TV" Phoebe squealed.

    “Yep! I could see Lisa and the face painting," Tom confirmed, "and Quinn and Lindsey chanting with the Chinese? What was that all about?” 

     “They’re on team world,” I informed him.

     "We’re at the flame now".

    "Oh I was wondering, it's really late," He said concerned.

    I’ll call you when we get home,” I assured him, "but I don't think we'll be there until about 3:00AM"

     Exhausted, we retracing our steps when Chris started walking toward a hotel. He figured we could pick up a cab from there to our car as we didn’t know where were now in relation to where we parked.

     As we walked up Chris asked, “Hey can we call a cab from here?”

     “Um, Andrew do we call cabs for Americans?” one of the guys laughed to the other.

     “Come on now,” Lisa joined in, “It’s the only way to get us out of the country”.

     “In that case, where do you want to go?” Chris told him the cross streets. “Nope, you don’t want a cab you’re only three blocks away. If you’re tired, have the kids carry you” he smiled. “Another boy with an American flag – how many are there anyway?” We were all enjoying the good-natured rivalry trading barbs and the kids loved the attention.

     “OK everyone follow me,” Chris bellowed. It was about 1:00 in the morning by now, but strangely no one was complaining or really very tired anymore. We were again filled with excitement of the day and we knew where we were going.  Henry, Lindsey and I were separated by about a block from the rest of the group when a man jumped out of the shadows practically giving me a heart attack. He raised his hand for Henry to give a high five. I breathed a sigh of relief. I felt vulnerable and wanted to catch up with the rest of the group.

     “Mama, you know, this is the most American I’ve ever felt,” Henry said as we continued walking back to the car.

     Behind us we heard footsteps getting closer on the quiet street. I glanced behind me to see a Canadian man dressed in red and white from head to toe. He was a large guy who kept gaining on us slowly. As we were all about to cross the street he yelled with shocking venom

    “F&*@ You Kid!”  directly at Henry.I worried at what Henry would do. I didn’t want any violence. The man was obviously drunk. But Henry was only twelve, so I had no idea how he would handle the situation and there wasn’t time to discuss it. I held my breath as I saw Henry turn to the man.

     “That was nice,” he responded sweetly and walked on. I could breathe. He did have a brain in his head.

    Shaken, a bit Lindsey, Henry and I stopped to regroup once the belligerent hockey fan veered around a corner. I hugged Henry and Lindsey told him how great he'd handled the situation. Just then, Henry pulled an American flag out of some weeds in a planter. 

    "Mama look! Someone lost their flag! Can I keep it?" He asked.

    I suppose so, we're in Canada and no one's coming back for it at this hour," I relented.

    "Look it's got a signature in the stars!" He exclaimed. "I wonder whose name this is." He marveled, "Do you suppose it's an Olympian?"

    "It certainly could be," I surmised as we walked down the lonely street.

 (the yet unknown signature)
 

    We piled in the car and after filling tummies with hamburgers and fries the kids fell asleep. Lisa, Chris and I drove in silence chit chatting here and there about some of the exciting parts of the day until we got to the border. I took out the passports “1-2-where’s Lindsey’s?” I mumbled to myself as I dug into the camera bag again and pulled it out.

     The border agent asked where we’d been, shared in the glory of the hockey game and cajoled with Chris. “Welcome Home folks, have a good night,” he said as we drove through.

     “London 2012?” Chris suggested.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 21st Olympic Odyssey

 (Lindsey)

     Lindsey had a whole week off of school for mid-winter break and since her mother would be teaching skiing lessons at Mammoth all week she begged Awesomez to let her come to the farm.

     “Do you really think you’re up for another one of my children?” Awesomez asked me over the phone.

     “Is that some sort of warning?” I asked. “Actually, I just hope Lindsey isn’t bored. I don’t have anything big planned,” I explained.

     I went to Seattle with Nick to pick her up while my dad took Henry to gymnastics. Everyone was excited to see her, especially her brother. 

 ("The Big-un" Irish was especially happy to see Lindsey)
  (Lindsey snuggles The Big Boy - Irish)
 

During the days Lindsey helped me with farm chores and errands, during the afternoons she went to gymnastics with Henry or volleyball with Quinn and saw Nick at night.

     She saw Grandpa Horn teach band, she helped with the judging at one of Henry’s meets and she met all of Quinn’s friends. She did homework, painted and kept me company.

  (Lindsey sets to painting)
 

 (Grandpa Horn talks to the band)

 (Henry and Lindsey listen to Grandpa Horn)

 (Lindsey flips)

 (Lindsey lands)
 

 (Lindsey works with the ring judge)
  (Nick - hanging out)
 
 
     On Saturday while at Henry’s gymnastic meet, Chris turned to me and said, “We were kind of thinking of driving up to Vancouver tomorrow, you game?”

     “You want to go to the games? The tickets were $600.00 the last time we checked,” I said.

     “Well, we’d like to get into something, Lisa’s checking for some last minute deals but really we thought we just go up and soak in some Olympic atmosphere and see what we see,” he offered.

     I thought about it, I’d had plans we were finally going to try and go get Petite, but that could be postponed. Then there was the problem of Nick. He couldn’t seem to follow any of the rules at home or school so he was not going to be allowed to join us. And then I wasn’t sure if Lindsey even had her passport. We couldn’t go without Lindsey. Luckily, Lindsey’s brilliant mother had the foresight to pack her passport. We were good to go.

     The next morning, we met the Donaldson clan at Nugent’s Corner and all piled into their van. Henry had hurriedly painted red U-S-A posters to take with us “just in case”. The paint was still wet so we put them on the dashboard to dry and headed north.

     Crossing into Canada is one of my least favorite things to do, but if we wanted to go to the Olympics, we had no choice. I prepared the kids. “Now remember, these people have not one ounce of humor in their bodies. You don’t kid, joke or in any way say something sarcastic. Don’t get nervous, just speak if you’re spoken to, don’t add any information, just answer the question being asked”. I instructed.

     “And don’t forget your name!” Lisa added.

     “What?” Lindsey questioned.

     “Henry got so nervous once, he forgot his name,” Quinn informed her.

     “It was just enough of a hesitation for the guy to think I’d kidnapped him” I said dryly, giving my child a look.

     We approached the border and took a collective breath. If the kids didn’t believe me before, they did afterward. Lindsey was grilled and questioned until she was close to a nervous wreck. She answered everything calmly as the Canadian border guard checked all the missing child reports.

     “Who makes you breakfast?” He looked at her seriously. I wondered what she was gong to say. I hadn’t really made a real breakfast.

     “She does,” Lindsey said pointing to me.

     “Do you know her name?” He asked seriously.I worried she was going to forget my name.

     “Denise,” Lindsey answered. Whew.

     “Do you have a note from the mother?” He asked me.

     “No. I don’t, but she did provide the passport,” I offered.

     “You see where I’m going with this?” He asked.

     “Yes Sir and I’d be glad you were asking these questions if it was my child,” I said knowing I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but feeling as though I somehow looked guilty.

     “Do you have any proof of your flight?” He asked. And with all the excitement of a contestant on “Let’s Make a Deal.” Lindsey answered

     “Yes! I have my airline ticket!” She searched her pursed and offered him her ticket. He let us pass.

     "That was certainly the golden ticket, it’s what tipped the scales in our favor. Way to go Lindsey,” Chris praised her.

     “You handled that beautifully,” Lisa added, “Denise do you make breakfast?”

    “I know, I was wondering if Cheerios™ and bagels counted,” I smirked.

     “It’s a good thing you warned me,” Lindsey said depleted.

     From there we made our way onto the King’s Highway and set our course.

     “How long until we get there?” Phoebe asked somewhat predictably.

     “I have no idea, Honey. You act as though I’ve been there. We’re just figuring it out as we go,” Chris informed her as the glare of Henry’s USA posters baked in the sunshine reflecting on the windshield.

  (Henry's U S A sign reflecting)
 

    We parked and joined the party that was Vancouver. Walking down the packed streets you could feel the goodwill. We formed a buddy system, I took pictures of the kids in what they were wearing – just in case – and we set up our if-you-get-lost plan.

  (Canada hats)
 

    “Look there’s Italy!” Henry called out.

 (Italy)
 

     “And Russia!” Lindsey yelled as she saw a red jacket walk by.

 

     “I want one of those USA hats,” Phoebe announced.

     “I want a pin,” Lisa said, “I didn’t get one in ’84 when I went to the equestrian events and I really want one this time”.

     “I want tickets to an event,” Henry insisted. “I don’t care what it is, I just want to go to something”. And so did I. So Lisa, Henry, Phoebe and I took up the hunt as Quinn, Lindsey and Chris meandered slowly captivated by the street carnival. Every time I turned around I couldn’t help but count the kids. I felt like I was on a field trip.

 (Bronze-colored street performer)

 (Broadcast booth in Robson Square)

 (Free zip line over the city - 6 hour wait)

 (Zip line launch next to the flag)

 (painted Canadians)

 (a building in Vancouver)

 (flags fly everywhere)

 (the Dutch)

 (Olympic mascot)

 (Lindsey clowns)

 
 
  (Sweden)

 (Nike™)

 (yeah for our team)

 (the private family entrance for competitors relatives - dreams were being dreamed)
 
 
  (Henry, Lindsey, Quinn, and Phoebe)

 (Vancouver 2010)
 
 
  (Everyone has spirit)

 

 (Henry, me, Phoebe, Lisa, Quinn and Chris)
 
 
       “1-2-3-where’s Lindsey?” I asked.

         “I’m right here,” she said practically under my arm.

         Not knowing where we were going, we followed the crowd across Vancouver in a hurried pace. We didn’t know where but we knew we had to get there soon if we wanted tickets. Henry approached every scalper he passed, but they were mostly buying not selling.

     “Your mother would be crying by now,” I told Lindsey as she caught up.

     “I know, right? She’d still be back at the car. She walks so slowly,” Lindsey said laughing.

     “I’m so happy to hear you use an adverb,” I gushed.

     “You’re such a teacher,” Lindsey smirked as we were in a half jog along the street.

     “Why are we going so fast?” Lindsey asked.

     “’Cause we might miss something.”

 (en route to the ticket office) (Blast we were behind Captain Canada)
 

     Lisa, Phoebe, Henry and I broke into a run, moving ahead of the pack as we approached the Olympic ticket window. I knew my sister and we both were thinking these people walking near us might oust us out of our potential Olympic experience. We got to the line and eventually to the window.

     “Is there anything? Anything within a modest budget?” she asked the ticket agent. “We need seven seats”.

     “Seven? Wow. Let me look”. And she looked and she looked and we waited anxiously. “I have seven seats to women’s curling tonight”.

     “Curling,” Lisa turned to the kids now surrounding us, “Do you guys want to go to curling? Should we spend the money?”

     “Hell Yes!! I’ll go to anything,” Henry yelled. 

    "Henry you gave up swearing for Lent," I reminded him.

    "Is Hell a swear word?"

    "YES!" Lindsey said.

     “I don’t know anything about it, but I’m up for curling,” Quinn agreed.

     “Is that the one where they use the little brooms?” Phoebe asked.

     “Yes, it is, does that sound ok?”

     “Sure it’s the Olympics,” Phoebe agreed.

     “I’m with Henry I’ll go to anything,” Lindsey answered.

     “Heck yeah, whooo! hooo! Curling!!! Let’s do it!” Chris cheered in great zeal. As we stood there basking in our Olympic triumph we noticed a family standing nearby somewhat despondent. They obviously didn’t get any tickets.  Noticing them, Lisa walked up and tried to help.

     “Did you try getting seats for curling?” Lisa asked the woman. As it turned out they were from Orcas Island and no she hadn’t tried curling. So she got back in line and scored 5! Happily, we all struck up a conversation before departing for the curling match? Curling meet? Curling game? Curling event? Or curling tournament? We weren’t sure.

  (proof we are really going)

 (Lisa at the ticket office)
 
     Tickets in hand we were a bit more relaxed and ready to learn about curling. After riding a train packed like a sardine the Canadian equivalent of BART where I counted at every stop, “1-2-3-where’s Lindsey?”

     “I’m right here,” she said.

  (On the train after it thinned)

 (Lindsey and Phoebe walk and walk)

 (pretty Vancouver)
 
  (Lindsey and Henry- ready to order)
 
      We stopped at a Chinese restaurant for dinner where the kids had their own chopstick freestyle event commentated by the Amazing Donaldson. Afterward we set out walking the rest of the distance to the stadium. I was certainly getting all my steps in for Weight Watchers I thought.

     “You won’t believe it, but a cabbie just asked me where the stadium is,” Chris laughed as we all continued walking. We walked and we walked and we walked first down a busy street and then into a residential neighborhood. There nary a sign marking the route. If it hadn’t for the rest of the curling crowd we never would have found it.

 (Quinn, Phoebe, Lindsey and Lisa on the move)
 

 (lots of details)
 

 (security screening)

 (we're in!)

 (The Chinese are ready for curling)
 

    Excitedly we went in and found our seats. “1-2-where’s Henry? He’s not here,” I informed the rest of the confused group.

     “He was with us at the entrance,” Lisa reminded me.

     “He’s supposed to turn his cell phone on if he’s lost,” Quinn reminded me.

     “Do you think he will?” I asked getting mine out and about to push the button.

     “No,” Quinn and Lindsey answered as we all hurried back on a sweep of the grounds. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My father had filled me with too much child stealing information. My mind sorting through similar memories looking for a match as I ran. I remembered another time Henry had disappeared in a public place. It was in Macys when he was two. I was shopping with my friend, Laura, Phoebe’s godmother. We had just turned our heads for a moment and he was GONE. Frantically we looked, and eventually found him hiding in one of the rounders...

February 7th What Happens In Vegas

 (South Point)

     Bright lights, slot machines, racy billboards and blue-haired ladies with bedazzled jean jackets. We go every year to Vegas in February for the gymnastics Black Jack Invitational. It’s another chance to spend the weekend with Tom who drives in with Henry’s brother and sister, Craig and Laura. And the Lucky Strike extra, we get to see Olympians and Olympic hopefuls during the U.S. National team selection. There’s a super cheap $48.00 direct flight from Bellingham which makes it doable.

  (if it looks like a duck and talks like a duck it's probably - Nick)

    This year there was some debate on whether Nick would join us after his recent behavior, but after some discussion it was decided he would lose his phone, computer, ipod and all choice and independence. To my surprise he took it in good stride accepting the consequences of his actions – at least for now.

     We arrived on Friday leaving time for cheap drinks and a little gambling. Laura lost a little, Tom lost a little and I’m not sure but I think Craig lost more. Meanwhile I went to the room with the kids so Henry would be rested for 6:00 wake-up call. 

  (Laura tries her hand at Black Jack)
 

    In the morning Henry took a bath, had breakfast and mentally prepared for the meet. We dropped him off for warm-up went to breakfast and settled in to watch level 6. Nick worked the video camera and Tom did the stats. Several cups of coffee and six events later we were seated at the awards. Henry had only one personal best at the meet, but he was consistent scoring strong fourteens on everything except on pommel horse.

 (Nick isn't ready to get up)
 

 (Henry doing his Danny Phantom imitation on the bars - with Coach Gordy)

 (Happy Nick?)
 

 (Austin Rudy - at work)
   

 (Mt. Baker's Level 6 - Henry, Trey and Austin)

     As I sat there waiting I watched a woman console her son as he threw a tantrum because he didn’t place in the All Around. I remembered how we’d gone to Vegas the first couple of years and Henry hadn’t gotten anything while his team mates Dylan and Jake raked in the awards. Still I would have been furious at him for such a poor sportsman like display. This boy had two medals around his neck.

    This year I figured Henry would get a medal or two. In the end, he got a third, two seconds and a first place. I was thrilled. In fact, I thought he might for the first time win something in All Around. Craig had calculated the scores so I knew when I heard the sixth place All Around score called I knew Henry would get something. I sat with my camera ready as I heard Trey get fourth. It was at that moment that I realized Henry had a chance at winning. I held my breath. Austin was called for second place. Tears started streaming down my face as I listened to “And your All Around Champion, Henry Miller!”

  (Henry takes 1st place All Around - Austin is 2nd and Trey is 4th)
 

    He looked out at me smiling. My lip was quivering and tears and my tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe it, it made all those hours driving and waiting and watching worth it as I saw the pride on Henry’s face. And his father’s and his brother’s and his sister’s and Nick’s. And let’s face it at least someone in this family won in Vegas.

 (Proud Pea- and his kids Laura, Craig and Henry)

 (Mt. Baker Gymnastics - Coach Gordy Bylin, Austin, Henry and Trey)

 (The arcade)

 (The Winter Cup Challenge)
 

 (Opening of the National Team selection- Jonathan Horton and company)

 (Tom and Nick say good-bye)

 (Nick - the height of fashion)

 (Henry playing fantasticcontraption -with his trophy for the plane - my gamble an earlier flight )

 (Henry, our flight attendant Mimi and Nick)

 (Henry's present from Mimi for winning the All Around - Mimi instructed to share with Nick)
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

January 29th Planes, Trains and Automobiles

 (clearly I need to dust-my room is always the last cleaned)
 
     The alarm jarred me awake at 4:30AM. Terrified I would fall back asleep I shot out of bed. Quickly raced down stairs and hit the coffee then headed for the dryer and checked my tennis shoes. I did not want damp tennies. I fed the dogs, cats and headed back upstairs to roust the boys.

     Nick was understandably reluctant burying his head under a pillow. He’d worked until the early hours of the morning on a China essay, but nonetheless, we had to get going. Henry and I were meeting my dad and Quinn at the airport to catch a flight to Oakland so Henry could compete at Stanford this weekend.

     “Nicky, if you don’t get up. I’ll have to sing a good morning song.” I threatened. “Good Morning, Good Morning little Nick – You don’t have time to sleep now you’ve got to get up really quick.”

    NO! I’m getting up. Don’t sing!” He pleaded.

 

(Nick and Rat-Bat Bruno -in the pink girlie Maryruth room he's staying in- they're blurry because NICK changed the focus on my camera for school)

 (poor pink - Nick - he's trying to claim the room, but it's difficult)
 

 The phone rang. “Saved by the bell.” I said answering the phone, “Hey Mike thanks for calling, I’m up.”

 (Even new little Tabitha who NEVER sleeps is tired)
 

     We were out the door in short order and on our way, as Henry and Nick finished another “Kung Fu” episode en route.

     “I can’t believe you guys are leaving me on my birthday,” Nick moaned.

     “I know, I can’t either,” I agreed.  “I had no idea when I booked the tickets for the Stanford competition that it was the same weekend.” I felt terrible we were leaving, but suspected he was going to want to spend most of the time with his friends anyway. He’d worked hard getting in his missing assignments and meeting his deadlines. I was proud of his recent efforts.

     “You could have come,” Henry said.

     “No, it’s finals I really couldn’t.” Nick added practically.

     We drove in silence all of us reluctant about our upcoming separation. Lisa was meeting us at the airport at 6:45AM with Quinn and my dad and we were exchanging passengers. She’d take Nick to school and I’d d fly out of Bellingham International with my entourage.

     After lots of hugs and “Happy Birthdays” and “Good-luck on your final” and “Don’t for get to turn in your Vis Comm. assignments” and “Do you have that paper you needed?” and “You’ve got your snack bag right? And “Have fun,” Nick got in Lisa’s van.

     “Good luck with Dad. He was ready at the door like a golden retriever waiting for a ball. Rushing me to leave an hour before we had to go. But I had to laugh, we left and HE was the one who forgot his reading glasses.” She said chuckling. “Have a great time. Good luck Henry!” Lisa called out the window as she drove off.

     After getting our seat assignments Henry, Quinn and I put our bags down right in front of Halibut Henry’s, a tiny store, in the small airport.  I looked around, “Where’s your grandfather?” I asked.

     “Uh, I have no idea,” Quinn said. “Maybe he went to get a coffee?”

     “No. He went through security already.” Henry said.

     “What? No. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave us.” I said, but knew the truth. When it comes to traveling he is a lone wolf always rushing. “Henry go look in the bathroom.”

     “OK, but I thought I saw him go through security.” We waited while Henry searched the airport for my father. Finally, I dialed his number.

     “Where are you?”

     “I went through security. I thought you were right behind me.”

     “I thought we were traveling together.” I said slamming the phone shut.

     It was probably best he’d gone ahead because we are a security check nightmare. Two bins for jackets, shoes in another, two computers out of their cases in separate bins. A bin for my purse, a bin my camera and a bin for my carry-on, then cell phones and Quinn’s shmancy belt in yet another bin. I think my father would have had a break down.

     We landed inauspiciously in Oakland and made our way to Air BART where we paid to get to the BART. My father maintaining a forty-step lead at all times.

     “What’s with Grandpa he’s always way ahead of us? He acts as if it’s a race” Quinn mused.

     “He likes to keep moving, when I was a kid we were always three hours early for every flight.”

     “He’s crazy” Henry marveled.

     “He likes to get where he’s going early and then read,” I explained.

 (Grandpa Horn pensive - because he's behind schedule?)
 

     From there we heaved our luggage on to the transport. Once at the BART station we figured out how to purchase a senior ticket, two kid tickets and a regular fare, once purchased, we had to make our way through the turn-style. This is simple for most people, but most people aren’t Quinn. She was scared. She put her ticket in and then didn’t know if she should grab it or which one to go through and for a moment I thought we might have to leave her on the other side of the plastic orange gates, but surprisingly she was able to amble through at the last moment.

     “I thought it was going to close on me!” She screamed.

     “Oh, Quinn.” Henry chided.

     We were making our way to first to San Francisco but eventually to Palo Alto. I didn’t want to rent a car because Tom would be driving up and it seemed silly to have two, so we were going to make our way on public transportation. If it killed us.

     As we took our seats on BART Henry turned “At least this time it doesn’t smell like urine.”

     “EWWWW Henry! Stop!” Quinn shooshed him.

 (Quinn, Henry on BART)

 (Ahhh the city - San Francisco)
 
      Twenty minutes later we climbed the steps of the Embarcadero exit, Henry quickly realized we were standing at the same street corner we had last year.

     “Mama that’s exactly where we were standing in the rain when the drunk guy was bugging us remember?”

    "Henry you look like a goat herder with that hat on," my father decided.

    "What?" Henry "Why?" 

    "Where's your goat?"

    "Grandpa! You're so weird," Quinn had made her decision.

     Ahh memories, I thought it was time for some new ones. “You know we don’t have to be at the hotel at any certain time. Is there anything you want to do?”

     “I want to ride a trolley car,” Quinn announced.

     “I want to eat,” Henry added. “Hey there’s a trolley car going to Fisherman’s Wharf, can we go?”

     And off we went, my father leading the way.

 (Grandpa Horn leading the way with Henry close behind)
 

 (Trolley car)

 (Pier 39)

 (Quinn get's her wish)
  (Missing Nick - on Fisherman's Wharf)
 
     Taking a page out of my mother’s handy-dandy-have-a-good-time-and-make-memories-philosophy, we decided to go for a nice white tablecloth lunch. Spotting Aliotos, we crammed ourselves into the elevator suitcases and all.

     Henry ordered grilled salmon, my father had a beer with his fish and chips and Quinn stated “I don’t eat fish.”

     “Oh yes you are young lady.” I insisted. “You are on Fisherman’s Wharf and you will eat something on the menu other than bread. Have some fish and chips. Just pretend it’s chicken nuggets.”

     “Alright, I’ll have the chicken nuggets.” Quinn acquiesced reluctantly, but good-naturedly. “Just don’t call them fish.”

     “I’m so proud of you,” the waiter laughed as she ordered. “You’re really stepping outside yourself.” He teased.

 (Henry, Quinn and me at Aliotos)

 (part of the view from Aliotos on Fisherman's Wharf)
 

     We enjoyed our lunch although the food wasn’t as good as it had once been, but the view was spectacular. The sky blue with puffy white clouds and boats bobbing in the distance, we talked about so many different things.

    "Where's your goat Henry?" Grandpa Horn barked as he made his way to the restroom.

     “Denise, I didn’t know Grandpa was so funny.” Quinn remarked.

     “I know right? I always thought he was uptight without much of a sense of humor, but he’s laughing and telling jokes,” Henry added.

     “I know, I’ve never really seen him laugh,” Quinn said.

     “Really? My father has always been funny. He’s the dad who’d dress up or build a float for the parade. He’s the big eight-year-old who never grew up. I think it’s that he can’t hear your high-pitched voices as well so he doesn’t really respond.”

     “I always thought he was serious until today,” Quinn said and Henry nodded.

 (Henry and Quinn with full tummies)
 

     As we stood at the Wharf waiting for the trolley, Quinn said she wanted to look inside a bakery nearby. So the two of us went in and browsed for a while. When we came back we found Henry wound up like a top.

     “YOU MISSED IT! Grandpa went to war! Full on war with the Jamaicans!” Henry blathered.

     “What are you talking about?” Quinn asked looking at Henry as if he’d lost his mind.

     “The Jamaicans over there were playing to a big crowd and Grandpa pulled out his horn and started a rivalry. They’d play and then he’d play and then he stole some of the crowd it was crazy,” Henry babbled proudly.

     Henry turned to Quinn, “Quinn, since I want to switch from the cornet to the oboe, next semester do you think my grandchildren will call me Grandpa Oboe?”

     Quinn paused a moment looking at Henry, “The way you dress, with that stained sweatshirt I think they’re going to call you Grandpa Hobo,” she said boarding the trolley.

     “The oboe? Are you kidding?” My father exclaimed when he heard. “You’ll sound like a *&%$#@% snake charmer. You won’t be able to play jazz. No one uses an oboe.”  My father snarled. Undaunted, Henry just rolled his eyes. This family is not for the faint of heart.

     “They had an oboe in the Paul Whiteman Band. I checked,” I said protecting my son.

     “Did they?” My father was silenced.

 (Grandpa fresh from the battle of the brass - Quinn and Henry - getting a little tired)
 

  Grandpa Horn was up and down on the trolley ride three times asking the conductor when we should get off and what connection to make to get to the train station. And once we were off we marched at a fast pace crossing streets on the diagonal, weaving through crowds of people all the while toting our luggage.

     Finally at the bus stop we waited with a huge crowd. Bus after bus came and went while we waited for the number 30. Eventually, it arrived and we crammed into the center holding on to straps while trying to protect our belongings.

     “Mom zip your purse and tuck it under your arm, this isn't Bellingham,” Henry warned me. I was touched. He remembered all my warnings about theft and crime and was now protecting me.

     The crowd thinned out stop by stop and yet we continued to ride until the end of the line. When it was our turn we gathered together adjusting our straps and stacking our luggage ready for the next leg of our journey.

     “How far to the train station?” Quinn asked innocently.

     “Uh Quinn, it’s that big building in front of you that says TRAIN STATION,” Henry said.

     “If she had a brain she’d be dangerous,” my father added and Quinn giggled so hard she almost fell down in the street.

     Once again, we stood trying to figure out how to get a senior ticket to travel three zones, two kids’ tickets and a regular fare. Each time we did it was completely different yet easy once you knew what you were doing.

     “What time is it?” Henry asked.

    “3:05PM” My father answered.

     “The train leaves at 3:06 let’s go!” Henry called as he and Quinn took off.

     “We’ll never make it,” Grandpa Horn warned, “It’s too late.”

     “We’ll make it, we’ll make it! C’mon Grandpa run!” Quinn yelled over her shoulder. Her hair and legs flying in all directions, “Now he wants to take his time!”

 (Henry and Quinn race to the train - Henry figures if he gets on - we'll all get on)
 

    We boarded the train out of breath. The kids victorious wanted to ride on the upper deck and so we sat watching the scenery go by. I fell asleep as did everyone else. We were losing steam. An hour later and three exits before our stop, my father started getting his stuff all packed up and strapped on. “We’d better start downstairs we only have a couple stops until San Antonio,” he warned. “It’s going to take a while to get down the stairs with all of our stuff. C'mon Henry don't forget your goat."

    "Grandpa why does this hat make you think of goats?" Henry asked again laughing.

     “He’s doing. It again.” Quinn said. “He’s driving me nuts. It’s maybe 50 steps altogether.”

     “Welcome to my childhood.” I said.

     “No wonder you’re always on time. You took part of it, and my mother completely rebelled. This must be why she’s always running late.” I laughed as Henry and Quinn psycho-analyzed us, which is fine as long as I come out the good one.

     “Let’s hang back just to drive him a little nuts,” Quinn said insidiously.

     “Fun and games with Grandpa. The only problem is, I don’t think he’ll care,” Henry said. “He’ll just leave us behind,” Henry laughed.

     When we’d all gotten off the train and it had snaked away. We stood there in silence. It was quiet and we were in the middle of nowhere. There were no shops just apartments. Which way next was a complete mystery. We just stood there for a couple of minutes thinking about our predicament.

     My father wanted to head right, so of course Quinn said left. We went left and my father dragged behind. We ended up at a little cybercafé where we got an espresso and directions to our hotel about another mile away. 

 (The Crossroads Cafe)

 (Grandpa Horn looking for directions)
 

    My father charged out the door and down the street as it began to rain. “So much for sunny California,” Quinn moaned.

     “Hush, just keep walking,” I encouraged. “We’ll be there soon.”

     “Not soon enough, I just want to get in the heated pool,” Henry said dreamily.

 (Quinn now wishing she'd chosen to go to the Las Vegas gymnastics meet instead)
 

     As we walked we approached a hardware store. “Stay here. Watch my stuff. I’m going to go in and see if we’re heading in the right direction,” Grandpa Horn announced.

    When he emerged he announced there was a faster way but we had to double back the way we came. The rain was getting harder so in true Washingtonian fashion, we put our hoods up and went on.

    “Grandpa, there’s a lady from the hardware store whistling for you! Stop Grandpa!” Henry called from the back of the line.

    We all came to an abrupt halt as my father went over to talk to her. “Would you like a ride?” She asked pleasantly.

    “Sure, we’d love one,” Grandpa Horn answered all smiles. Quinn shot me a look as if to say ‘are we really going to hitchhike’? I know she was wondering what her parents would think of this. I too was wondering what I thought of this. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged my shoulders unsure. I weighed the options, I could walk a mile or so in the rain with my father and two kids or take a ride from a slightly overweight woman who seemed smitten with my father. We took the ride.

 (Grandpa Horn loads the luggage)
 

    “Grandpa’s a chick magnet,” Henry said quietly to Quinn as we got into the back of the truck who nodded in agreement.

 

 

 

 

January 16th Come On Get Happy

 (relief map - showing Bellingham, Bainbridge Island and some of the other San Juans)

Fast and furious is Henry’s gymnastics season. We drive sixty-miles a day four days a week for his three hour work-outs and then, there are only about six to eight meets, but they are BAMM, BAMM, BAMM. Last weekend was the Washington Open and today Bainbridge Island.

    To get to Bainbridge Island on time we had to leave bright and early. Bright and early is neither an accurate term nor one often used in the winter in the Pacific Northwest. It doesn’t actually get light these days until about 8:00AM. However I digress; we picked up Phoebe and headed out. Sipping my coffee I smiled as I listened to the “Partridge Family” DVD blaring from the backseat. Another generation was giggling as Danny Bonaduce traded barbs with Mr. Kinkaid, and about every twenty minutes I could hear Henry and Phoebe break into:

 

C'mon now and meet everybody


And hear us singin'.


There's nothin' better than bein' together


When we're singin'.

Five of us and mom working all day.
…

 

(maybe a little corny or a little 70s, but ethics, morals and kindness abound)

We drove happily a long until coming to a stop. Phoebe looked up.

“Where are we?”

     “At the ferry terminal, why?”

     “Oh, I thought those were three-drive thru coffee kiosks,” she said inspecting the pay stations at Edmonds. I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle. I liked the way she looked at the world. I looked again, and wished they were coffee kiosks.

 (the ferry terminal pay booth - but could be a coffee kiosk)

    We were so early we made the ferry prior to the one we’d been rushing to board. I am my father’s daughter – terminally early. When we were kids well before the advent of Homeland Security and inspections my father was still five hours early for a flight. Awesomez called and wished Henry luck. "What's that music?"

    "The Partridge Family," I said unapologetically.

    "Seriously?"

    "Where did they get that?"

    "I own it."

    "Why am I not surprised."

     We parked the car on the lower deck and went above to enjoy the ride. The wind in our hair and the sun on our faces it was already a wonderful day despite whatever happened at the meet.

 (Phebe-zilla on the way to Kingston)
  (Phoebe and Mike wait for the meet to begin)

    We took our seats and gave Henry our last minute advice. Phoebe instructed him to smile and take off his bulky shorts when he was wearing his white paints. I begged him as always to point his toes if he loved me. Mike who’d met us there simply wished him good luck and we all settled into watch. Tom of course, was in California standing by with his cell phone awaiting the meet stats.

     Phoebe the official score keeper took the program and waited.  Henry’s warm-up on parallel bars was dismal. Legs bent, toes flexed I was fit to be tied. It didn’t look good for today. Muttering to myself I barely heard Kim, Austin’s mom, when she turned around.

     “I just love to watch Henry on the p-bars. That is definitely his event.”

     “He looked pretty sloppy though, don’t you think?”

     “Maybe for Henry,” Kim assured me.

     “Did you see his legs?” I asked incredulous, but Kim gave me a dismissive look. I wondered if I was one of those mom’s that could never be pleased.  I turned to Phoebe, “Did you think Henry looked good just now?”

     “He looked terrible.” Strangely, I felt relieved. “Did you see his legs” She asked.  We’re almost always on the same page.

 (Coach Gordy Bylin preps the parallel bars before Henry competes)

     The meet began and almost like magic Henry performed on the parallel bars. It was a stunning performance. Phoebe was almost out of her seat. Mike was clapping deliriously and Kim turned around and looked at me raising her eyebrows.

     “It was beautiful this time, he looked like a different kid,” I said as the score came in a 14.3  Next, he was off to high bar. His arms still visibly bent as he did his giants, I was nervous to see the score.

     “The routine looked good, but the judge can take off for his arms,” I cautioned Phoebe.  But the score came in at a rousing 14.6. Again, Phoebe was hopping up and down on the bleachers. Mike was slapping his leg and we were thrilled. And then something unusual happened. The judge called a conference. Henry walked somberly up into the stands and leaned over to me.

     “The judge changed my score. He added wrong.”  Worried about his bent arms I put my hand on his shoulder.

     “What did they lower it to?” I asked softly ready to console my boy as he broke into a smile.

    “Mama, he didn’t lower it. He raised it! I got a 14.8”

    “Really?” Phoebe squealed. Henry putting his hands on my knees and rubbing noses with me he nodded enthusiastically.

     “Really! He raised my score. Did you think he lowered it?”  He laughed.

    "I did. Did he really raise it?" Henry nodded again laughing. 

    "Oh Mama."

     The rest of the meet was much more relaxed. Henry either did his best score or just about on every event except the dreaded pommel horse. He miscounted and left out a rotation.

     “Did you video tape everything?” Tom hoped.

 “Uh, not this time. I just figured we had so much of him, I wanted to just watch this time.”

     The awards for level six were exciting. From the moment I heard the sixth place score I knew Henry would get something. Fourth place was called and third, his teammate Trey, then Austin took second. I held my breath. I looked over at Henry who seemed to be in a trance as “And your level six champion Henry Miller!” was called. He bounded up to the top of the podium with unbridled enthusiasim. “Gymnasts salute” I tried to take a picture. My camera battery was low and jammed.

 (Henry is in first place -this picture is just after the salute- oops)

    Leaning over to Mike who was at this point clapping so enthusiastically he barely noticed me, “Wouldn’t you know he wins and I miss the shot.”

     “Oh no, really?”

     “Has Henry ever won the whole thing before?” Phoebe asked.

     “Nope, never.”

     “I’m so glad I’m here,” Phoebe smiled and ran over to hug Henry.

     And then as if the day couldn’t get any better Mount Baker Gymnastics took first place in the team awards.

 (Mt. Baker Gymnastics wins Level 6 team award - Henry,Trey Davis and Austin Rudy)

 (Austin, Coach Gordy, Henry and a very happy Trey)     Afterward, we said good-bye to Mike as he headed back down to Tacoma. The kids popped the Partridge Family back in. "Now Henry, you're still going to have to work on pushing yourself away from the high-bar. The next judge might deduct for that you know." 

    "I know Mama," Henry placated me as he fiddled happily with his medal,"I will".

 

 

January 7th The Accused

 (calm but confused - handsome Cluck-Cluck crows - and crows and crows and crows)

    During the extreme cold I spent almost my entire paycheck from the Everybody’s Store on supplies for the chickens, turkeys, ducks and other barn animals. After all, water is essential to life and if it gets cold for a long period of time it can be lethal. So I bought poultry water containers, heat lamps, bulbs and a newfangled water container for poultry that you plug in.

     I usually go to the same two feed stores in Bellingham, but necessity forced me to go to a different feed store in Burlington near Henry’s gymnastics. Unfortunately, I was disappointed. The heat lamps didn’t have clamps on the back like a work light so I couldn’t affix them to a piece of wood. Instead, I had to fashion ropes to hang them, which can be difficult and awkward depending on the location. I prefer to attach them with a rope AND use a clamp. I like back up plans as I worry about animals and electricity, barn fires and all of that. Henry, Nick and I set up a couple and I decided to wait on the others after I saw how these went.

     We also filled the metal waterers. I had intended to put one heat lamp next to each as I do in the chicken coup. The idea is simple. Put the heat lamp protective metal cage next to the metal water container and the heat conducts from the lamp through the water container keeping the temperature warm enough to prevent the water from freezing solid. I thought of back through my students to the smart but unruly, David Abergel who said my lessons on conductivity, states of matter and the water cycle – were a waste of time. Hmmph. I still claim to be smarter than a fifth grader.

     After close inspection I realized, the new waterers were also somewhat flimsy in comparison to the two I already had, but beggars can’t be choosers so I took what I could get. Anything is better than a water bucket when it comes to birds. Geese are the worst, they dip their heads in the bucket and try to preen themselves, they crowd around, excluding the ducks from getting a drink then they flap their big powerful wings and eventually tip the bucket over spilling it and soaking their pen. A ritual we went through every night. 

     The problem with the waterers was that every morning we came in to find the waterers completely empty and water all over the floor. Frustrated and annoyed I surmised they leaked, but to be sure, I had Henry take them outside and test them. He filled them both up and did not put the tops on. In theory they should hold water. Instead, they had drips coming from the “spring”. A little metal piece that when depressed by the lid sliding over it allows the water to flow out into the trough or moat-type area.

     “Look Mom, it keeps dripping from here on both of these and it doesn’t when I do the chicken one. “

 (empty waterer without the top)

 ("spring that's been leaking - that should hold water until depressed by the top)
 

 (hook in trough)
 (top that goes over and latches on the hook)
  

     “Well, I’m not sure it makes complete sense to me, because when you put the lid on, that area would be depressed, but I do know they leak.”

    To make matters worse, the heat lamps had been knocked by the poultry and had singed the cedar shavings black. Luckily the burning did not result in a barn fire, but it did scare the very life out of me, Henry and Nick when we realized what could have happened. We decided to take the unused lights back, but keep the bulbs, we need them eventually.

     The next time I was in Burlington and had to pick up a few things I returned the birdbath heater I’d hoped to use for the ducks, but didn’t and the crummy heat lights sans clamps. During the transaction, I mentioned the problem I was having with my waterers to the big man behind the counter. “I find it odd, both of them leak, but every morning they’re down to the level of the trough and I have to fill them up. It’s no better than using a bucket. Water is everywhere.”

     “Bring ‘em back,” he said.

     “Really? I’ve used them several times.”

     “That’s OK. You can bring them back.  No problem.”  He assured me.

     And so I did. I walked in with Tom and found the same my big guy behind the counter. I reminded him of our previous discussion and put the waterers on the counter. He instructed some scrawny teenager to take them out and test them. The puny kid with his pants hanging down below his rear end came back and reported “They don’t leak.”

     “Umm, yes they do.” I said sternly, but calmly. “They don’t leak from the trough, they leak from the spring area.”

     “They don’t leak,” the greasy haired kids smirked. He was starting to annoy me.

     “I’m sorry, but perhaps you don’t know where I mean.” I could see the linebacker salesman sensing my increasing hostility and since he was Mr. Customer Service he stepped in to break things up.

    “You know, it doesn’t matter whether they leak he said. If you’re not happy with them we can take them back.”

     “I really do need waterers so I would be happy to exchange them for two that work.” I said trying to demonstrate my intentions. He smiled, nodded and checked their stock.

     “Unfortunately, we don’t have two in stock in that size, but I live near the Stanwood store, I could pick two up and if you can come back tomorrow, I can swap them for you then.” A very reasonable and kind offer.

     “Thank you for your trouble. We’ll be back tomorrow,” I said smiling as Tom picked up the waterers and we went back to gymnastics.

     The next day, at the same bat time and the same bat channel Tom and I walked in the store with my faulty waterers, only my friendly salesman wasn’t there instead I found the small blond who had tried to sell me everything in the store when the weather was cold. The same woman from whom I’d ordered four plug-in waterers. The waterers that never appeared – except one, which is why I had to get the leaky waterers in the first place.

      I took a deep breath and explained the situation. Her brow furrowed. Tom figuring the whole thing was a done deal went to look for cat litter.

     “Yes, I heard about you.” She smiled, but her tone belied her true feelings. I was immediately on the alert. She looked at me with the – difficult customer look. I knew the glare. I’ve seen it a million times used on customers while I wait behind them as they insist on some dumb request like exchanging a two-year old dead rose bush or asking for an entire table of people’s meal comped because one dinner wasn’t hot. I was insulted. I am not a difficult customer. I wasn’t even going to try to bring these ding-dang waterers back until Mr. NFL told me to. And given they were about twenty dollars each I felt they should work.

     “Um, I heard they didn’t leak, but you want to exchange them anyway.” She said with attitude flipping her blond mane back. So much for kind country folk, I took a deep breath and mindful of my tone I chose my words carefully.

     “That's incorrect. They absolutely do leak, but the boy that tested them didn’t know where to look.” I responded not letting my increasing irritation creep into my inflection. I looked her straight in the eye and didn’t say another word.

     “When did you buy them?” She asked.

     “You sold them to me during the cold snap.” I informed her.

     “Right, you returned a lot of other stuff.” Ahh, I could see where this was going. I was now some sort of return artist, the unsavory sort trying to pull some sort of nefarious chicken waterer scam. “Perhaps you don’t know how to use them.” She seethed.

     “I know how to use a chicken waterer,” I countered “It’s really not that difficult. You fill it up and put the top on. You turn it so it catches on the latch and you can either hang it or put it up on a block of wood.”

     “You really are supposed to hang it,” she quibbled. That was it. Now she was telling me I was too stupid to use a chicken waterer.

     “I’ve never hung my other ones and they work perfectly.” I said with tone. “They leak.”

     Well, let’s just see about that,” she said as she grabbed the both the waterers off the counter and stormed outside. I followed her as she marched angrily to the hose.” She took the lid off one and started filling it up, but only went about the same height as the trough.

     “You need to put more in, it leaks to the level you have filled to,” I instructed.

     “This is enough,” she stated flatly without looking up. “It’s not leaking.” She said victoriously.

     “Umm, yes it is, right there.” I pointed as the drips were dripping.

     “That doesn’t matter,” she said dismissively.

     “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? All the water is gone by morning. It leaks.” I said frustrated.

     “Do you watch it?” She asked snidely. “It doesn’t leak” she insisted pointing to the trough.

     “Fine, I don’t want to argue with you about it anymore. I'm unhappy with them. I think they leak, but obviously, you’re going to see what you want to see. I’m just never shopping here again,” I promised.

     “That’s just fine,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. I wanted to say a million obnoxious rude and offensive things, but I didn’t. I wanted to fling the waterers at her, but I didn’t. I wanted to do something, but I didn’t. I just left wounded and upset. I want to say my mother raised me better than that, but honestly, my mother would have said something rude. Christina Mary Gabrielle Haenel Miller was nobody's doormat. She would have stood up for herself not caring if the woman thought she was a nutcase or not. 

     I  was upset the entire night. I had been charged with  being dumber than a chicken and that flippant farm girl with dark roots had implied I was a liar and some kind of thief. Did she think I just bought and returned used farm supplies for fun and profit?I stomped around Target and fumed through Home Depot. How dare she. What could I have done differently? I do not handle indictments of wrong-doing well. My word, my pride my very essence was being called into question. And when you’ve lost your income, your job title, you have creditors calling you, all you have left is your honor. No matter, I’d never ever see her again.

 The problem was, the very next day I realized I needed chicken feed. “I AM NOT going back there, so we’ll have to go get feed before we go to gymnastics,” I explained to Tom on the phone from work. “I’ll come get you when I get off, but we’ll have to hurry.”

     “I’ll be ready,” he assured me. “I already gave the cows a round bale, changed the cat boxes, fed everyone and brought the trash cans in, I did some laundry, cleaned up the kitchen and brought some gravel down to the pasture.” My handsome prince.

     “Great! See you soon.”

     All was going according to schedule, when my sister called. “There you are. I’ve been trying to call you. Nick missed the bus. He says he was talking to his teacher. Can you pick him up? Otherwise he’ll miss his first tutoring appointment.”

     “You're kidding me, I have to run some errands, but I guess they’ll wait.” We picked Nick up and dropped him at Lisa’s then Tom, Henry and I went down to Burlington.

     “I am not going back there,” I insisted. “I’ll go get cash and send Henry in, but I am not going back there no matter what. I am not,” I said emphatically.

     “Why not?” Henry asked completely confused.

     “Because the lady at the feed store told your mom she didn’t know how to use the chicken waterers and said they didn’t leak.”

     “But they do leak,” Henry insisted.

     “I KNOW!” I said very quickly getting upset all over again. 

     Tom and I looked in the Yellow Pages and found an alternate feed store. When we were at the registered I turned to the woman “Do you have to hang a chicken waterer for it to work properly?” I asked quietly.

     “Well, they say it works better, but honestly I’ve had chickens for years and I’ve never bothered.” I liked her. Yet it still nagged at me. Was the power-monger right? Did I do something wrong?

     After we picked up the food from the chatty warehouse guy, Adam we picked up Henry and headed home. It was late, but we had to put the animals away. Tom brought the bags of chicken feed to the coup. I did the hay and Henry filled the water buckets.

    I could hear Tom from outside while I was in the barn. "You want to go? Bring it. You've picked on the wrong guy this time you *%$#$@er Speedy. We'll see how speedy you are." Tom ranted holding a 2X4.

    Meanwhile Chester, the rooster, kept attacking Henry with his spurs. He’d fly up feet forward from behind Henry and Whack!

     “Ouch that hurts!” Henry wailed. “Every time he sees me he attacks me Mom! And yesterday, Speedy attacked me when I ran across the yard. He came up from behind me.”

     “I know Speedy did it to me too,” Tom answered. "I don't care. 'll take him out if I have to."

     “I guess it’s a boy thing. No one’s doing a thing to me,” I noticed.

    “No. Mom, Amy said they did it to her too,” Henry added.

    “I’m done with these guys. They’d make a good chicken pot pie,” Tom sayid eyeing Speedy.

 (Speedy Gonzales - on the move)
 

 (Chester in a calm moment)
 

    “Look now Chester is attacking Cluck-Cluck! He’s going to kill him. We’ve got to separate them. Cluck-Cluck didn’t do anything.” So following Henry’s instruction I started chasing Chester with a broom trying to get him out of the barn. Henry was there in body, but not in spirit. Everytime Chester turned toward Henry, Henry turned and ran shrinking into a corner.

    “Henry! You’re no help if you runaway. You’re the barrier so I can corral him. Here take a broom and defend yourself,” I thought about what was happening. We were afraid four safety and were now armed battling our poultry.

    “I hate chickens,” Henry said with disgust.

 

January 1st The Game of Life

 (Bruno trying to get a Monopoly- stretching out - from Luther's bed to his new one - )
 

    New Year’s Eve is a time for reflection. What got accomplished and what didn’t. I try to accentuate the positive, but after taking a tally for the year I have to say 2009 was not my year. Sure there were successes we built a chicken coop, the pond was filled with water again and we got a snuggly bovine not to mention that gentle equine rapscallion, but in the end – I’m more than ready to move on. 2010 for me is a hope for a better tomorrow.  A hope for a pig or two, the belief that I’ll be the hero of the family and make enough money so Tom can move here full time.

    To this end, I spent much of the day allowing my superior Virgo instincts to take control, stuffing my overly emotional Pisces moon to the side. I began by making my new daily schedule. The key to success is organization. I know this deep in my heart, just as I know butter is the secret to happiness.

    Tom, Mike and I sat around in the kitchen in our pajamas with big mugs a coffee as I held court. I began with goals for the first quarter. Goals for Henry’s Honey, goals for weight loss, goals for Henry, goals for Nick, goals for the house, goals for the farm, goals for Irish and goals for Tom. After all a Virgo girl knows everyone in our life needs us to take control and help each of them out a little bit, gently guiding each of them in the right direction. It was just as I was about done that I heard Mike slinking out of the room trying to escape. I have ears like a deer – ask any fifth grader whoever tried to tell a secret in the back of my classroom. “Not so fast Michael. I hear you skulking away,” I hollered into the hallway.

    “What?” He laughed. “I thought it best I exit about this time. It seems it’s about my turn.”

    “I’ll leave you alone for now,” I promised like a cat letting the mouse go – for a time.

    For dinner Tom thoughtfully cooked a delicious chicken potpie from my Weight Watcher’s Comfort Classics Cookbook. We rented The Sting, Julie & Julia and Four Christmas’s then built a fire and settled in for a comfy evening. We got a late start on the New Year by about twenty-five minutes. Snap, we were already behind schedule.

 (black-eyed peas for prosperity in the New Year)
 

    The next morning, I confirmed our plans with my sister “We’re making black eyed peas…”

    “We were planning to come over around noon if that’s ok.”

    “That’s great, but I feel badly. We rented an auger this weekend so we could get four days for the price of one and put up the arena fence down by the barn. I just don’t think we can stop working until later in the day.”

    “We’ll wear our work clothes then. Sounds fun. I’ve never used an auger. I’ll tell Mike and Tom and we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

    “Really?,” she said a little surprised.

    "You bet." I turned to Tom after hanging up. “The Donaldson’s need to put up some fence so we’re gong to help them. She thought we be bummed.” He laughed.

    “Do they know us?” He smirked.

    “I know right?” Henry interjected.

    “You mean we have to work?” Nick moaned, “That’s not my job.”

    “Finally, something really fun to do over there.” I chirped as I went to throw on my boots. I love a project.

 (playing the parts of Ma & Pa Kettle- a tired, rained on dirty pair of love birds - Chris & Lisa - )

  (Cody and Tom meet - while Phoebe cleans the corral)
 

 (Phoebe works hard)

 (Mike & Chris use the auger to get the posts in)

    We got there and got to work in short order. Quinn made dinner – chicken potpie from the Weight Watcher’s Comfort Classics Cookbook.

    “We just had that last night,” I laughed.

    “It’s OK, I could eat it for every meal,” Mike encouraged her.

    “Me too!” Henry agreed wholeheartedly.

    “I really like it, it has a good taste. The fennel really gives it a fuller richer flavor,” Tom concurred.

    I supervised the preparation while doing some other chores. Quinn chopped onion, sautéed garlic, baked and shredded chicken, measured broth, melted butter, combined ingredients and learned what a saucepan is.

    “I am never making a dinner that takes this long again,” she whined until it was served to a bunch of very hungry fence builders who loved it beyond measure.

    “Mom? Maybe I could make this again soon since you were looking to pay me for doing some of the cooking.”

    “Really? I thought you,” I started as Quinn jabbed me sharply in the ribs.

    Quinn, the quirky accident prone girl who thought she had a sixth toe one morning, because she counted wrong and was immediately concerned that she might have to pay a higher price for pedicures seems to have turned into a fairly multi-talented teen. She's determined to save enough money for a car when she's sixteen and so she' babysits and has a projected amount she needs to save a month for the next three years. So to add to her income she is teaching herself how to cut hair. She cooked dinner and then offered to cut Tom’s hair. She’s b has been practicing on Chris and needed some different hair.

 (Quinn is teaching herself)

 (a lesson from the book - Chapter Seven "How to cut short layers into the hair")
 

    “She gave me side bangs,” Phoebe said as she showed off her new do.

    “Well, your bangs aren’t at all even,” I pointed out critically. I hated to do it, but if I was going to consider having my hair trimmed I might want to wait until she’s had some more practice.

    “That’s not my fault. She’s just annoying she keeps sweeping that part over. She didn’t want me to cut it,” Quinn corrected as she leaned forward and fixed Phoebe’s hair.

 (Phoebe chatting and laughing about her side bangs and her sister)
 

    Tom took the risk as Quinn wrapped the towel around him. “Oh my, the drape doesn’t reach entirely around your shoulders, they’re so broad,” Quinn cooed.

    “She’s got the talk down. She’ll some make good tips.” Tom offered.

 (Quinn is ready to cut tom's hair)

 (Quinn hard at work on Tom's hair - he looks a little nervous)
 

    “Hmm. Let’s see do you think boys are going to pay five dollars to let Quinn cut their hair? Yeah, I’m going to say they’re going to line-up,” Mike concurred.

    “Your next Mike,” I laughed.

    “ I'm game”.

    “Considering it’s our Quinnie, I think she should call it Running With Scissors,” Lisa smirked.

    “That’s a great name, Running With Scissors.” Tom said enthusiastically. “Running With Scissors that’s it absolutely.”

After the men were sheared, we played the board game, Ticket to Ride, endlessly and about thirty-five rounds of Bingo.

 (endless hours of family fun)
 

 (Henry calls Bingo)
 

    “I hope you’ll all be here for Swingin’ Singles Night on Saturday – that’s B -4 as in before you get married,” Henry called in his velvety announcer voice.

    Tom won the lion’s share with his lucky card. Quinn was second then the Pheeb. Everyone played one card, but me. I had five. I figured I'd improve my odds.

 (Tom and his Bingo card)

 (Phoebe hates that Tom doesn't put a chip on the FREE section of the Bingo card)
 

    “Denise, you played a lot more than the rest of us. You must feel like five times the loser. Hey, great start to the New Year by the way,” Chris chortled snickering at his own joke in an asthmatic sort of way. "Hey you guys coming back tomorrow?

 (some of my cards -)
 

December 21st Three's A Crowd

 (Baby Huey?- chicken eggs and one - egg we found in the turkey pen - not sure if it's a turkey egg or a goose egg)

It was a mild mannered day at the Everybody’s store. Alexis and I were selling all sorts of exotic holiday cheeses like Wynsleydale, Nokkelost and Geitost until a striking woman came in and leaned over the counter looking me straight in the eye.

“I’m Bellingham P.D. and we have a situation.” I stood silently waiting for an explanation. “We’re going to need your parking lot as a staging area. There’s a problem up the road.”

“Thank you for telling me.” I said wondering what the situation could be.

“We didn’t want you to think it had anything to do with the store.” She said as she strode out of the door without any further information. I relayed what I knew to Alexis who was sweeping up something in the back.

“Crack house?” He suggested.

“Probably.” I agreed and we went back to selling cheese and last minute stocking stuffers like jaw breakers, ceramic kissing Santa Claus and Mrs. Santa Claus salt and pepper shakers, spices for mulled wine and magnetic bracelets for improving arthritis. We saw more than twenty police cars and an armored vehicle scream by. Some cars with just their lights on and others with sirens full blast.

 (some of our cheeses)

 (our 100-year-old cheese slicer we use for everything)

 (some more cheeses including the Huntsman far left - yum- double gloucester layered with stilton)

 (jawbreakers - we carry three sizes)

Not being able to take the suspense any longer and knowing Acme General Store has a police scanner I dialed their number. “Hey, this is Denise at Everybody’s, do you guys know what’s going on?”

“You guys must have a heck of a lot of police cars over there,” the voice said laughingly.

“We sure do. Why?”

“Well, a guy shot some kid in Bellingham earlier this morning and a police helicopter tracked his car to Wild Rose Lane. But he’s ditched it. They’re going house to house, but think maybe he’s trying to go over the dike to Mosquito Lake Road.”

“Really.” I said not too worried, after all Mosquito Lake Road is fourteen miles long. I relayed the information again to Alexis and we went back to counting cop cars and selling cheese.  As customers streamed in we got dribs and drabs about what was going on. Until Joyce, a fairly close neighbor of mine, only about three miles away said she’d heard there had been trouble on Mosquito Lake Road.

“You know you can see your house from the top of the Van Zandt Dike,” Alexis mentioned.

“You can?” I guess I didn’t realize we were so close as the crow flies. My phone vibrated. I had a message:

“Mama? The police just called and told me there is an armed gunman in the area of our house and to stay inside and lock the doors. I have to say this is making me a little bit nervous.”

“Alexis? I’ve got to go. Henry got a call from the police to stay inside. Nick went back to Mammoth for Christmas this morning so Henry'’s home by himself.”

“Go. Go. We’re fine here.” Grabbing my purse, out the door I fled. I saw a policeman sitting in his car in the parking lot, so I stopped to ask him how much validity there was and to find out how nervous I should be, but just as I was asking him another police car pulled up requesting back-up and they both went speeding off in the direction of my house.

I called Henry. “Just lock yourself in the house with the dogs, Honey.”

“I’m in your room with all the doors locked and I have all the dogs in here with me. Can you honk three times when you get home so I know it’s you and you’re ok.”

“Sure,” I told him as I drove closer. I called Tom and apprised him of the situation.

“Can you call Henry while I drive home. He’s nervous.”

As I drove I wondered what good I really was going to be to Henry other than sacrificing myself for him. I mean I don’t have a gun so what would I do? My friend, Franz, and just about everybody else has been after me to get something to protect myself and I really want to, but I’ve had so many nightmares where Henry gets killed with it that I have a hard time making that purchase. I passed the “situation”. I counted 30 police cars, a bunch of undercover vehicles; two helicopters a few armored vans, dogs and SWAT teams waiting. As I turned onto Mosquito Lake Road there was no doubt there was big trouble brewing. At every logging road was an armed policeman who looked intently at me holding an assault rifle. It was eerie. I kept driving.  Wondering what I’d do if I was this fugitive. He was from the area and fairly young so he probably knew the family with 15 kids that used to live in our house. Which meant he knew we had out buildings. If he was a farm boy he knew that a barn probably had water and heat lamps this time of year. A woman alone and a barn was a pretty good hideout if you asked me. I kept driving, when I got to the gate I honked three times and let myself in. As I parked the car I wondered how the gunman would get himself out of here. And it occurred to me that hiding in my van holding my son at gunpoint would work fairly well. He could hide in the back where I put the hay and have a tarp. I rang the doorbell and Henry opened the upstairs window.

“You didn’t honk three times.” He accused.

“I did too at the gate.”

“Oh. I didn’t hear you over the TV and the dogs.”

“Can you let me in?”

“Are you alone?” He said scanning the area.

“Yes! Now get down here and let me in.” He came to the door with a large LED Maglite, and an air horn strapped to him as well as a large kitchen knife.

“It’s a good thing you’re here mom. If he came in I was ready to go all Home Alone on him.” I laughed thinking the gunman would regret having to deal with Henry.

 (Henry ready for action)

 (flashlight)
 
 

I called Amy warning her to get her rear-end over here when she got home “and don’t pick-up any hitchhikers either. You got that?”

“Yeah, I know right. I’ll be over Mother Hen.” Amy laughed without the proper concern. The laugh of a twenty-year-old who doesn’t believe anything bad can really happen.

“You’d better. You don’t have a weapon, a phone or anything. You’re the perfect place to hideout.”

“I’ll be fine, but oh all right.”

Before she arrived, I wondered what I would do if our fugitive would show up. I decided I could stash Henry in the large pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room like they did in “Zorro”. This dragging my feet on the laundry thing was now working out for me. Mental note: Always keep a pile of laundry handy in case of an armed fugitive. I felt vindicated.

Since Irish had been useless against the cougar, Henry and I took Vivian, the ferocious, but snuggly Rottweiler, to the barn with us to feed the animals before dark. Henry was armed with his Maglite and I had the air horn. 

 (Vivian looking powerful)

 

When we walked outside we were shocked to find Poor Richard and Franklin surrounded by the other animals. When we got closer we found they were covered in blood. Fighting over Silence who was standing coyly nearby.

Franklin had blood spewing out of his mouth and Richard was bleeding all over his head. It was ugly.  Ferocious. We put Franklin in the turkey pen and Richard in the goose pen and ran back in the house to get some water to clean them up. When we got back with some rags we found Richard had flown the coop as it were and was fighting to the death with Franklin through the gate of the turkey pen. My two boys who’d been friends just that morning were about to kill themselves over a girl. Confirming my long held belief that testosterone is a mind-numbing drug.

 (Barnyard brawl -Franklin and Richard twisted together in the center)

 (Silence and the fighting intertwined Toms - Richard and Franklin)

 (Franklin covered in blood)

 (Henry ready to check the hay room for intruders)

“Don’t be a Dick.” Henry said as he pulled Richard unwrapping his neck from around Franklin putting him in the small refrigerator room. Sadly, we realized we were going to have to get rid of one of them.

When things calmed down, we listened but heard nothing unusual. It was a warm evening for a winter night and so a kid who knew these mountains could find shelter and drink out of a stream without much of a problem.

When Amy arrived I sat everyone down and decided to come up with a plan.

“He’s not going to come here,” Amy insisted.

“Well, if we have a plan he won’t but if we don’t have a plan he’ll be on our doorstep."

"Um why would he come here?" Amy questioned.

"Because we've got out buildings and he might be familiar with the property if he knew any of the kids who used to live here. I was a Girl Scout, I read 52 Nancy Drew books and I’m a victim of a violent crime - having been held at gunpoint for a few hours. I like to be prepared,” I said, ending that discussion.

 First we agreed that “Deli” was our red alert code. If anyone mentioned Deli or having anything to do with Deli, that meant there was trouble. Secondly, we decided if the guy showed up we’d offer him a bowl of Weight Watchers soy chili and act as though we had no idea he was wanted. Thirdly, I called Tom and my sister and told them the Deli code.

 (Luther shares Amy's relaxed attitude)
 

“But what if the kid doesn’t know he didn’t actually kill the other kid?” My sister asked rationally. “He might think he’s wanted for murder and has nothing to lose.”

“You have a point. I’ll have to see I guess. Hopefully, he’s been caught.” I said.

But he was not caught that night. I called the Everybody’s Store in the morning to see if they had any news. Jeff answered, “Oh yeah, that’s Dave Wilhelm’s boy. His mother’s a professor and his father’s an artist. He paints and makes things out of wood like kayaks. He makes beautiful things. You never know what your kids are going to do,” he said wistfully in his deep booming voice.

Later I ran into Fred, the high school senior who works at the Everybody’s store and who is helping me edit 13 hours of video. “Hey Denise. I know I should be home working on your project.”

 (Fred working)
 

“Yes, you should,” I laughed. “Have you heard anything about this fugitive, Noah?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with his brother. And I know the guy he shot.”

“Is he ok? What happened? Was it drugs? What?”

“Yeah he’s awake now. No, they’d been friends. It was over Noah’s ex-girlfriend.”

What a bunch of turkeys.

 

 

 

December 16th The Nose Goes

 (Deli's nose knows- everything)
 

Henry and I were sitting in my room snug as two bugs in a rug. He was reading Robin Hood and I was writing when the phone rang. It was Gretchen. Gretchen is good friends with my friend Jenny who lives in New York. Gretchen lives in Seattle and so Jenny thought it might be nice if we got to know each other.

 (Gretchen Bell)
 

            “Denise you absolutely won’t believe this, but I’ve found a home for Deli and they want her immediately. Tomorrow if you can handle it. “

            “Really?” I hadn’t even been actively looking for a home for Deli in quite some time so this call came as a complete surprise.

            “Yes!” Gretchen went on excitedly. “My friend was talking to friends of hers and happened to mention Deli and it seems this family had a coon hound and absolutely loves coon hounds. I gave them your number so they may be calling you tonight.”

            “Wow, well OK. I’ll be here. Thanks Gretchen it’s so sweet of you to keep looking. I feel so guilty though giving her away but Deli is cooped up in the house so much, she lives like a prisoner. I know it’s the best thing for her,” I confessed and we hung up.

            I explained the situation to Henry and tears filled his eyes, as he looked at her asleep in her dog bed next to us. “I know she needs another family. She’s so shy and doesn’t ask for attention like the other dogs. Irish hits you with his big shillelagh. Rat Bat just jumps on you and snuggles in. Luther lays on you and Vivian shoves her nose in and licks you until you pet her, but Deli stands off in the distance waiting for you to call her name and Mama, I forget to call her name.”

            “Well, the others demand so much attention, even Emmett worms his way in and Deli stands to the side like a wallflower. She needs to be an only dog or one of just a couple. Maybe a cat?”

            “She loves kitties.” Henry said cheerfully.

Later that evening we got a call from the potential new family. We talked about schedules, fences, killing poultry, vaccines, microchips, electric fences and the essence of Deli. They were sold.

            “We have a unique living situation. You see, I work during the day; I’m a pre-school teacher. I live in an apartment.  My husband works nights and has a house. We raise our son together and Delta will go back and forth between us so she’ll really never be alone. Can we come get her tomorrow?” She asked.

            “Tomorrow? Um, well…” I stammered looking over at Henry who was shaking his head and waving his arms.

            “Absolutely not!” He whispered loudly. “She is not going with them until I get a good look at them and I have gymnastics.”

            “You know, tomorrow my son, Henry, has gymnastics and he really wants to be there. Can you wait until Saturday and I can meet you in Everett?” I suggested.

            “Well, OK, Saturday it is. We’re just so anxious.” She explained. “Can you hold on? Without waiting for my answer she handed the phone to her husband.

            “Denise? Just wanted to assure you we’ll give her a good home. You know we had a hound, a black and tan named Henry. We saw the pictures of Delta Blue and I think she’s beautiful.”

            “I’m so happy. This is really hard for me, she was my father’s dog and he moved to Paris. He’s been gone a year and half now and she’s just not done well on the farm. She killed a turkey and a couple of rabbits and had a duck in her mouth. Life on the farm just doesn’t make sense she’s a runner. In the house though, she’s a real couch potato and very loving. She has the softest ears, like velvet drapes.” I explained emotionally.

            “Well, we’re really ready for another dog and we can’t wait to meet her,“ he assured me before hanging up.

            I looked over at Deli, Delta Blue, and felt misty. I knew this was the best thing, but I was tortured. I knew my father would be broken-hearted and I felt as though I was betraying him somehow.  Henry and I pet her on the bed and the three of us fell asleep.

            The next morning, getting ready for school we talked about the idea of her getting plenty of attention, of being an only or almost only dog. A boy after all was going to have a new dog he could love and they were bananas to get her. We felt better and I wrote my father to tell him what was going on. I prepared myself for his emotional response.

            True to form, I could feel the tears running down my father’s face as I read his reaction to Deli’s potential new home. Of course, he was understanding and supported me. He knew I’d tried. He then wrote me a few suggestions.

Dearest Denise-a-la:

 

I think you've done and thought of everything.  Make certain they have a collar and ID badge for her the day she arrives with "Deli", phone number, etc.  Make sure they use a nice medium-weight choke collar.  Remember, she can pull out of a regular collar on a leash and be--gone! Once the nose starts to go her hearing absolutely turns off and that’s it she’s gone. Gone!

 

They have really got to stay on top of her for a month or two until she gets to know the residences and neighborhoods... and can't let her alone on a long rope without have a choke collar on her.

 

Does the guy's house have a yard?

 

As for me, there is no way I am going to visit her.  I'll love her for what we had and from the pictures you get from friends.  Deli might be able to handle it after a while but not your father.

 

Hugs & Love,

Me

 

         We were all making peace with the decision. I did as instructed getting Deli a new collar, a rawhide Christmas present and a bag of food to take with her. While I was running errands the phone rang.

 (Deli in PetCo)

 (Deli and her treats)

 (Delta BLUE's new tag being engraved)

 (Deli - messing around in PetCo)

            “Hey Denise, I’m sorry to push this, but could we possibly get her sooner than Saturday. I have to very disappointed guys here,” Chryssa said.

            “Well, you see my son has gymnastics in Burlington in the evenings and he really wants to be there to say good-bye to Deli.” I explained slowly. After all we were making a life change here.

“We’d be happy to drive to Burlington,” she chirped without missing a beat.

“Do you know how much farther Burlington is than Everett. I can still meet you in Everett on Saturday,” I reassured her.

“No, no, no, the distance is fine. We don’t mind at all. We’ll just all pile in the car after I get off work at 4:00PM. Delta Blue is absolutely worth it and we’re so anxious. We’ll see you tomorrow then in Burlington at Henry’s gymnastics after about 6:00PM OK? I’m sorry am I pushing too much.”

“No, no I think it’s good. I’m glad you’re so excited,” I replied. “See you tomorrow then.”

“They’re getting her tomorrow?” Henry asked sullenly. “I want to meet them. I told you that.”

“No. They’re coming to gymnastics so you can be there.”

“They must really want her,” Henry said thoughtfully. “We better call the girls and let them know. They might want to see her before she goes.”

There was a flurry of preparations. A new collar, dog tag, dog food and super-duper gargantuan bone. We gathered her dog, bed and coat so she would have her things that smelled familiar smells.

After work I couldn’t face going to get her so I called Amy and she met me at the corner of Mosquito Lake Road and the 9.

“She knows something’s up,” Amy said as walked over to my van. “She’s acting very perky.”

 (Amy - her truck "Gunner" and Delta Blue - aka Deli aka Wacktilda)
 

            I hoped she would be happy and smothered with love. I hoped she would get the love and attention she used to get from my dad before he left. I hoped she wouldn’t be scared. I hoped she wouldn’t feel abandoned as I pet her soft ears. I loved her ears in between my fingers. They were soft and tickly.

            I picked Henry up from school and we stopped at Wendy’s for a snack. Naturally, Deli needed a good-bye treat. Or two.

 (Good-byes are always hard - Deli & Henry)

 (Deli enjoys the ride)

 (a little treat is in order)

 (Deli taking her burger)
 

            It seemed like an eternity until “they” arrived, but when they did it seemed too soon. Henry spotted them from across the gym and called me over. “Uhhh, Mom? It’s time.”

            I think I spoke a mile a minute explaining every last nuance about her. “She can dig and climb so I wouldn’t leave her alone in a yard unless you’re absolutely sure she can’t escape.”

            “We’ll be leash walking her anyway.” Jim said. “You see, I have to take a thirty-minute walk everyday. She’ll be a good companion.”

“What do you do that you’re out at night?” I pried. I felt a little nosey, but after all this was Deli and I knew my dad was going to want to know too.

 (Jim, Canon, Deli and Henry)

 (Henry, deli and Chryssa)

  (Deli and her new boy, Canon)

“I’m a classical guitarist.” Another musician! “And I’m currently not working. In fact, I don’t have any real plans to work for about six months.” Ahh, the son’s name was Canon not Cannon, my light bulb was turning on.

            I sat back and watched them with her. They were cuddly and Deli was wagging her tail. They thought she was spectacular and snuggled her and pet her as they cooed her name. “Ahhh, Delta Blue” Chryssa said.

            “Call her Deli mom, she likes it better. Don’tcha Deli-girl?” Canon insisted taking the leash from his mother.

 (Henry interviewing the family as he explains all of Deli's quirks)
 

            Henry came over to me. We stood there observing them for a few moments when he whispered. “They seem to really love Wacktilda don’t you think?” I nodded in agreement. “And she seems to really like them,” he added. I put my arm around him and squeezed.

            I’m doing the right thing. I’m doing the right thing. I’m doing the right thing I chanted in my head. Keeping her would be selfish and silly. “You know if there are any problems at all. We’ll take her back. Just give me a call.” I said breezily. Chryssa came over and hugged me.

            “We’re sorry, to do this to you,” she said empathetically.

            “No. Thank you. This is a good thing. Really. I think Deli is going to be very happy.” I said as Jim closed the hatch of their car and climbed in. The entire back was cushioned into a bed for Deli and Canon. As they  drove off I didn’t see Deli looking at me longingly through the back window, as I would have imagined. Instead, she was facing forward  -  tail wagging.

            

 

December 7th Tree Topper

 (Edward and Alexander nuzzle)

Like some sort of crazed elf I got my not-so-perfect icicle lights up the day after Thanksgiving. In turn I like to put up the Christmas tree on December 1^st to coincide with the commencement of the advent calendar. This way I can eek out every single moment of the Christmas season, but after last year’s Yuletide adventure, and our recent below freezing temperatures, I didn’t want to go out into the forest if there was even the slightest chance of it getting dark.

Luckily, the boys had early release from school today, which meant we could finally go out and get some Holiday cheer. I informed both of them to be ready to jet home after school so we could have a snack and get out there.

“After some Mac & cheese then can we go?” Nick pleaded.

“We’re starving,” Henry added. Awesomez (pronounced Awesome – EZ) and I agreed since I had a bunch of winter chores like putting a de-icer in the cow trough and moving the goat and sheep water trough to the Kubota barn where I could plug in a de-icer for them while they’re out during the day.

 (Denise, Silence my faithful companion - and a lot of ice)

 (now there's water under the Kubota barn)
  

 (cow trough)
 

 (Bruno proves one man's trash...) 

 (Nick- napping again- taking lessons from a professional- Luther- Bruno also pictured)
 

 (Henry is ready to go get a tree)
 

By the time we got back, Henry was ready to go, but Nick had slipped into a deep, deep sleep on the sofa in the family room.  And as hard as we prodded there was no budging Nick.

We couldn't wait for Nick to get up we'd lose our daylight. Henry fired up the tractor, Awesomez had Irish and I had my limb saw in hand. iWe set out with all the dogs. First we went to the pond to assess the ice. When we arrived we found the geese frolicking in the bit of water that was still liquid. Stopping to watch them for a while, Henry threw rocks out to see how thick the ice was. Surprisingly it was able to withstand some hard throws and some big rocks.

     (an Awesome-ez popsicle)
 

     (Henry lets one fly)
  (getting thick)

 (Possible tree)

 (Irish tied up in his own lead)
 

Worrying about the time, we pushed on going slowly so we could look discriminatingly at different types of conifers We checked out firs, pines, hemlocks and cedars. Rejecting many we finally settled on a possibility. A very tall tree so tall Awesomez was shocked.

“Really? That one? It won’t even fit in your house,” she implored.

“Well, you see if you look at it, you have to cut it. Right there. Otherwise it isn’t very full,” I explained pointing at the tree.

“Where did all the dogs go?” Henry worried. “You never know where Karen is, I’m going to go look for them,” he told us as he hopped off the tractor. We followed reflexively. I didn’t like him alone in the forest. It’s that one time you don’t worry that you should have. So I worry all the time.

“Karen’s the cougar,” I explained and she nodded.

“I remember.”

Henry had run a head and was returning with Vivian, Luther and Bruno by the time we got to the top of the hill.

“What about this one?” Awesome-ez wondered pointing to a really great tree.

“Awwwwe that’s perfect!” Henry exclaimed. “Let’s get this one!”

 (Henry with Luther and Vivian)

 (Henry to the left of the proposed tree)

“Sounds good to me,” I agreed, “It’s close to the path and it should fit pretty well in the bucket. You know, it’s about the right size for the game room as is.” I marveled. “Good eye! Lis Let’s get it down.” I said walking up and putting my saw into action. In just a moment it was down. In another it was in the bucket and we were in theory on our way.

 (taking it down)

 (Almost done)

 (the tree it's mine!)

 (Me - loading the tree while Henry drives)

“I can’t see over the tree.” Henry lamented.

“We can hold a stick up in front of you and you can just guide the tractor toward the stick.” Awesome-ez suggested.

“OK. Let’s do it.” Henry agreed readily. Although in short order it became clear that wasn’t going to work. He just couldn’t maneuver the tractor and see the stick and keep the tree balanced on the bucket. Awesom-ez offered to take over and Henry agreed giving Awesom-ez a quick refresher course about the controls and we were off once again.

 (Awesom-ez and the direction stick)

 (Lisa's got her stick)

 (ready to go now)

 (Henry's got the stick and Irish as Awesom-ez follows with the tree)

Our parade moved slowly down the steep hill and past the spot that spelled disaster for us last year. Thinking back I realized I’d meant to price winches this year. I really had to get on that. It ‘s something you don’t’ think about until you need it like a flashlight, Earthquake water or insurance. The other day my dad’s friend, Chad told me just to get a hand-cranked one, but Tom informed me that despite the increased price he was a staunch supporter of the motorized version. Easy for him to say, I still didn’t have one did I?

 (It's hard to see but the rocks are where the tractor went off the path last year and into the creek which runs under that mossy log)
 

Anyway this year’s tree was going so well it really was too good to be true. Oh I mean I wish there’d been snow for added charm, but the brisk air was plenty of ambiance and now that we’d passed the danger zone it was smooth sailing.

Henry ran ahead with Irish. He didn’t have gloves on and his hands were frozen flesh.

 (Henry runs home with Irish)
 

I hopped on the back of the tractor while Awesome-ez navigated us home. She adeptly got both ends of the tree through the narrow gate without incident. And just when I thought the adventure was over, it began.

“Mil?  Didn’t you say the goats thought the pine branches that blew down during the windstorm were a delicacy?”

“Yeah,” I said casually.

“What if they go after the tree?” She said cautiously.

“Oh, I can’t imagine that,” I said with confidence

“Oh no? Then why are they running over here?” She wasn’t just whistling Dixie. They’d spied the tree and were after us like a band of highway robbers.

 (They can't help themselves the goats begin to ravage the tree)
 

“Quick grab the tree!” She said grabbing one end.

“I’m trying! They’re eating it. I can’t lift it out of the bucket without breaking it.”

“Just grab it!”

“Got it!”

“OK now run like you’ve got the football Mil. Now!” And run we did. She had the front half of the tree and I had the back with four goats running after us trying to eat the top of our new Christmas tree.

“They’re nibbling the top!” I yelled.

“Keep moving!” She yelled back without turning around. “I’ve got to get the gate in a second.”

“Hurry, they’re eating the tree, tearing off branches!” I screamed willing her cold fingers to get the latch.

“Got it! C’mon!” She instructed and I obeyed slamming the gate behind me.

I looked over at her and she was half laughing half panting. “They’re like piranha.” She wheezed.

“I can’t believe they did that. It never occurred to me we were in peril.” I said watching Christina lean over to try and munch on the tip of the tree.

 (Christina is shut down)

 (Awesom-ez securing the tree)
 

 (never give up?)

 (inside at last)

 (Up!)
 
 
 
 
 

December 4th Take A Bite Out Of

 (Phoebe at the ferry terminal - third from right in the back)
 
     Awesomez and I were trying to be on time for Phoebe’s choral performance. However, we’d somehow gotten behind every new driver in Whatcom County. One car didn’t turn left on two green lights, so we gnashed our teeth hoping we weren’t going to miss it. Phoebe was singing in her annual Christmas program at the Alaskan Ferry Terminal. We got there but only because we ran through the parking lot. After it was over we were able to walk through and see the Gingerbread house competition. The one we’d planned to enter all year, but as time grew close I was simply overwhelmed with winter preparations, Kim’s passing and things for the kids. I just didn’t have it in me to do a gingerbread house without Tom or someone to help.

 (a young ginger bread artists creates an Ark)

 (part of a larger display - a ginger kayak)
 
 

 (ginger pirate ship)

 (Matzah sail)
 

 (Ginger castle)

 
 

 (Ginger taxi cab)
 

 (ginger tree house)
 

 (a family entry- a ginger boat)
 

 (ginger cottage - with lights)
 

 (ginger yellow submarine)
 

 (ginger museum)
 

 (computer)
 

 (Whatcom Middle School on fire)
 

 (gingerbread "Up")

 ("UP" detail)

 (Up - footprints in the snow )

 (ginger shopping bag)

 

 

 

 (Henry and Phoebe dance to Christmas music)
 

 (Henry discusses service dogs)
 
 
  (Quinn and Awesomez deep in discussion as usual)
 

“Next year it’s our Thanksgiving weekend plan,” I said to Chris poking him hard after finding out he was going around changing Henry’s 10.00 bids to 100.00 bids.

“You got it. We can make tandem gingerbread houses.” Chris confirmed as he and Lisa went off to bid on another six entries.

            "I'm starving and about ready to eat my arm. Can we get something to eat?" Henry requested. It was a little early for dinner, but we all agreed we could eat. Henry, Awesomez and I drove around trying to decide where to go to dinner. After going up and down Lakeway, Chestnut, Holly, State and Harris we finally decided on The Pepper Sisters.

            It was an unlikely choice I’ll grant you. Southwestern and spicy it wasn’t likely Henry was going to love it. Unfortunately, none of us loved it. Although, Henry had no problem asking for what he wanted. He ordered a Roy Rogers extra syrup. And was about to add chicken to his burrito which I felt was already pricey enough. I thought he's going to be one of these people who's coffee drink takes ten minutes to order.

I’d been there once before with Tom and we’d had a great meal, but this time around everything was pretty bland. Henry and Awesomez picked at their entrees while I stuffed it in knowing the food was going to go to waste if I didn’t.

After dinner, we went to see “The Blind Side”. The perfect movie for Awesomez and I. She loves football and I love Sandra Bullock.  It’s a true story of hardship and hard work. Kindness and love. On our way, I realized I needed to stop and drop off Henry’s prescription to be filled. So while they went and got tickets and popcorn I ran to Rite Aid. The very accommodating pharmacist said he’ have the medication ready when my movie was over. “Have a good time and let me know if you like it,” he said as I nodded and raced to the theatre.

We laughed, we cried, we ate a tub of popcorn and loved it. “Mom didn’t you like it when….”

“Henry can it wait? I have to run back and get your meds.”

“Can I get a snack?”

“Seriously? You’re hungry? We had dinner and popcorn.”

“I’m still hungry. I didn’t like my burrito and I really didn’t get much popcorn because I didn’t want to be rude and take it all.”

“Ok.” I said over my shoulder as I went racing down the sidewalk.

All was fine, I had fifteen minutes to spare. “Did you like the movie?” The smiling pharmacist asked.

“I did. I really haven’t liked a movie this much in a long time.” I said recommending it.

When I walked back to the checkout stands, Awesomez was busy calling the restaurant because she couldn’t find her inhaler. She doesn’t go anywhere without it and so she was patiently explaining to the person on the phone where we sat incase she’d left it behind. “The last booth on the right…” was the last thing I heard before; I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning I saw a very serious man in his early thirties plainly dressed looking me intently in the eye.

“Excuse me Maam, I’m store security.” Store security? Store security? I was confused. “I caught your son stealing from the store.” He said holding a Three Musketeers™ bar. There must be some mistake I thought this cannot be happening. My son knows right from wrong. It must have been a mistake I thought until I saw Henry’s face and knew it was true. “I would ordinarily call the police and file a report.” A report! Oh my God, I thought I was going to be sick. “But your son was completely honest and admitted what he’d done. Boys his age usually lie, he didn’t. So I’m just going to give him a warning.”

I knew it was my turn to speak, but I was weak in the knees and all I could think to say was “Henry why? What? I told you I’d buy you a snack.”

“You did?” He pitifully replied with tears in his eyes pulling his brown sweatshirt in front of his face.

“He took the wrapper off and hid it then put the candy in his sweatshirt.” The man continued to report the events of the crime.

“Henry I’m just stunned. Of course, I’ll pay for it. Is there something I should do? I just don’t know what to do?”

“No you don’t need to pay for it. I’ll report it as destroyed.”

 “Henry why?”

“Because I was hungry. I saw all the candy bars and I wanted one. I thought you said no” Henry said almost emotionless.

“Well, first of all I said yes, but even if I’d said no, you don’t take one. Are you kidding me? That’s ridiculous. I told you I’d buy you a snack why wouldn’t you just wait?” I demanded.

“I didn’t hear you.” Henry said sadly. "I thought you wouldn't want to spend the money."

Awesomez walked up and was quickly brought up to speed. “Even if your mother had said ‘no’ you couldn’t be that hungry. We went out to dinner and I offered you popcorn and something at the movie.” Awesomez said. “You’re being unfair to your mother making her feel you’re hungry.”

"I was." Henry repeated.

I felt as though my world had collapsed. On the way to pick-up Nick and his new girlfriend, Megan, Awesomez said, “It’s too bad there isn’t a class in right and wrong.”

“But that's the thing. I thought I'd been teaching that class for 12 years now. This is a parenting nightmare. I feel like I’ve failed. Like I don't know who he is. Lis, Maybe he did feel hungry. You know with not having a lot of money lately. I’ve made him wait. I've made him wait when he really was hungry. After work out. I don't stop a lot for food on the way home. I don’t buy snacks. Maybe he thought he was trying to help because we couldn’t pay for it.”

“Stop! Just stop. You are not to blame for this. He is and he has to take responsibility. NOT YOU. Shhh.” She said emphatically.

Henry do you realize how lucky you are?” I asked. “ You know how you got that scholarship to Woodward this summer? Well, they don’t give scholarships and things like that to kids with criminal records.”

“You could have had a report filed. You could end up in juvenile hall, you could end up having your driver’s license delayed.” Awesomez explained. “You know I used to work at a home for troubled boys; they were sent there by the court and I had one boy, Mark, who was there for a year. A YEAR. Just because he stole a greeting card. A greeting card he was obviously was getting for someone else. He was a good kid and he did his time.The court felt he wasn’t supervised properly and suspended his mother’s parental rights for one whole year.

“ A year? I thought the only thing that would happen is they’d make me pay for the candy bar.” Henry said lamely.

The story terrified me as I listened. No father figure in the home. He was away working. Tenants,a rottweiler, mother working at a store part time. I didn't look good on paper at all.

“It’s a true story Henry. I loved that kid. He came to our facility for a year.” Awesomez repeated. Once the court system gets involved in your life. You lose control of your choices. Imagine how your mother would feel if you were sent away at all.”

“You’re not seven.” I said sternly. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you. You’re a thief.”

“Mom.”

“You are, you’re a thief.”

“It’s the first thing I’ve ever taken.”

“How do I know you’re not a liar too?”

“Henry it’s awfully unlikely you got caught on your first time. I think you need to tell your mother the truth.” Awesomez insisted.

“Really. It’s the first thing.” Henry whispered.

“I don’t believe that Henry.” Awesomez stated flatly.

The drive home was solemn. The evening ruined. When I got home I called Tom. Naturally he felt it was his fault for not being here. We talked talked and talked and then we talked to Henry then Tom talked to Henry then I called my sister. "Chris says he'll drive out there right now if you need him to talk to Henry too. And he says remember 'hard labor' make him work."

"Tell him I will. I'm gong to need the Uncle Chris card, but I think I can handle it tonight, but he is going to have to face Chris too." I said exhausted from the events.

As I put Henry to bed I said. “Well, I’m not sure quite yet how your father and I are going to deal with this, but we do know one thing it's not going away. You’ve lost all privileges. You will not be going into Fairhaven with your friends - you obviously can’t be trusted.

“Mom it was only a candy bar I’m so sorry.”

“So what? Next, is it going to be a TV? DVD player?”

“NO!”

“Do you think if I took a TV they’d just make me pay for it?” I asked.

"I made a mistake."

"Doing drugs is a mistake, drinking and driving is a mistake, picking up a gun and showing it to a friend is a mistake. Mistakes or not they can end up costing someone their life.I lost many friends to someone who made a mistake. Some mistakes are huge but you have to live with the consequences. That's what happens when you start to grow-up."

“Awesomez was really hard on me. She thinks I’m lying.”

“Are you? Have you stolen before? She doesn’t think this is your first time. She cares about you and doesn't want you to continue down this path. If you lie to me now it’ll be a lot worse for you later.”

“She thinks I took candy, because I was kidding around and said that to Nick, but I didn't. Some people in town paid me a dollar to do a back flip, but I did take something about a year ago. I told myself I would never do it again.”

“But you did.”

“Yes.”

“Honey, doing wrong things breaks a barrier. And the more you do things that are wrong the easier it gets. Your father and I are not going to let this be easy. You will have to do hard labor tomorrow. You will bring in firewood and pick up trash. You will be working somewhere and donating your time to charity. Hopefully, I can find someplace where you can see what real hunger looks like. This isn’t over. I suggest you pray for forgiveness and realize that God knows what’s in your heart and what you’ve done. Even if I don’t. I’m just so sad, but you know I love you. I will always love, but I hate what you’ve done. I’m so, so sad and I feel so betrayed.”

Tears welled up in Henry’s eyes as he listened to me but he did not cry.  I found this curious as he cries at the drop of a hat. If the coach yells at him, if I tell him to put a shirt on, or if he feels wronged he cries. This time, he did not. I went to bed broken-hearted. As I lay there I thought about Henry graduating from college, working in the Peace Corps, having his own children and I thought this is a moment I want him to look back on and be able to say. “I could have gone the wrong direction, but my parents made this such a lesson I never stole anything ever again.” The Catholic in me will be sending him to reconciliation before Christmas.

 Luther woke me in the middle of the night because he needed to go outside. On my way I passed Henry’s room and found a note addressed to me.

It said:

Dear Mom,

I know what I did was wrong and I’m not saying that that makes it any better I just want you to know that I will never again take something that does not belong to me. I with only the want for one measly little candy bar changed the way you look at me to your eyes I am a thief… because of ONE little candy bar. I would have made big blotch on my future I know because of one candy bar. I could have been taken away from you, gone to juvenile hall, not gotten a scholarship, postponed my driver’s license, but I know that the worst possible thing did happen to me. I made my own mom have to have a stranger walk up to her and tell her that her son who was brought up to know right from wrong was caught stealing a candy bar. I made you lose your trust and respect for me. I also have lost something my own respect and my honour. I did something on impulse that one impulse was the want for a candy bar. We all want things we can’t have before all I wanted was a candy bar now all I want is my own mom’s trust. I will NEVER steal again. It’s pointless and bittersweet I lose more than gain. I don’t understand how one can make an entire living off stealing without feeling stupid because that’s what I felt. I don’t expect this to make everything better but I hope it will help.

Regretfully yours,

Henry Miller

(click to view full size)

As I read the heartfelt note, I was touched by his remorse and once again had hope that my boy would soon be back on track. However, I was also struck by his terrible language conventions.

Mental note: needs confession and grammar lesson.  And what’s with honor  “h-o-n-o-u-r”? That’s the Canadian spelling. What the heck? Are you kidding me? I really have failed.

 

November 29th Forever In Our Hearts

 (Richard and Franklin - real Poofftas)
 

Thanksgiving took on a myriad of permutations this year. At first, Awesomez thought she might come up to join Nick, and Mike and Donna had considered joining us. Of course we expected Mike and then there was rumor The Gibb’s – Diane, John, Lauren and Jordan might attend in addition to all of us – Chris, Lisa, Quinn, Annie, Henry and me. We’d also invited Kim and Vivian to join us, but Kim wasn’t feeling particularly well so they planned to stay home. Nevertheless we were going to need additional tables and a couple of turkeys. Franklin and Richard seemed unaware of the potential hazards in front of them.

 (Silence wisely tucked in the back of the boys)

The best laid plans and all of that. Grandpa Awesomez wanted all the Gomez clan with him at his house in Palm Springs so that took out Nick and Lisa. Mike and Donna suddenly were hosting Mike’s daughter and their three grandchildren. Just days before Thanksgiving, we tragically lost dear quirky “Kim” aka Quentin  – Chris’ uncle, Annie’s brother to an aggressive form of Prostate Cancer.He had been valiantly been battling it for more than a year. His loss left us all grieving and a bit quieter in spirit. Annie went to be with Kim’s wife, Vivian for Thanksgiving in Stanwood. The gregarious Gibb clan did drive up to Lisa's from Eugene for the weekend and Mike drove up from Tacoma with his faithful feline, Monica.

 (Chris & Mike enjoy a glass)

 (Henry and Lauren play a game)

(Quinn quietly on the left with Henry and Lauren)

 (Henry and Lauren goof)
 

 (Diane thickens the gravy)

 (Lisa looking ready for the holiday in her chic scarf - I gave her)

 

 (best friends Jordan and Phoebe tilt a glass)

(Quinn not at all thrilled with my camera)

Brutally aware most Americans consume over 5000 calories in this one meal, I tried to be restrained after all I have to weigh-in eventually. I happily chose the two point glasses of wine over the nine point pumpkin pie. We laughed and chatted about how the Gibb’s were adjusting to Eugene, soccer, schools and Mike ranted about how to revamp the entire educational system, as we know it.

 (yummy food cooking in the oven)
 

 (Mike rants)

 (John and Chris listen to Mike rant educational policies and condemn social promotion)
 

 (and don't use Montessori in the same sentence as Mike's ideas - them's fightin' words_
 

 (Diane's pies and Lisa's tarts)

(Diane prefers Cool Whip™ but she's from the South) 
 

While the pies were being prepped with whipped cream, Diane told of her idyllic new neighborhood and how a group of families share dinner twice a week. Which means Diane eats Tuesdays and Wednesdays at one of her neighbors and cooks for twenty once every two weeks. In fact, their new neighborhood is so neighborly that their neighbors hung their Christmas lights while they were gone.

“I felt terrible, they sent their teenage son over and he was going to do it for free, but it’s not like John is an invalid,” Diane said.

“Oh my gosh! Your neighbors put up your lights? I could see if you were a woman alone,” Lisa was impressed.

As I listened, I turned and whispered to Phoebe who was sitting next to me. “It’s funny, they both assume a man is going to do it. No one but me has ever put up my Christmas lights. Or taken them down. It’s not that hard, I guess it’s tradition.”

            Phoebe smiled wide and nodded to me. She and I had a do-it-yourself kinship. This was the 3-year-old who poured cement with me. The eight-year-old who planted the corn field, the nine-year-old who screwed the fence together. One day, we’d put up her Christmas lights together.

            “Are you sure this place isn’t the next Stepford?” Chris cajoled.

            “It’s OK if it is,” John laughed.

The next day brought winter preparations. Mike and I tried again to get the generator going. I called a repairman who explained my financial options. “If you can get it to me, it would save you a lot of money.”

“I can’t. I just can’t lift it into a truck bed, even with a ramp. I’m simply not strong enough and I just don’t have enough help.” I explained a bit downtrodden.

Mike and I moved on to other matters like insulating the pump house.

“I’d like to say I’m surprised at what a poor job they did on this, but honestly everything they did is just like this.” Mike thundered. We used an entire roll of insulation, changed the light bulb, turned up the heat and screwed the door shut hopping for the best.

Next we began the traditional hanging of the Christmas lights. I wanted to get them up before Awesomez brought Nick back on Monday. So Mike unraveled and held the ladder, I strung and Silence, my faithful turk-a-lurk, supervised us closely. The work I’d put into screwing in hooks along the eaves last year paid off and the lights went up lickety-split. The ones that completely lit anyway. It seems there is some insidious plot devised by the Christmas light industry. They have perfected a solution to the revolutionary parallel circuit. Somehow they have managed to get a foot or two span of lights in the middle of a string to simply go out making it mandatory to purchase another set of lights to replace it. This sent Mike and me to Lowes for more lights. Twice. Thankfully they were on sale.

 (Mike works diligently)

 (Christina actually turned into a storybook goat and started chomping lights)

 (Mike and Christina)
   

 

 (Max returns to the farm)

 (Yours truly- getting the lights up)

 (Silence working hard)

 (Seriously, does anyone think they're going to have a pet turkey? Silence is so curious and interested in everything - a lot like Lloyd)

 (Silence lets me know who's boss)

 (Silence is one big ass bird)

 (Henry and I keep working)

 

 (Luther and Bruno assist)
 

(Emmett escapes)
 

All and all we did pretty well, but more afraid of heights then ever I had a hard time with the upper peaks. At one point Amy tied an extension cord around my waist and anchored me from the attic window while I dangled over the edge. My heart beating so hard I could feel it all over my body. Henry couldn’t watch so he went downstairs and turned on mindless TV. Some help he was.

That night, Mike and I sat up drinking tea and making lists of things we could accomplish in the morning. Mike had an appointment to take Monica to the cat clinic to see Lisa. She’d been acting a little funny lately and he’d been concerned. Lisa told him she could squeeze him around nine, so that was the first thing on the agenda. When he got back we’d continue with our chores, as I was eager to get as much done with my faithful assistant as possible. The adult company was invigorating.

 At about midnight we head upstairs. Mike went to Nick’s room – the room formerly known as “Maryruth’s room” and I went in my bathroom and flipped on the portable heater before changing into my flannels. I thought I heard knocking at my door, but wasn’t sure over the hum of the heater.

“I think she’s dying!” I heard Mike frantically yelling in the hall.

“What?” I screamed as I ran toward the door. When I opened it I could see Mike in his boxers and undershirt hurrying toward his room and Henry almost flying up the stairs. By the time I joined them I saw Henry had had the presence of mind to rush to the kitchen and grab a turkey baster from the kitchen drawer and shoved it down Monica’s throat and was now pumping air into her body. She responded, convulsing with each breath. I ran to my room got my makeup mirror and dialed my sister. Accustomed to emergencies she woke up quickly and started advising us. We held the mirror in front of Monica to see if she had any breath on her own. She did not. Henry heroically resumed emergency ventilation, but sadly to no avail. Monica passed away.

“Henry, I can’t believe how amazing you were. You were calm and really performed in a crisis.” I said completely impressed.

“Really. Henry, I can’t thank you enough for what you did. If anything was going to help that was. Lisa said it was probably a blood clot.” Mike relayed.

“But it didn’t save her.” Henry said quietly.

“But it made me feel as though we did everything we could.” Mike said putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder. Tearfully, Mike picked up his corpulent companion he tenderly called “Monica Morning Cat” and gently placed her in her blue cat carrier.

The next day, Henry dug a grave for Monica while Mike and I worked on the lights. Amy came home from Texas with Max and Andrew to find one of her glidies (sugar gliders) had died. One of the twins. Henry and I hadn’t known because they’d still been in their pouch when we fed them.  They don’t get up until about 9:00 PM. So we said goodbye to two friends and had two burials in our growing pet cemetery. Amy came by afterward explaining the horror of the death. It seems gliders can become cannibalistic and had skinned the poor thing. Amy was heavy-hearted having lost her third pet since living here.

 (Henry doesn't want Mike to have to dig Monica's grave)

 

 (Monica the cat was buried with her favorite towel - Mike got Monica about 8 years ago through my sister - her owner had died and she needed a home)

 

Hard work being the best medicine we all cleaned the barn thankful to sweep our troubles away laughing about the good times and funny stories.

 

November 12th With A Huff And A Puff

 (Dashingly handsome Cluck-Cluck and not so demure Silence Dogood snuggle up on a cold wet night - on top of the rabbit hutch- can we expect turkens?)
     

    It rained and rained and rained torrential frightening flood kind of rain and the wind howled and blew with more ferocity than the big bad wolf. Branches littered my lawn like pickup sticks. A tree went down by Amy’s place; two were down by the pond. I spoke to my neighbor, Dave, he told me the guy next to him lost seven trees. And more wind was predicted. We decided to wait on the cows until things settled down.

    Only they didn’t settle down. In a day fall had disappeared replaced by winter. Every leaf was blown from every tree revealing a stark beauty. Jeff canceled me for work because of the storm. We lost power for 14 hours and I still couldn’t get the blasted generator to work. Tom and I had changed the spark plugs, checked the fuse, jumped the battery, made sure there was gas and oil, but still nothing. Not knowing what to do I called an old friend. After all when you need help with a motor, call a German or if you can’t find one, an Austrian will do. Franz explained the ins and outs of the carburetor. Where to locate it, how to get to it  and what to spray in it. Then he described in great detail how the spray functioned in the thing.

 (Franz Neuwirth)

 (the mighty Centurion 15000- a  powerful beast - if it worked)
 

 (the air filter - with the carburetor to the right)

 (the top of the geni - Franz)
 
 

    “So you mean it’s like a can of hairspray? If you don’t use it all the time it gets clogged in the nozzle and you have to unplug the goop?”

    “Uh yeah, Neezer, something like that,” Franz replied indulging me.

    "Franz, what you fail to understand is I don't want to know anything about generators, carburetors or air filters."

    "Neezer, you just don't have that luxury. You live in the land of Hansel and Gretel."

    I acquiesced and did as he instructed, or so I thought. After my first attempt didn’t work, he went over the basics again.

    “So you spray the stuff and you don’t put the air filter back on until you’ve jumped the battery?”

    “Right, the evaporation rate of the starter fluid is too great. Just give it a good ‘psssst’ down the throat of the carb and it should fire.”

    “Should.” I had my doubts, but I was determined. When I tried, I had to get the tractor right up to the house lifting the bucket high in the air. This made me nervous, because if the hydraulics gave out and the bucket fell on top of me there was no one to take me to the hospital. Then again like almost everyone I know, I currently don’t have any health insurance so I’m not up to taking any chances. If I got hurt who’d make dinner or feed the animals? I put my fear aside and set to work when I heard a creak. The wheels of the tractor had started to slip slightly on the soaked ground and I panicked. The tractor was uphill from the propane tank. My mind raced at the catastrophe that was possible. I jumped on the tractor pulled it down the hill and turned it off.  Scared. I decided it was time to stop. I had to go pick up the boys from school anyway.

 (This summer I really meant to paint that generator shed to the left of the tractor
 

    “Franz, I couldn’t do it. I got scared.”

    “Can’t you ask some randy cowhand to come by and help you?” He asked in his slow sleepy Franzel voice.

    “I asked my brother-in-law, Chris, and he just laughed and said he didn’t even know what a carburetor looked like. He said his gender didn’t make him motor proficient. Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you get the gist. Tom would help me, but he’s not here. You know maybe I can ask my new neighborly neighbor Dave to come by,” I mused.

    “You really should have someone there with you.” He said making me feel a little less cowardly. “If it doesn’t work next time, you might have to take the carburetor out and take it apart. Is it water cooled or air cooled.”

    “You’re kidding right?”  I asked and he laughed at me.

    “Uh no. It might just be too clogged. Or it still could be the spark plugs.” He suggested.

    “OK, OK, OK.”

    “Neezer? Do you have power now?”

    “Yes, it’s just that there’s been a lot of bad weather, we’re expecting more and it’s getting colder. Last year my pipes froze because my well pump doesn’t work when the power’s out. And my animal heat lamps will go out in the barn. It’s not really a problem yet, but I’m trying to get this handled before it is.”

    “Ahh planning ahead.”

    “Trying to.” I said hanging up.

    By the time we were ready to drive home the winds were picking up again so I told Nick I’d drive. He grumbled for a moment, but I think he was secretly relieved. He’s a good driver now and always prepared to compliment himself, but this was a little unnerving. We wound around state route 9 in silence and turned on to Mosquito Lake Road. We were almost home when we came upon a tree across the road resting on some kind of line. Was it a power line or phone? I didn’t know. We debated whether to turn back or go on.

 (To go or not to go? That is the question)
 

    “We have to feed the barn animals,” Nick said matter-of-factly.

    “With the bridge out, if we drive under it we might be trapped tomorrow. We might not be able to get out.” I explained.

    “And that’s a problem why?” Henry asked not wanting to go to school.

    “Yeah, I think we should take the chance. Going back means driving all the way back to Bellingham.” Nick added.

    “Nick maybe you and Henry should get out of the car while I drive under it. I think it’s safer.”

     “I’m not going out there. What if there’s another cougar? You kiddin’ me.”

    “Nicholas Lyle,Berger no cougar is going to come anywhere my van with the lights on and I have a horn.”

    “I am not going to be some kitty snack. I’m not going to lie. I’m afraid of the dark.”

    “Nick, I don’t want to take any chances. What if my van brushes one of the limbs and the tree comes down?”

    “I’ll take my chances.” Nick assured me in a tone that confirmed I wasn't getting him out of the van with out a crowbar. 

    “I’m doing what he’s doing.” Henry chimed in.

    In all honesty I didn’t know what the right answer was and having encountered four cougar in two years. The brown bear relocation project flashed through my head. A complete long shot, but who knows what evil lurks.

     I pulled up to the tree and punched it. I might own a van now, but it wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I would have thought a van a fate worse than sensible shoes and cotton panties. I went from my yellow CRX si to a sedan with a mean clutch when my mom had a breakdown I had strapped Henry’s car seat into two-seater. I inched forward and peeled out. Safe on the other side I started thinking about the morning. Amy, Andrew and little Max had a plane to catch to see her family for Thanksgiving.

    I called Puget Sound Energy and reported a downed tree on their line. Then I called Verizon and reported a downed tree on their line. I wasn’t taking any chances there was a tree down in our yard and the wind was picking up.

    “Yes, Ms. Miller we’ll be out to fix it. We promise to get there by uh… Tuesday.” A distracted woman from Verizon informed me.

    “Tuesday. Tuesday? Are you aware it is currently Thursday?” I asked incredulously.

    “Yes.”

    “Are you further aware we will be blocked in if the tree falls and it is not removed?”

    “Is there a phone number we can reach you at Ms. Miller?”

    “Not if the tree goes down.”

    “Oh right.” She said and I hung -up.

    I dialed my newly acquainted neighbor, Dave.

    “Dave, I hate to bother you, but I thought you should know, there is a tree hanging from a line blocking both of us from town. You might want to bring your chainsaw with you when you go to work. It might on the road by then.”

    “Thanks, I will.  The winds are terrifying. A really big pine tree went down roots and all by my house in the middle of the night. It smashed my 80-year-old chicken coop.” His voice was heavy and sad.

    “Oh that’s horrible.” I said shocked.

    “The dry summer, the endless rain and now the wind, it’s not a good combination. Every chicken I had died smashed into the ground. It’s funny I really miss them. I was attached you know?”

 (Dave's smashed chicken coop)

     “I do know. Do you think I should have the kids sleep downstairs? Or do you think I’m going too far. I don’t want to scare them.”

    “I don’t know you’re place is pretty in the clear except that front bedroom.”

    “That’s Henry’s, maybe I’ll have him sleep with me.” I thought out loud. “Well, see you soon. Say hello to Gnatalie and the boys.”

    “Thanks for the chainsaw tip. No one much cares what happens up here. If we get stranded we’re last on the list.” He pointed out.

    “Dead last.”  I agreed. I hung-up made a cup of Earl Grey added a splash of 2% and started researching how to clean a carburetor – just in case.

November 8th Git Along Little Dogies

 (a beaver sighting across the pasture and after closer investigation I located a dam! Not at the pond - but in our creek)

    When we woke up on Sunday morning, Henry couldn’t see outside. “It’s like a carwash out there.” Not our usual. Sure Washington is known for it’s rain and most people complain about it constantly to keep the tourists away, but truly we usually get a misty rain. Only tourists carry “dumbrellas” as Tom calls them. In fact, I’m not quite considered local wearing a hood as I do on occasion. I asked a customer at the Everybody Store if she shouldn’t put on her jacket to go to her car with the downpour we were having. She turned and smiled over her shoulder at me as she put me in my place. “I’m from Washington. It’s not like I expect to stay dry.”

    Now almost full-blown Washingtonians it was time to bring our cows home. Weather or not. Armed with determination, some lead ropes and a bucket of grain. The boys and I followed my neighbor Dave’s instructions to his house. We turned left on the logging road and proceeded straight. He’d opened the metal arm that normally blocks any misguided motorists from venturing deep into the forest.

    “Hasn’t it been at least a mile?” Nick wondered as he drove carefully down the gravel road.

    “Maybe we missed it?” Henry added. “Maybe we were supposed to turn back there where it forked.”

    “Nope, there’s the old dump truck he was talking about.”

    “Wow that is an old dump truck. And look at that old horse trailer,” Henry noted.

    “Doesn’t look like he likes visitors much,” Nick said taking heed of the signs.

 (the welcome marker)

 (On the logging road)

 (Private Property)

    We all looked at each other. He’d seemed like a nice guy on the phone, but here I was driving into the forest with two kids. I felt as though I might be embarking into some terrifying thriller. As we crept a long I tried convincing myself Jack Nicholson was not just around the bend. I swear if either boy had said, “Redrum” we would have been out of there.

    My breathing resumed when the cows came into view. I opened the window and yelled “Abe! Andy!” and they came running with that clinking, clanking sound. Smiles and excitement filled the car. Our cows loved us! Our cows missed us! Our cows were coming home!

 (Abe and Andy come a runnin')

    We hopped out of the car and introduced ourselves to the mule eyeing us. “His name is Pablo,” Dave said walking up. “He’s a troublemaker,” he added laughing.

    “What does he do?” Henry asked.

    “Well, I can’t keep him in with my cows, Peggy and Tucker because he chases them. He’ll run poor Peggy into a frenzy. He likes to stir things up.” Dave explained.

    “Will he hurt them?” Nick asked.

    “Actually, I think he just wants to play,” Dave said with a smile.

 (Pablo eyes us)

 (Pablo says hello)

 (Pablo is a water boy)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo examines a rock)

 (Pablo with Dave's house in the background)

 (my neighbor Dave)

    We all chatted a bit with rain dripping down our faces “How long have you lived here?” I asked.

    “Oh since the early seventies. I grew up in Bellingham.”

    “You don’t have internet do you?”

    “Not yet.”

    “Electricity?”

    “When I turn on the power switch.”

    “Heat?”

    “Wood. I do have a propane tank, but I try not to use it.”

    “Running water?”

    “The best water ever, from the creek.”

    “Television?” I asked doubtfully.

    “I have that! When I turn on the power and I am thinkin’ about getting the Internet. I guess you have it?”

    “I’m from Los Angeles,” was all I said and all I needed to say. I felt very techie. “And I thought my home was quiet, all you hear out here is the forest I’ll bet.”

    “And my chickens.” He pointed toward the house where they were out in the rain pecking at the grass.

    “Gnatalie sure has played a lot with Peggy’s calf, Tucker,” Dave said. “I’m sure he’s going to miss her and Peggy, she’s a natural mother. She loved having all the company. These fellas have been a real kick. That one there he moos the minute he sees me coming.” Dave said wistfully.

 (Nick petting Gnat)

 (Abe, Gnatalie and Abe)

 (Pretty Peggy)

 (baby Tucker)

 (the herd)

    “That’s Abe he’s a chatty one.”

    “I’ll say he’s chatty.” Dave grinned.

    Henry not wanting to waste any time or an opportunity, he had proceeded walking toward Mosquito Lake Road with our three cows behind him. Gnatalie was our “Norman”.

    Just as Gnatalie left the far point of the pasture fence, she realized she was being lured away from her precious surrogate mama, Peggy, and her beloved playmate, Tucker. She turned back at full tilt. She arrived back at the gate planting herself in the mud. It was apparent there was going to be no moving her today. She started mooing for Peggy who mooed back.

 (Gnatalie on the run)

    As I watched I couldn’t help but feel sad. She’d much rather be with these two than our boys. It was no surprise, but I felt badly for her. “We’ve been struggling whether or not to get Gnatalie’s grandmother and her new calf. I guess the decision’s made.” I said.

    “Well, she’s no trouble at all. Why don’t you just leave her here until you get them?” Dave suggested in a might neighborly way.

    “That’s really kind of you. It makes me sad she’d rather be here than with our two cows, but I’ve known all along they really didn’t accept her.”

    Dave put Gnatalie back in with her new family. Henry had gotten quite a ways with the boys by now so I bid Dave good-bye and hurried to catch up with him. Nick brought up the rear in the van.

 (Peggy, Gnatalie and Tucker)

 (Henry, Abe and Andy)

(Henry and the boys)

 (Andy on the way home stopping for a bit of grain- Nick driving the van)

 (Abe and the van)

    Here we were on a cattle drive with 255 horses. OK so we had the van, a girl can dream. I imagined Roy Rogers warbling a campfire tune. Henry walked on sans harmonica giving the boys little tastes of grain along the way. It was going almost too easily until we hit the pipeline trail; which was the route they took from our house to Dave’s. Abe and Andy stopped and almost pointed as if we were too stupid to know the way home. I might have gone that way, but Nick was driving the van and if we went that way he’d have to drive on Mosquito Lake Road by himself.

 (Abe and Andy - point to the pipeline trail where the silver gate is-)

     I considered that if Henry and I had any trouble Nick wouldn’t be with us and wouldn’t know what was going on. I decided everyone should stay together. The cattle complied and we all went on. I broke into a lame version of “Home on the Range”, imagining I was Mrs. Barkley. I figured Henry for Heath and Nick seemed the well, to be Nick.  We were walking and singing until we got to the road. It was then I could hear my sister’s words in the back of my head as soon as the cows spooked. “Cows don’t like a change in footing, that’s why cattle guards work.” I was still surprised because they’d been on the road plenty of times and had no problem. Of course, that was  by our house, but I guess for whatever reason in their cagey cow minds this was different. Very different.

    Suddenly it was cows gone wild. A cattle drive gone berserk. They ran up and down, racing in between trees, up the hill down the hill and then they were gone. Gone. Henry and I ran into the forest, and for a while we could hear them but we couldn’t see no longer see them. Suddenly, I realized we were in the middle of the forest without a weapon of any kind. We walked to the road and motioned for Nick to join us in the car. Only Nick didn’t see us because he was too busy listening to his ipod to notice. We trudged back and told him to drive back toward Dave’s.

    “You really think you’re going to find them?” Nick was in complete disbelief.

    “What choice do we have? I don’t want them gone for good. I’m worried. Thank goodness they have the bell.” I told him. “They’re lost in the forest. They could break a leg.”

    “At least Gnatalie’s not with them.” Nick said kindly.

    “Yeah, that would be a lot worse.”

    We drove back with our windows down listening for the bells. I got out and started looking at one of the forks. I figured I might see their tracks and determine if they’d been this way. I was scanning the mud just as a small car pulled up and rolled its window down.

    “YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN” the woman shouted unnecessarily.

    “Uh, yeah.” Nick answered quietly looking at her as if she was insane.

    “THEY”RE UP THE NEXT LOGGIN’ ROAD!” She hollered again and sped off.

    I walked back to the van and we continued looking for our little lost cows. We took the logging road and ended up in a creepy deserted place filled with strange little statues. “Redrum” kept running through my mind. “Uhh, let’s go back to Dave’s,” I told Nick.

    “Good idea.” He agreed readily. “This place is hella trippin.’”

    “What are those anyway? Goats?” Henry asked hesitantly and “Who put them there.”

 (strange statues)

    “And why?” Nick asked. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” Nick started and Henry joined in. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” They screamed at the top of their lungs over and over as if this was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, until they broke into peels of laughter successfully breaking the strange little statue tension.

    By the time we got back to Dave’s, Abe and Andy were in the pasture calmly grazing on a bale of hay. We got out of the car and were chastising them when Dave walked up.

    “They found their way back and now that they’ve eaten, I don’t think there’s much chance of them going today.” He said. 

    “No I don’t’ either they got way too freaked out. We were almost home, only a tenth of a mile to the gate when wham. It was a cattle drive circus.”

    “Well, they can all stay here until we figure out what to do next. Anyway maybe we should try again in better weather.” He said brightly.

    “I can bring you some hay over.” I offered.

    “Naaa, I’m ok. Go home, get warm.” He said. “I’ll call a friend and see if we can borrow his trailer next week.”

    I wondered if he was smirking at the city slickers. No matter, I felt more inept than Billy Crystal at the moment.

 (Abe and Andy with their hay)
 
 

 

November 4th Little Runaway

 (fall slips into winter on highway 9)

    After a summer of long languid dusty dry evenings, it’s time to pay the piper. We wake up in the dark; we drive home in the dark and the rain. Nick is no longer confused as to why vampires are said to exist peacefully in Washington. He’s taking Vitamin D now to battle his constant desire to cuddle up in his Snuggie™ and go to sleep at 7:30.

    The endless rain and the resulting mud had gotten so miserable I let the cows out of the pasture. I was worried Gnatalie wasn’t eating because her little legs were too short to walk up to the hay feeder. The weight of the bigger boys churned the earth so deeply I was afraid she might get stuck or break a leg in the mud, so I let them roam around. I figured at this point Gnatalie was sufficiently part of the herd and the boys would take care of her. 

 (Miracle and Edward take a turn at the cows round bale feeder)

 (Gnatalie hears her name and comes a runnin')

 (Gnatilie on the way)

 (Gnatalie - giving me memories of Lefty and Pancho - but she doesn't even come up to my side mirrors)

 (On the other hand -Pancho a Milking Shorthorn- back in the day- his back obscured the roof line of my van)

    They seemed to really enjoy their renewed freedom, drinking from the pond and trotting around the property. One moment they’d be by the creek eating peacefully and the next they’d be across the pasture for no apparent reason. A few nights ago the boys and I came home and had just finished putting the barn animals to away and when we noticed there in the dark not more than a few yards away were Abe, Andy and Gnatalie. They’d bed down in the Kubota barn. Three enormous mammals were all lying there and we none of us had seen them nor felt their presence.

“What if they’d been cougar? We’d be dead. Dead I tell you. Ripped to shreds! What THE…” Nick started.

 (Andy, Gnatalie and Abe)

    “Nicky is right they are ambush predators.” Henry interjected. I too was amazed we could have missed animals their size even in the darkness. It was unnerving, but their quiet gentle presence made me think of the serenity of the Nativity. Entranced I walked over and couldn’t resist joining them. Henry, Nick and I chatted with them, pet and snuggled them. It was a magical kind of moment, and then we bid them goodnight and went in the house.

 (Gnatalie gets a scratch)

 (Gnatalie and me)

 (Gnatalie, Denise and Abe)

 (Gnatalie looks at Nick while she gets a little snuggle)


    The next few days, they bed down by the house. They seemed to be enjoying the company of the other animals and our comings and goings. We looked forward to seeing them, until the night the pesky equine, Edward and Miracle happened in like the mafia. They came in noses down pushing our docile friends aside, intent on taking over the territory. Gentle souls, Abe, Andy and Gnatalie gave up their beds and moved back down to the pasture bells clanging as they went.

     Tonight, when we got home, Henry hopped out of the car to open the gate and found a note thumbtacked to the latch.

    Scrawled in blue cursive was “I think I have your cattle at my house. I am just on the other side of the pipeline rd. from you. Call me – Dave”.

    “Someone has our cows?” I blurted to the boys.

    “What? They’re gone?” Nick said shocked.

    “Well, I don’t know, I mean I saw them the other day, but we leave in the dark and then we get home in the dark, I guess they could be.” I reasoned.

    “The bells, listen for the bells,” Henry said sensibly. We rolled down the windows, but all we heard was the wind blowing the leaves off the trees in the forest.

    “Have you ever noticed the wind in the trees sounds like a rushing river?” Henry asked.

    “I have noticed that and at times. A few times I’ve really thought it was the sound of a river. It’s kind of amazing. I don’t hear any bells. Do you? I think they really might be gone.”

    “What the hell. The cows ran away from home? Gnatalie! Where’s little Gnatalie?” Nick worried.

    “She’s probably with them they’re a herd now,” Henry assured him.

    My stomach churned as I dialed my neighbor Dave’s number. “Hello? My name’s Denise and I understand you might have my cows?”

    “Yeah that’s right. I think they’re yours. Two big guys and a little one?”

    “That’s them!”

    “I used to drive past your place everyday on my way to town before the bridge closed so I was pretty sure they were yours. One of them, the one with the bell.”

    “That’s Andy.”

    “Well, Andy broke into my pasture last night. I heard the bell. It’s a good thing you have the bell because I heard it and wondered what the heck it was. I went outside with my flashlight and saw him. He’d broken the fence to get in my pasture to be with my cow and her calf. The other two were just sitting on my lawn. I’ve never seen such friendly cows in my life. They just like to be pet and that little one. I just want to put her in my pocket.” He said with a laugh.

    “That’s them alright. I’m so sorry about your fence.” I said feeling terrible and wondering how I was going to pay for Andy’s escapades.

    “Oh that’s ok I fixed it. Now how you’re going to get them back I don’t know.”

    “Well, my biggest problem is when. I think I can get them home, but I just can’t go over and do it in the dark and I have to work.”

    “That’s ok I can keep them here and we can work it out this weekend.”

    “Really? That’s so nice of you. I can bring some hay by.”

    “Nahh, that’s ok I’ve got plenty of hay and I like having them around. The little one is playing with the calf, Tucker.”

    Well, thank you. I’ll give you a call and come by on Saturday morning then. I don’t know exactly where you are. I’ve never seen your house.”

    “That’s because I’m a mile back in the forest. It’s not hard to find, but I’ll better direct you Saturday. Otherwise you’ll end up at my brother-in-law’s place.”  As we hung-up I couldn’t help but chuckle.

    The phone rang, “What’s going on?” Tom asked expecting what I don’t know, but I assure you he did not expect.

    “Gnatalie and the boys ran away from home and are having a sleepover.” 

October 23rd Sweet Smell of Success

 (Mosquito Lake Road all dressed up)

    Irish is a life-size Winnie the Pooh only entirely too smart. Somehow he managed to figure out how to turn the spigot on the giant honey container we kept in the kitchen. Honey oozed everywhere. I only discovered it because I heard the repetitive smacking of happy dog lips coming from the kitchen. We no longer use that container – and rest assured it was only our personal honey.

 (retired honey bucket)

    To introduce Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey™ and Henry’s Stingers™  Henry cheerfully made our display for the Everybody Store Cheese Fest. I gave him the basic information that needed to be included and he set to work drawing, printing, organizing and coloring.  Henry has to do almost all the work to give it that authentic “kid feel”. He created the honey display much the way he would have had it been for the Science Fair.

    At the same time Henry was cutting and pasting bee facts, I was staining and stuffing the Auction basket for the Humane Society. We were donating an oil painting (Tom did), some honey, some Stingers™ and a “Bee Experience” – an afternoon where the winning bidders get to come out and don bee suits, learn about hive life from Henry and Mike, tend to the bees and then extract honey from the comb and have it on some hot corn bread with lemonade.

 (Henry's pepper)

 (fresh from Michaels)

 (in progress)

 (Henry's Sweet Miracle Honey™ labels fresh off the printer from Tom)

 

 (Whoo hooo!)

 (Henry doing heat seals)

 (jars galore)

 

 

    To add another layer to an already busy night we had to put labels and safety seals on all the products. And- were also giving out Stinger™ straws for each plate at the $1000.00 a table Humane Society Masquerade Gala. Each person was to have a Stingers™ at the top of their dinner plate with a label tied on with a small portion of green pipe cleaner.  The labels were specially made with Chris's help directing the guests to our new website and encouraging them to enter their email addresses. It told of Henry’s desire to donate a portion of the profits to the preservation of honeybees and offered a chance to win stuff! I thought this was going to be wonderful. It was our big chance to get in front of more than 250 people not on food stamps that have an obvious concern for the environment and who participate and support local products. I was thrilled. Only FedEx did not deliver. Tom sent the labels two-day guaranteed delivery for 3:00PM. But they never arrived and what’s worse FedEx had no explanation as to why.

    “I’m sorry it looks as though the package has gone all over the place and has been in Seattle since 11:00 this morning.” A man said somewhat apologetically.

    “I saw that on the tracking information. My question is – why? I could have driven to Seattle and gotten them by now.” I was more than annoyed. My plans were going by the wayside quickly.

    “I have no idea why. I’m sorry, but the facility the package is at is just a sorting facility, they don’t deliver. I don’t know why it ended up there.

    “So that’s it then? I can’t even get them delivered to the event tomorrow?” I asked resigned.

    “Honestly, I doubt it. “ He said more apologetically. So at 7:00 PM after my fifteenth phone call I finally accepted the labels were going to spend another couple days in a warehouse in Seattle and I tried to figure out what to do next.

    Tom suggested sending the file to a Kinkos™ and trying to reprint and cut them all over again. That would cost a fortune and I had to be at the ding-dang Cheese Fest by 9:00AM. So I nixed this idea. Amy suggested we reconfigure a version of the Stingers™ label in Photoshop™ and print a placard for each table. That sounded good and Amy, Henry and I worked for quite a while on doing just that. Then my sister told me that was a no-go because you had to pay to do that as a sponsor. So in the end they got stuck in a vase without any real label other than “try one – spicy” and put next to our donation.  No one did. We got back almost as many as we sent.

 (Amy hanging out and getting wrangled in)

 (ready for the auction)

 

 (Henry and Mike, Tom's oil on raw burlap, Henry's Sweet Miracle Honey™ and Henry's Stingers™)

 (Lisa as the King of Pop and Chris as Julia Child on their way to the Humane Society Gala - Lisa is on the Board of Directors - did I mention Lisa can moonwalk?)

    Meanwhile back at the honey house Henry put the finishing touches on his display and together we double-checked our list of supplies we’d need to load in the van in the morning.

 (I didn't want to make a turkey out of myself and forget something)

 (Silence checking everything twice)

 (this is the result of a turkey stepping off the top of the rabbit hutch and on to my face - Richard lost his balance - nothing a little make-up wouldn't fix- lucky my eye didn't get any closer)

    Once at the Everybody Store, I set up the display and the rest was all Henry. He got into his beekeeper suit and went to work. Jeff moseyed out to see what all the fuss was about and gave it the skeptical once over. “Safety seals huh? Professional. Nice display” was all he said and went back inside with a jingle of the bells on the front door. I think he thought Henry would stick to it for about six minutes. But Henry is my child. He waved at cars motioned for them to come in and asked everyone who even came near the store if they would like to taste some of his “special” honey. He was like a Girl Scout selling cookies to the 4^th power.

    Every time someone rang up a jar of Henry’s I could hear Jeff mumble, “He’s sure selling a lot of honey.” This is primarily because Amy decided the store wouldn’t be involved in any of the honey money. Henry simply gave his honey customers a ticket, they paid at the register and then Jeff would give him / us cash at the end of the day. 

 (Henry working)

 (our tagline "Give bees a chance")

 (giving Stingers™ samples)

 (Henry and John from Peterson Cheese)

    The Cheese Fest rolled on quietly. There were cheeses aged in caves and cheeses with truffles and somehow Henry got the cheese expert, John, to drizzle Stingers™ on some of the brie. “It’s really good this way. I think I’m going to mention it to the chef at the Silver Reef Casino” the Peterson rep told me “Maybe Peterson should carry it.” He thought out loud.

    While in the midst of giving a sample of triple cream Bavarian Blue to a woman, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd. I looked at the woman, who smiled back at me and realized it was Roberta, my mail lady.

    “You weren’t home and this package needs a signature,” she explained as she patiently waited by the deli case. I was incredulous. I do live in Mayberry. FedEx left my package in some warehouse while my local post office stopped in at the Everybody Store Cheese Fest for my signature? My faith was restored. I thanked her profusely, signed for the package and tucked it behind Henry’s honey table for later. 

    At the end of the day, when I got off work, Henry was invited with the “Big boys” to go play handball. I cleaned up and loaded the van. Henry had sold two cases and Jeff asked to be cut in on the action for tomorrow. He wanted Henry back with his display. “The kid’s a shill,” Jeff grunted. This was high praise from Mr. Margolis.

 (a fiery display on the old Mosquito Lake Road)

    As Henry walked back from the handball court along side the railroad tracks, he looked very Opie Taylor and it warmed my heart. We head home and he was full of stories of customers and tastings. He suggested changes for tomorrow. He wanted more crackers and popcorn, the pears didn’t hold up throughout the day. “They started to get brown and people don’t like that.” He explained wriggling out of his bee suit. “Alexis said he couldn’t believe how much honey I sold. Maybe I can do this every weekend,” he said as Irish smelling honey sharked around the kitchen counter looking for his opportunity.

 (land shark)

October 21st Back To The Future

(My mother, after being 89lbs and in a wheelchair - fought her way back to go on a three-week safari)

Dear Mom,

    I’ve been feeling lost and alone lately and my friend, Sherry, from work suggested I write you a letter because I miss you so much. I wasn’t going to do it until this morning when I was in the laundry room and I could hear Irish climbing up on the kitchen counter to try and eat my English muffin. He didn’t see me so he thought I wasn’t anywhere around. Was he shocked. 

 (no dog should be this big)

 Anyway, it made me think of Corinthians  

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part,

But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

I believe you’re around even though I don’t see you – like Peek-a-Boo

(my mom and me - playing peek-a-boo)

    I don’t know why people say time makes it easier, because it doesn’t. It’s just longer since I’ve heard your laugh or felt your arms. Well, here’s the long and the short of it Mama. I’m tired. I’m not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep will cure, but the kind of depleted exhaustion that makes things feel hopeless. I question my choices. I wonder what you would tell me if you could. I listen for your voice.

    Where should I put my energy? What should I leave behind? My day begins at 5:00 AM. I get up and make lunches and spend a little time having a quiet cup of coffee. I need the time just to be alone. Then I wake up the boys and harangue them into getting ready. We feed the dogs, the cats and open up the barn to let the goats, sheep, geese, ducks and turkeys out. Except on the days we’re running late or it’s too dark like today.

    On the way to school, I sit in the passenger seat on these dark fall mornings and grip my coffee while Nick drives us to school. You don’t know Nick, but you knew his Mom, Lisa Gomez. Nick’s a funny thing. He makes Henry and me laugh. He adds a bit of work because he’s not sure he should have to study, I know what you’re thinking, no, he’s nothing like his mom – Miss 4.0 G.P.A. Anyway he’s silly, lighthearted and likes to push my buttons, just like Henry – always telling me I’m “trippin’.”

 (Silly Nicholas Lyle)

 (Henry and Nick laugh)

    He’s quickly turning into a farmer. He did a photo assignment for class and was outraged because the students thought Lloyd was a duck. “You kiddin’ me with that neck!”

    He’s done a “hella good job driving” if you ask him. He’s gone on the freeway, driven in the rain and is slowly mastering the left-hand turn. Naturally, he’s nervous when trucks are barreling toward him on the highway. I remember when you first let me drive on Pear Blossom Highway after we went skiing one day. I didn’t think that fear of facing a truck would ever subside, but it did just like you said.

 (Nick taking the wheel)

 (Lloyd - Franklin, Richard, Silence and Rachel)

    What would you say now? You see, when I went to have my taxes done the other day. Yes, I know I, I know most people have done there’s but I got them done and mailed on October 15^th. That is the deadline, I made it by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin. My accountant, Kelly, said that I am not a bad person although I am paying her. She also told me that the Conservation site where a lot of Bellingham schools go to for their outdoor education is closed this year, and as a result there are a group of parents who heard about Fort Flashback and would like to see if they could have one of the Bellingham Schools come up here for a Colonial or Pioneer experience in the late Spring. Kelly says this is Fort Flashback’s big chance. Which of course is what we’ve been waiting for and I’m pursuing, making appointments with parents designing curriculum and trying to attend the school board meeting.

    But after I drop off the boys I have to race back home and let the animals out now that the mornings are so dark and then run to work. I work at the Everybody Store in Van Zandt for minimum wage. The people are friendly and the job is quirky. In the summer I weeded the strawberry garden and now I’m picking apples in the orchard.  We’re going to debut Henry’s Miracle Honey™ and Stingers™ there in a few days.

    It’s the company Henry thought up. He’s a lot like you with a bunch of get rich quick schemes and a hard worker. He wants to be the Paul Newman of honey. There’s a spicy garlic/pepper you’d love and of course regular plain old honey. It’s one thing to think it up though and another thing to bring it t market. There are a myriad of things to think of. Researching label printing versus buying a printer, then which printer and how much ink, which labels go with which bottle size and shape. Creating recipes, trademarks versus registered marks,getting upc codes, noting proper warnings, verifying nutrition facts, testing recipes, deciding on safety seals, buying a heat gun, creating a limited liability partnership, running focus group testing, applying for food processing permits, getting hair nets, choosing & buying urls, checking into shipping, obtaining hive permits, finding kitchen rentals, creating brand identity, applying for business licenses, getting professional memberships, deciding on donations, making wholesale pricing, deciding whether to try retail, calling the rabbi about the kosher symbol and point of sale promotions. It takes hours of planning, calling, filling out of forms, comparing prices and then of course the price per unit because Tom and I would actually like to make a profit and live together before Henry goes to college.

 (in Seattle getting the jars at the Specialty Bottle Company)

 (loading up - a tight fit with Nick, Quinn, Henry - Tom and me)

 (Mike and Henry with the heated scraper- uncapping the honey- for extraction)

 (extractor)

 (Henry, Nick, Mike and Tom put the frames in the honey extractor)

 (Donna with the official honey drill-mixer - we're getting our license)

 (Donna stirring a Stingers™ bucket for Celia - of the Department of Agriculture)

 (Stingers™ - 16 ounces)

 (The oval hexagon honey jars)

 (Henry's Crest for social studies - a project gone wild - Henry prefers my jigsaw over Tom's - easier to hold for little hands)

 (Henry selects symbols that represent him)

 (Henry is on fire - loving 7th grade)

 (Lord Henry? We hope - the teacher will determine his status)

    After I finish at the Everybody Store I race back to town with a snack and pick-up the boys. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday we go to Burlington for gymnastics. To save time, and fit in Henry’s cornet, he does his practice in the car on the way. Nick makes him put a sock in the horn to muffle the sound. It works pretty well. At 4:00 we stop at the Common Ground, a little coffee shop, where the owner never remembers us. Henry and Nick do their homework for an hour. I have a cup of Earl Grey with a splash of milk and help interpret U.S. History and Algebra. If Nick needs help in Visual Communications we call Tom.

    When I drop off Henry, Nick finishes his homework or chauffeurs me around Burlington running errands to Home Depot™ or the bank or the market. That’s the time I go to Weight Watchers™. I've lost six whole pounds so far and I'm going to keep going. We get home around 9:00PM. I couldn’t manage at all if Lisa Gomez hadn’t gotten me my new Crock-Pot ™ and instituted a few new laundry rules. I’m not allowed to leave laundry in the dryer or fold it and put it in a basket. “Laundry belongs in the laundry room” according to Lisa. I am to take it out of the dryer and put it flat on top. – no more than two loads. Then I must put it away before I am allowed to wash another load. - I’m still a laundry mess but this seems to be a system I can manage – I must say in this area you failed as a mother. What were you teaching me instead of laundry? Oh right, how to have fun and be happy. Well, I mastered that for the most part although I slip occasionally.

    The farm takes up a lot of my time, but I love feeding the cows, tending to the turkeys and the chickens, cleaning stalls, this is what makes me happy.  It’s just trying to pay the bills and find a way to get ahead while doing this and vacuuming up dog hair and testing the generator, insulating the well and chopping wood. My biggest challenge at home is Deli, dad’s dog. She was living with my kooky tenant, Amy, until she killed Amy’s treasured bunny, Rizzo, and is more than likely responsible for the disappearance of Charlotte, the cranky sugar glider. Consequently, Deli’s back with me. She can open every door except the one to my bedroom and so there she stays most of the time imprisoned. She’s sweet and great with the cats, but I can’t take her getting out with the barnyard animals anymore. Strangely, Amy still loves her, but can’t risk Frenchie her other bunny and I can’t blame her. Really what she needs is a small inescapable yard and someone who’d take her on a walk. She’s really a couch potato and a love bug at heart. I don’t know what to do. I can just hear you “Are you kidding me? Your father’s dog? You’re letting your father’s dog ruin your household? – and then “but she’s so cuddly and soft and sweet and gentle…” Where you’d end up on this one remains a mystery.

 (Miracle and Edward horse around)

 (Nick took this picture of Ed peeking in to say hello)

 (Angus resting by a tree)

 (ducks to the left - goats center, turkeys in the foreground and geese in back)

    On a positive note, the pond is so full now it’s overflowing. My tears of anguish were for not. A lot of good came out of the pond drying up. If it hadn’t been for the dry ground I couldn’t have had these nice guys come out and get the gravel out for me in exchange for some firewood. They created a road with the gravel they got out which goes all the way from my driveway to the pond. The pond is almost its normal size again. Almost, because it’ll never be as deep due to the silt and I couldn’t ask them to work any harder than they did, but the island is an island again and Wally’s former residence is suitable for beaver habitation. I can hear you saying “See, you never know what good thing is going to come out of something bad.”

 (reflecting)

 (a real pond again)

 (Luther dressed for fall - crossing the creek)

 (an island again!)

 (water flowing)

 (Beaver ready)

    Gone are the long summer days. Instead, the cool crisp fall brings buttery browns and buttery golds. The rains have come with a vengeance making up for the dry summer. The mud got so deep one day in the pasture I had to let the cows out into the field. I was afraid Gnatalie would get stuck trying to go to the feeder and break a leg.

(autumn is here)

    We want to get her grandmother, Petite and her uncle, but Deli broke the fence going down to the pasture and I just don’t have the money to fix it right now. Ahh such is life on the farm. Speaking of which, there is some interest believe it or not to make our lives a reality show a cross between Walton’s and Green Acres I’m told. I kid you not. We took some footage, but now I can’t seem to get it edited and that’s a whole other job in itself.

    Some of my friends have asked me if I would really do it and truly the answer is yes. It beats the idea of food stamps. I’m not proud any longer I’m just trying to survive. Perhaps, I dream too big.  But the truth is you taught me to be happy with simple things. I can remember you so sick with cancer sitting in your wheel chair outside on your deck. Suddenly you’d smile at the sight of a Stellar Jay or an unexpected egret or those Japanese fishing birds that moved in to the lake. You told me “happiness is not a destination, it’s a decision. If you wait until something, to be happy, you’ll be happy very little. It’s better to be happy at the sight of a flower or a bird or new shoes. Happiness isn’t about all these big things people have such expectations about like Christmas Day. When you want so much from one day you’re bound to be disappointed. It’s better to make everyday special.” This is why I don’t get the laundry done.

    I listened, and I still sing Henry the new shoe song and he sings it to me. I don’t want to be rich Mama; the rich have their own problems. I just want to live life on my farm, laugh with my family and have enough money to take Henry to the E.R. every time he needs it. Oh and did I mention I’d like a pedicure every once in-a-while.

    I do take some time for myself. I write and I have a treadmill. I watch All My Children with the boys while I walk. It’s funny how comforting it is to see the same actors on the show that were on when I watched it with you and Grandma Irene. Tad was in middle school then and now he’s a grandfather. It’s predictable, and silly I suppose and I can go a couple of years without seeing it and pick it up in a week but like it just the way I like getting bubble gum balls out of vending machines. And it’s funny, when Henry says something about one of the characters that you liked or didn’t like, I feel as though I’m a time traveler.

 (Christina and  Irene - her beloved mother-in-law who was more like a mother than anyone she'd ever known )

    Well, as I look outside at the sun peeking through the clouds and the vibrant blue sky against the scarlet trees I realize Mom my time is up. Jeff called and cancelled me for today at the store so I didn’t have to work which meant I had a little snippet to myself, but school’s almost out and I have to check on the progress of the honey sticks we want to give out on Halloween, exchange the winter coat I bought Bruno, pay the garbage bill, see about a couple of electric blankets for the boys, go to the bank and then off to gymnastics.

    I’ll have to tell Sherry her idea worked. I do feel as though we’ve had a little cup of coffee together and I feel a lot better.

(Me - in my sigma chi shirt - and my Mom staying up all night in a German train station - having espresso and chatting with other travelers)

All my love – always

 

Denisie

October 4th Heads Or Tails?

 (Gnatalie, with Abe and Andy together for a rare moment)

            Everyday when I look out on my pasture I see two beautiful deep red steer, Abe and Andy and then I scan the field for Gnatalie who is inevitably all alone half a field away. I feel like I’ve ruined her life. The boys tolerate her, but I’ve accepted that’s about as much as they’re going to do. I’m surprised, because I thought a female was a female was a female and with Anna gone they would latch onto Gnat, but they haven’t. Since when were males picky?

    Tom, Nick, Henry and I couldn’t take it any longer so this morning I called Susie at Pixie Forest Farm to see if there was any way we could swing a payment plan to add Veronica or Marie.

    Coincidently, Quinn had a soccer game near Seattle, so on our way to Lake Stevens, we met up with team Donaldson and took Phoebe with us to see baby cows.

    When we arrived Susie suggested we take a look at a little bull who was still intact and not yet weaned. “Heck if you just need a companion for Gnatalie then it really doesn’t matter if it’s a female. Steers are a lot cheaper.”

    “Cheaper is good.” I said open-minded as we walked over to the small herd.

 (Mama and new baby)

    “Oh my gosh they’re sooo itty-bitty,” Phoebe purred as she looked at some calves that were only a few days old. “I want to touch one.” She said as she tried to near each of the new babies, but they managed to stay just out of reach.

    “I don’t know, he looks a little like a pig,” Tom whispered. “Don’t you think? I still like Veronica better.”

    “And I like Marie,” Henry added. So after looking at the herd and getting introduced to Montana, one of Susie’s bulls, we headed over to Susie’s other field where Veronica, Marie were living.

 (Petite and her baby boy)

 (baby bull)

 (Montana with his curly hairdo)

 (Olive an unusually colored Dexter- she actually is olive)

 (Henry with Tom)

 (sniffing Henry)

 (Phoebe twirls around at Nick)

 (babies)

 (Phoebe- is 9?)

 Here piggy,piggy?)

    Veronica and Marie were as adorable as ever, but not nearly as tame as they had been on our last visit. Susie assured us she would be working with them again so they would be more people friendly when they’re ready to leave her.

    “The thing is, one of the reasons I don’t like Gnatalie down in the pasture with the boys is proximity. We just don’t spend the time with her we would if she was up in the yard.” I said.

    “It’s true, we just don’t walk down to the pasture and hang out.  And we don’t want her to lose her snuggliness. Henry piped up.

    Who’s that?”  Tom asked pointing to the black cow Henry was hugging. “I like her.”

 (Nick feeds the cows for Susie)

 (Marie chomping on dinner)

 (Tom is smitten with Veronica)

 (Henry and Maureen next to Ladybug - Gnatalie's mother)

 (Nick,Henry, and Maureen)

 (Nick, Henry & Phoebe with Marie)

    “That’s Maureen, I’d have a hard time selling her, she's wonderful but I have a completely different suggestion. Do you remember Petite? She was the mother of the little bull I was showing you. She has a problem with her udder during pregnancy it almost hangs on the ground and I don’t think I can breed her anymore so it’s either find her a home where she’s a pet or butcher her. And to tell you the truth I lover her so muchI don’t want to butcher her.”

    “Uh oh, Andy.” Tom interjected. Susie looked at me blankly.

    “That’s how we got Andy, he wasn’t originally part of the package, but they were calling him Hamburger and so she took him too.” Tom explained.

    “And Alexander,” Henry reminded us.

    "And Alexander.” Tom agreed

    “And Apache,” Henry interjected.

    “And Apache.” I agreed. Lord I was a soft touch. I could already feel myself leaning toward Petite. “Well, the thing I like is that she’s already used to people. I think it’s difficult to spend the time with each of them and I like the idea Gnatalie would have a companion she could look up to.” I rationalized.

    “But we really wanted a baby.” Nick said.

    “Well,” Susie started, “First off, I should also tell you Petite is Gnatalie's grandma and her baby is Gnatalie's uncle. I was thinking about you wanting a baby and thought maybe I could make it a package deal and send Petite with her little boy.”

    “Two? You’re going to get two?” Phoebe said wide-eyed and incredulous

    “I didn’t say that! And don’t you dare tell your mother that. She’ll lose it.”

    “Tell me." She said dryly. "You’re not at my house after she hangs up with you.” Phoebe said wisely.

    We all tumbled back into the van and headed back to Susie’s to see what we thought of Petite.  “Look I don’t think I want three Dexters. And frankly, I don’t know how much two would cost. I’m not sure I’d want them if she threew the baby in for free.”

    “Well, you’re the one who’d be doing most of the work.” Tom said rationally.

    “Do you still want Veronica?” I asked.

    “No. I really like her, but she’s got to be a lot more than Petite or maybe we should just take the little boy.”

    “What about Maureen? I like her,” Henry suggested.

    “Susie doesn’t want to sell her so she’s going to be a lot more money.” Tom explained.

    The phone rang. I knew it would be Lisa and Chris wondering where we were because Quinn’s soccer game was just about over. “So do you have a cow strapped to your luggage rack?” She said cracking herself up.

    “Uh, no. We’re not leaving here with a cow today.” I said confidently and firmly, knowing none of them were weaned and we couldn’t fit Petite in the back of the van.

    “How much longer?

    “We’re just going back to Susie’s other field to take one more look and then we’re on our way.” I assured her.

    “Okayyyy. See you soon.” She said with the distinct sound of doubt in her voice as though she really expected me to show up at Starbucks with a cow on the roof of my van. Perhaps not completely out of the question if I'm honest with myself.

    When we arrived at Susie’s I asked straight out, “What are the different prices of all these different options. You see, we have Gnatalie to think of, but we’re limited financially. I know Veronica and Marie are more expensive. Maureen, you don’t want to sell, so she’s got to be the most, but how much is Petite?”

    “Well, I want to make this worthwhile for you, so I was thinking of making Petite less than half of what it would cost to get Veronica or Marie and throwing her son in for free.”

    “A two-fer?” Tom snickered looking at me as though all choice had disappeared. He’s the one who made me get two kittens in exchange for getting rid of Leo the turtle. Now I did have a dilemma. But I know in the end, the purchase price of an animal is not how you can judge it’s real cost. We walked over and looked at Petite.  She certainly had a sweet face. The kids fed her and watched her baby nurse.

 (Susie and Petite)

 (Petite, Henry & Phoebe)

 (Phoebe and Petite)

    After awhile we got in the car and started north. “So what are some Irish boy names?” Tom asked. This was the kiss of death. I didn’t think there was any turning back once Tom started naming the little guy.

    “How about Max because his mom is Petite?” Henry suggested.

    The boys and Phoebe started brainstorming. “What about Shamus?” Nick suggested.

    “I like Shamus.” Tom agreed.

    “Phinneas?”

    “Finnegan? Killian? I actually know a tough, cuddly Killian." I joined in remembering my little student Sadie Buchenau's adorable brother.

    “I know, Aiden,” Henry called out.

    “Aiden? That’s a little All My Children.” I noted.

    “So were Stuart, Jasper and Phoebe Wallingford.” Henry said and Phoebe laughed batting her eyelashes.

    “What do you think of Clancy?” I said thinking of Clancy the clown in the Deck of Old Maid Cards. I have about six of them since my sister used to put them in my Christmas stocking year after year.

    “I like Clancy,” Tom said “it sounds friendly and it’s Irish.”

    “Are we doing the right thing” I wondered aloud?

    “Gnatalie needs company that’s for sure. It’s just which one.” Nick said firmly.

    “Nick’s right Gnatalie’s sad.” Phoebe pleaded.

    “She is Mom and you know it.”

    “And remember Petite is going to be butchered if we don’t take her. Do you really want to separate her from her baby? What kind of monster would that make you?” Tom asked. “You’d ruin her life too.”

 (heads and tails? Petite and nameless irish boy)

September 27th Waste Not Want Not

 (Christina and Riley saunter past Franklin and Richard)

**WARNING - this post contains some graphic pictures)

It was another predictable Sunday of laundry, housework and barn cleaning. With the added hope, I’d have time to hop on the treadmill and try like crazy to catch up to Awesomez who has now lost fifteen flipping pounds. Of course, I’m proud of her and thrilled for her, but I can’t help feeling inept.

After my morning pot of coffee, chats with Pea, and my sister, I got sucked into the tale end of National Treasure Book of Secrets. How could I resist Nick’s sudden interest in Mount Vernon, Lincoln’s assassination or his questions about South Dakota? Obviously, I couldn’t, so I settled in with another cup of coffee and took advantage of an incidental learning situation. I’m an opportunist.

Finally, about 2:00PM we set out to the barn. Truth be known there wasn’t that much we had to do. Certainly we’d need to tend to the geese who “don’t go number one or number two, but a weird form of number three” according to Henry. But whatever you call it, goose poop is wet, messy and has to be dealt with on a regular basis.

We set to work. Once we’d cleaned everything out and Nick had brought a tractor load of shavings for Henry and me to shovel into place, we started talking about the chickens. As a group we decided this would be an ideal time to take the roosters we knew we were definitely going to get rid of and let them roam the barnyard. We didn’t want another overcrowding attack.

“But what about the turkeys? What if they attack?” Henry asked cautiously.

“Well, we’re here and we can deal with it, but frankly they are going to die. Someone is going to eat them. There isn’t much else to be done with a rooster. We have to accept that.” I explained.

 “Sucks to be a rooster,” Nick interjected.

“Seriously,” Henry agreed.

“I’ll never buy a straight run of chickens again. Mike and Donna just got chickens and they only have three roosters. Come on help me get Cluck-Cluck,” I asked setting down my pitchfork.

We went to the chicken run and tried to wrangle Cluck-Cluck who ran for his life. He seemed to instinctively know we had a different purpose than the normal cuddling. Perhaps it’s just that he’s getting older and his roosterness is kicking in. He’s usually docile with people despite being the most aggressive rooster we have. He and Boris bump chests and carry on flying at each other.

Cluck-Cluck went through the guillotine door to escape my grasp. Which meant I had to go around and inside. I figured I could close the guillotine door and trap he and Boris and a few others inside for easier capture.

I walked in the coop and screamed, “Oh MY GOD!”

“What? What is it?” Henry asked frantically as he came running in the door with Nick close behind him.

“It’s Boris look at him.”

“Oh, no, do you think it was Cluck-Cluck?” Henry asked.

“Yes, I think it was Cluck-Cluck.” I confirmed as I grabbed the villain and threw him out the door.

Boris’ left hind end was covered in blood. Fresh blood was dripping from his body. I thought of Toby’s words of caution. ‘The moment you see a drop of blood on a chicken you must remove them or the others will kill it.’

“We have to take him out of here. Henry pick-up Boris.”

“Where do I put him?”

“You can put him in the turkey pen for now.” I said distractedly. My mind was racing trying to figure out my next move. I could see the bird was in tremendous pain because he was barely moving. I knew he was bleeding and I had no way of stopping it. I knew too that I didn’t want to pay for a vet call on a Sunday with my limited funds.

(Boris injured in the turkey pen)

“What are we going to do?” Henry said sadly.

“Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think it makes any sense to take him to the vet and have them patch him up only to give him away for someone to eat him. Do you? I mean why should he have to endure all that? And it costs money.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, that seems stupid.” Nick agreed.

“And cruel really, but what are we going to do? Kill him? Mama!”

“Honey, I don’t know what else to do? It’s not right to let him suffer. We have no way of fixing him. We knew we weren’t keeping him.”

“How?” Henry asked again cringing.

“I guess with the hatchet. Nick can you go get Amy? Just tell her I need her to come up here.” I figured I’d need someone to hold the bird while I did the deed. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

Amy arrived. I showed her the bird and we discussed our options as we walked to the shop to look for the hatchet.

 I just spoke to Anna, the lady I told you about who raises heritage turkeys the other day.”

“Uh huh.” Amy acknowledged.

“and she said she hangs them upside down slits their jugular and let’s them drain out. I’m not up for that.”

“Uh no. I can do it. I can kill the bird if you can’t.”

“Really? I think I can too after all it’s the only humane thing to do.”

We couldn’t find the hatchet and wandered back to the woodpile.  Nick found it and handed it to me.

“I can do it.” He said seriously. “Really. You and Henry are too attached to it and I know its hurt. I can do it.” Nick said firmly.

“Amy and I are going to do it. I don’t think this is a job for you. I can do this.” I assured him. “I need to call Tom. He’s done this before and I haven’t. Maybe we can wikihow to butcher a chicken or there’s probably a youtube video.”

 

            I dialed Pea and brought him up to speed. “Wow, you know I used to do this with my dad when I was younger than Henry. Strange, it’s his birthday to day.”

“A strange tribute.”

“Yeah, OK get a chopping block like the one in the coop. And well, one of you has to hold the bird and the other one chops it. You have to bring the axe down as though you’re trying to split the block in half. Don’t aim just for the chicken. If you don’t do it in one cut…”

“Yeah, I know.”

            “You guys should get some branches and practice aiming and coming down. I’d do it if I were there. You can do it. I mean we got the chickens knowing we might eat them.” He suggested.

            “Yeah, I know,”

“What are you going to do with it? After.”

“Well, we think we should eat it. I mean it seems the only way to honor the bird. He was supposed to be someone’s dinner and I can’t imagine just throwing him in the trash.”

“I think that’s right, if you can do it.”

“Well, I didn’t think I could give my mother a shot when she was in chemo, but I did it. OK we’re going to practice,” I said and hung-up. I quickly relayed the information to Amy and then we went outside to find a chopping block. The boys knew where some good pieces of wood were near the compost pile. So we examined six or seven before selecting one.

            “Tom said to practice so we’re going to get a few branches and I’m going to see how I do.” A branch was brought over and WHAM! I severed it without trouble. I hoped I could do it, as easily when it came time, at least I knew I was capable.

(Wood went flying  when I took my first turn)

            “Can I try?” Henry asked. “I think I could do it.”

            “Sure you can practice, but Honey even if you CAN do it I don’t think you should. I’ll do it. I’m the mother.” I said.

(Henry practices)

            Nick went after Henry and split his branch easily. Then it was Amy’s turn. She missed the wood the first time and the second time the hatchet got stuck.

“You’re holding. I don’t have health insurance.(Amy tries to chop)

To be fair, her branch was much larger, so we all tried again while we talked about why we needed to do this.

“You know I can’t believe I’m ok with this, but I am strangely ok,” Henry declared. “I really think I could do it.”

“Well, you’re not going to do it.” Nick said protectively. “You can’t kill anything, and I don’t think you should either Denise. I’m almost sixteen. I can do this. Really. I want to do this.”

“Yeah, but Nick it isn’t just that, I don’t know if you really want to kill something.”

“It’s not for fun, it’s the only humane thing to do, Boris is suffering,” Nick said emphatically. “I’m the obvious choice.”

On the second round, I couldn’t make the cut, nor could Henry. Nick stepped up and slammed the hatchet through the wood with ease. “I should be the one,” he said looking at me.

“I’ll think about it.” I said realizing I just didn’t have the same upper body strength. I’m going to call Tom about what we do next. I just can’t get a good picture in my head about how this is going to go.”

“Yeah, what about that story where the chicken lived about fourteen months without a head.” Henry reminded us.

“That can’t happen on accident. Someone had to give it water and you know I just don’t want to think about that right now.” I replied walking toward the house with Amy.

“Pea? We practiced, but we have a few questions.”

“Who ever hold’s the legs has to have a good grip,” he instructed.

“Well, we thought we’d use a zip-tie, but how do you hold the head and not get your fingers chopped off?” I asked worrying about ending Amy’s paramedic career.

“No, no, no. You don’t hold the head. You hold the legs and take the chicken to one end of the block then you slowly pull it toward you stretching out the neck. The chicken will just stay there.”

“Really? Good thing we called for clarification. We’re nubies to this. Huh, um what about this chicken with its head cut off thing? Do they flop around like they say or is that just an old wives tale or just some of them?” I asked.

“No, it’s absolutely all of them. You need to get a 2’ x 3’ box with a lid and put the bird in there once it’s done.”

“OK. It needs a lid?”

“So it doesn’t fly out.”

“Fly out! Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

Right, we’ll look for a box.” And off Amy and I went in search of the death box.

“Seriously, I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Amy said.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do? Heck a week ago, if you’d asked me if I would have done this I’d have told you absolutely not, but here we are and we don’t have a choice. I guess this is real farm life.” We located an adequate box and went back to the chopping block.  “OK, now is everyone on the same page, we’re going to do this because it has to be done. Henry if you want to not be here, that’s fine, there’s no shame in that. Nick, I just don’t know what to say to you. Do you really want to do this to protect us, because I will do this, but I don’t want you to feel as though I don’t see you a man. I respect your reasons. I think it’s amazing that you’re trying to take care of us.”

“I really want to do this and I know I can. It’s important and it has to be done now.”

“Well, OK. In every religion you’re old enough to be a man and I know boys younger than Henry have been doing this forever. After all, this is where food comes from. Only in the last hundred years have we even had markets and even then they would have thought you were crazy to come in for a chicken. They didn’t have refrigeration. OK, Amy you’re holding? Let’s get him.”

We walked over and got Boris, who we were now referring to as The Chicken. Confirmed once again that he needed to go. He pecked Amy and drew blood. “He’s in a lot of pain to do that.” Amy reassured everyone.

 (continuously dripping blood)

 (Nick gets ready)

As Nick stood by the chicken the axe up in the air I called, “Nick you ok? You don’t have to do this? You can change your mind even at the last second, but if you do it. You have to do it. It would be cruel to do it part way.”

“I know. I’m good.”

“Through the wood, think of hitting through the wood, through the wood.” I repeated Tom’s words. And with that, he did it. Amy instantly put the bird in the box per Tom’s instructions, and closed the lid. We stood there as we heard the flopping of the body.

“Did the head come off?” I asked wanting t make sure it wasn’t a maimed bird inside.

“How would I know?” Nick asked. “My eyes were shut.”

“Well, look on the ground.” I instructed as Amy opened up the box.

“Is it dead?” I asked.

“Yeah, the head is attached, but just barely.” Amy reached for a stick and severed it.

 (Franklin, silence and Richard worrying about the upcoming holidays?)

The rest was surprisingly easy. We boiled water and did as Tom told us. “You want to dunk it in the boiling water for just a few seconds, then again. You don’t want to cook it.”

“Then you have to feather it, and clean everything out in the chest cavity.” I followed instructions. The boys played with the feet like puppets after I chopped them off. They were laughing and carrying on and I thought of The Lord of The Flies and Michael and Richard. Three different birds and three very different endings, I guess you never know where the road is going to lead. Ripping the meat off the bone, chopping off the legs, I thought I could have made it on Survivor. And once again I didn't get my time on treadmill

 (A chicken in every pot?)

 (Concentrating on getting dinner on the table)

The dinner wasn’t very good really; I mean it was just ok, a little chewy. I hadn’t really prepared for this and I probably overcooked it worrying I’d under cook it. We served Boris up with harvest grains and pineapple. There weren’t any tears or upsetness at the dinner table.

(Chicken and Harvest Grains-from Trader Joes™

“I said I could do it, but I secretly didn’t want you to pick me.” Henry admitted. “But I’m not upset at all to eat this. I thought I would be, but I think it would have been terrible to throw him away.”

“Dude! I knew you couldn't do it.” Nick said shoveling in a big bite.

"I could do it now, it all seems really different now, not how I expected. I thought it would be hard to eat him, but I'm really fine with it."

“You know, I wouldn’t eat a pet, but if one of the cows broke their leg, I would butcher that meat. I mean I’d have it done. I couldn’t waste 700 pound of meat. I can’t believe how I’ve changed. I was horrified Maryruth could eat her cattle and here I am. Never say never.”

“We’re not going to eat Socrates!”

“No of course not, and I’m sorry this isn’t the greatest I just was worried about getting everything done, I didn’t concentrate on making everything tasty.”

“Heck, we can do another one and Tom can barbecue it.” Nick said. “I’ve got experience, we don’t need to give all that food away.”

“Really? You’re that OK with it? You’d do it again?” I marveled.

“Yeah, and it really didn’t take as much strength as I thought. I just thought about what you said Tom said ‘through the wood’ and I did it.”

“Cluck-Cluck’s next” Amy said.

“Amy! Cluck-Cluck? I know if I were a chicken I’d think he was hot!” I love Amy. “But he’s a jerk and has to go.”

After dinner while I was deciding if the hatchet was a top shelf dishwasher item like a knife, Nick sat at the counter doing his English homework.

 

“I have to do a proverb I can relate to,” he explained.

“OK, read them.”  He read about five and then stopped.

“Here’s one. I can write about today.”

“What is it?”

“Waste not want not.”  Ahh connections to literature.

(I decided it was a top shelf item)

 

September 16 The Sweet Life

 (A big yawn -Miracle and Sir Edward refuse to sleep in the barn, they're out all night on alert-and apparently not sleeping well) 

Mike and Donna made their way up to our place with a new bee suit in hand for our newest beekeeper, Nick. “We aren’t going to be out done by June!” Donna smirked.

“What?” I was confused.

“Oh don’t you know? June offered Nick a hundred dollars if he gets good grades this semester. We thought we’d jump on “Get Nick Motivated Bandwagon.”

             Nick thanked Mike and Donna and eagerly tried on his suit. It was a dry sunny afternoon but not too hot for bee suits. A good time to tend bees, they’re in a good mood on warm days and awfully grumpy in the rain and clouds.

            In the state of Washington a high school student must complete a community-based, “Culminating Project” in order to graduate. They are required have a community adviser and do about thirty hours of service and learning within their chosen topic. In their junior year students write a research paper during English classes and by their senior year they are supposed to be prepared to give a twenty-minute presentation. Surprise, surprise, Nick has decided to do bees and Mike will be acting his adviser.

            Mike, Henry and Nick charged up the hill. Well Nick and Henry charged, Mike fresh from his last chemo treatment moseyed up the hill. Their mission was to collect honey and start the preparation for winter. Our honey is not the bee’s honey. The bees keep all the honey in the lower hive boxes.

(Nick examining a hive frame- one hive must have killed the queen - the one we replaced a couple of months ago -(not Henry's) was completely gone - sort of like the lost colony of Roanoke - only there wasn't a note - exactly- We think they went native and have joined other hives because there was no dead larvae)

    A bee is so multi-purpose it’s not surprising they're women. In they're own way, they bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. They can flap their wings to keep cool in the summer and then they flap again to keep warm in the winter. They do not hibernate; rather they live in their dark humming world off their stores. And by some miracle they can live twice as long as your average bee.

After taking our small share, we put sugar-water out for them once again so they can easily continue their work despite the decline in foliage.

            The next order of business is to treat the bees for mites. This can be done a couple of ways. One is to sprinkle the bees with powdered sugar. The mites can’t stick to it and they fall off. Another is the treatment Mike’s chose. It’s put on the top of the hive like a pollen patty. In a few weeks we will insulate the hives to help the bees survive the cold.

 (Mite treatment)

(Mike and Henry treat a hive)

 (Nick uses a hive tool)

(Mike - Community Advisor- advising)

(Mike displaying a honey filled frame)

 (Honey is the white covered section- it is capped off with wax)

            “You know,” Mike, said to Henry as he was helping him take off his premier super of honey, “Look, your honey is blackberry honey.”

            “How do you know?” I inquired from the bee whisperer.

            “Ohmygoshthatisssooogooood!!” Henry said dragging his finger through the honeycomb. “Dude you’ve got to try this!!”

            “Look at it, it’s clear like water. It’s beautiful and will taste better than fireweed honey.”

            “Nick drinks tea just so he can put honey in it” I informed Donna as Nick who looked a little like Winnie the Pooh, started licking his honey covered fingers.

            “It is lovely honey Henry,” Donna agreed. “Your first batch. We should keep this special.”

            After all the work was done, the tangled bees were removed from my hair, the bee stings were tended to we adjourned to the kitchen. Nick and Henry had both logged about three hours in the field. Henry as it happens also has a social action project this year. Darn Washington and all this giving to others stuff.

            “I should have brought a smoker,” Mike lamented.

            “Henry really wants a part of the proceeds to Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey to go to research, so I’ve been looking into a few different places.” I said, “But Mike I know you know a lot of these people, why don’t you take a look at the list.”

            “Well, the one thing you have to understand is that most research is done by pharmaceutical companies and pharmaceutical companies want to treat the problem, but they don’t want to treat the cause of the problem. You see, when DDT was banned, it was replaced in many crops with Imidacloraphid, It's made by Bayer in the Netherlands. A pesticide that isn’t sprayed on the crop it is actually inside the plant. This way pests won’t ruin our food crops. At a certain rate it didn’t kill the bees, but it does cause a kind of bee Alzheimer’s. The bees forget where to go and what to do, hence the worldwide colony collapse disorder, or so many beekeepers around the world believe. The problem is we’re eating the same foods the bees are and if the bees are getting Alzheimer’s what’s it doing to us? The big pharmaceutical companies don’t want to answer that question.”

            “And we’re eating the honey they’re producing,” Donna added seriously.

            “Sure we are and Alzheimer’s is dramatically on the rise” Mike continued.

            “Our honey doesn’t have any of that!” Henry said. “It’s pure and clean.            “

            “You bet your sweet ass!” Mike said.

            “I feel like I was in the middle of the China Syndrome or All The President’s Men.  I suppose they figure they’d lose the crops if it weren’t for this? And so long-term we all pay the price.”

            “Then again who’ll know?” Henry adding his gallows humor.

(pear tree on the way home)

            “Well, I’ve always hesitated to spend the extra money it costs to buy organic produce, I mean I buy organic carrots because I can immediately taste a funny after taste if I don’t, but it can be almost ten dollars for a bunch of bananas sometimes which is a bit steep for my budget, but now organic has a taken a whole new significance.”

            “How much honey do you think is in the super?” Henry asked.

            “About 50 lbs.” Mike figured.

            “Wow all those thousands and thousands and thousands of bees. When you think about it, that’s not really that much honey.” Henry figured.

            “Well one bee doesn’t really make more than a spoonful of honey in its lifetime.” Mike pointed out.

            “Every time I spill even a tiny bit of honey now, I feel guilty that it’s a bee’s life’s work.” Donna added.

           

 

           

           

 

 

September 14 Poor Richard

September 13 Nothing Much

 (Ron Johnson's own farmville)

I’d been letting the cows out into the open pasture where there has been plenty to eat all summer, but I’m nervous about Gnatalie roaming around and fall approaching the enclosed pasture is getting thin. The hay for the winter is on order, but Ron Johnson, my supplier has dedicated his trucks to delivering corn for the next couple of weeks. He said if I needed a bale before then I could certainly come down to Clear Lake and get one. One round bale should last at least two weeks, so Amy and I went to retrieve one in her truck. It’s a truck, but just barely. It’s what you might call a girl truck, but “Gunner Obama Carnahan” stood up to the test quite admirably. He’s been getting quite a workout lately what with swerving off the road to avoid deer and smashing through gates.

(Loading up)

(Amy and Gunner proudly haul the hay)

When we got back home the boys were awake. They got the tractor and together we unloaded the 500lb green marshmallow, killed poisonous arachnid hitchhikers and unwrapped our bundle. All the while Abe and Andy mooed relentlessly at the sight of lunch.  Gnatalie was a bit confused by the events, but stood by curious as ever wondering where she fit in. The moment the hay was in place and exposed the big boys went at it. Sadly, each time Gnatalie went up to eat they pushed her away. I know she’ll get her fill because they can’t stand there and guard the food, but we all felt terrible she’s been ostracized. We thought they’d embrace her not just begrudgingly tolerate her.

 (We unload)

 (Andy happily eats -Rachel- momentarily considers a snack)

“She has no friends,” Nick lamented. “She needs a friend, the goats don’t let her hang out with them, the sheep run from her and the boys push her away. Miracle chases her and Edward could care less.” He said commiserating with her as he scratched her forehead and kissed her.

“Yeah Mama, I think she needs a friend.” Henry chimed in. They were preaching to the choir, but I said nothing.

“Of course she needs a friend.” Amy agreed not being at all helpful.

(Gnatalie sniffs)

That task complete we started cleaning the barn. No wonder farmers had so many kids I thought wistfully, until I considered the farm mom position and the exponential amount of laundry required. I picked up a pitchfork and didn’t complain. Cleaning the barn is really fun. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You never want to start, but once you do, there are wonderful talks, laughs and songs. Everyone has his or her task, a shovel, a pitchfork or a tractor. This time, Amy made fun of Nicky-new-guy-on-the-block, taunting him for being “afraid of a little poop.”

 (Nick and Henry working hard)

 (Nick and Gnatalie take a walk)

 (Nick taking a tractor break)

(Mildred, Angus, Sheryl and Apache's hind end)

 (Curious turkeys - Franklin, Silence DoGood and Richard - all alias' for Benjamin)

(My Llloyd loves me again -preening)

 (Just before Gnatalie pinned Luther- poor Lu he just can't get a break)

 (Harpo aka Quackless, Lucille & Benny - the Cayugas)  

 (Bruno pounces through the wood shavings which are used as the bedding for all the barn animals)

We did more than half and broke for lunch. It was another hot day, but we sat in the cool shade of a tree on the lawn and enjoyed our sodas before putting the rest of the wood shavings in the goat section.

Our chores mostly finished, we decided it was time to sex the chickens they’re over two months old now. According to the books a two-month-old male is a broiler then a fryer and frankly a rooster is a male chicken over five-months-old. Roosters can be a vicious lot and we didn’t want another gory chicken attack. Losing Michael was enough. The farm rule of thumb appears to be one rooster to approximately eight hens.

Determining hens from roosters seemed like a simple task on the outset. After all every kindergartner knows what a rooster looks like but then again they’re taught sheep say “baaa” and that’s clearly wrong.

Cluck-Cluck crows and carries on as expected. He is clearly a rooster.  However, there are others that don’t at least not yet. Hens should be the plump ones without the combs and the waddle handing down. Or so we thought. It seems some breeds have a waddle and some breeds don’t get a comb at all. Sometimes females have both combs and waddles.

We began by putting all the chickens in the outside chicken run. Then one by one we assessed, scrutinized, photographed and determined rooster or hen. The boys went inside to boy’s town, not the place you want to end up.

After all was said and done we thought or think we have eleven roosters, but we’re just not sure. We’d like to keep three males, one of each breed so we could have chicks one day. The rest have to be terminated I guess. There isn’t much room in anyone’s barnyard for troublemakers. I’ll never order a straight run again. I’ll only go to the hatcheries that offer a pre-sexed selection, because this whole process is nasty. I wish I didn’t care, but I don’t want to ring their necks, and Tom has informed me he won’t. So now I have to do something to cull the flock. “I know I’ll put them on Craigslist under free stuff. Maybe someone will want them. I’m sure they’re good eatinin,” I said ruefully.

Now who to keep? After much discussion we think we’re getting rid of Cluck-Cluck because he’s so aggressive and keeping Julius Caesar over the other nameless Red Dorking, we’re going to have to see how their combs develop. In the Russian Orloff category we’re thinking of keeping Chestnut over Boris Orloff. In the Golden Hamburg slot we’re pretty clear we want to keep Armstrong over Speedy. We’ll see we want prime specimens and calm gentle birds.

 (Red Dorkings - Julius and No-name)

 (Girl? or Boy?)

 (Amy and some unidentified Golden Hamburgs)

 (Mrs. Cluck-Cluck)

 (Nick and Boris - who is -going to be someone's dinner - gentle with people, but aggressive toward other males)

(they're everywhere)

(Nick, Henry and Chestnut)

The warm sunny day begged for a trip to the pond and another visit with Gnatalie, plus a little chat with Sir Edward and Miracle who were grazing down by the dry creek bed. While we made our way over we realized we were being followed. Some people have a dog who tags a long behind them and some people have four dogs and a nosy-body goat like Rachel. Funny, she never used to leave the goatherd, but I think her daughter, Christina, has usurped her crown. Now the Queen Mum Rachel wanders around a bit by herself.

Suddenly a rock tossing-tossing challenge was issued. The goal was to toss rocks into Poncho and Lefty’s old practice tire the they used to haul around behind them when they were doing oxen stuff. Now it just sits in the pasture as impromptu seating and a mosquito larvae breeding ground. As I hadn’t received my softball throwing lessons from Awesomez yet I bowed out of the competition. Amy, though determined, didn’t have a chance. Henry won easily over Nick. A lazy kind of day, we made our way to the pond and looked at muddy animal tracks.

(Amy and Miracle kiss)

 

(Miracle wants to give a little smooch)

(Miracle mugs for the camera)

 (Amy tossses)

 (Nick tosses)

 (Nick and Henry checking out all the new life in the pond)

 (Henry messing around)

(Swimmy)

(Nick and a froglet)

(Nick takes a stick and tickles Rachel's tail - he's found a way to make her wiggle it.)

 (bear scat?)

 (closer examination of contents)

(Rachel follows)

On the way back, Nick found scat on the rocky path.  Fascinated, we took a good close look trying to determine what animal was traipsing around at night so close to the house.  Primarily made up of apple remnants we’re pretty sure it was a black bear who’d been raiding our trees.

This prompted the idea of picking apples and pressing cider. The cider press was wheeled out of the family room and put into position next to the wine rack in the kitchen. The boys went out and excitedly began gathering baskets full of apples. Henry cut while Nick turned the crank. Then Nick cut while Henry turned the crank. Apple chunks sunk out of sight.  The press was tightened with both boys using a 2 x4 for leverage. As the cloudy golden liquid with the sweet tangy taste filled the bucket, both boys gulped it down until they couldn’t drink another drop.

 (Henry chops apples)

 (Nick pressing cider)

 (Vivian watches)

After that, we did some laundry, the boys shot paintball guns for awhile, we put the animals away and Amy came over for our Sunday night family dinner.

We all sat down for dinner at the dining room table. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said, as I portioned out a Weight Watcher serving of spicy meatloaf for myself while “Deli is a real problem. Sure she’s sweet and lovable when she’s in the house, but she lures the other dogs off on her jaunts and then I have to hear her killing things in the middle of the night. The other night, she opened the door, let herself out and went out on a run. She was slaughtering some poor animal in the hills behind the barn. She’s like a serial killer, she doesn’t kill to eat, she just kills and kills and kills. Even a cougar will pass when it’s not hungry, but not Deli. When I heard the commotion I went outside and got in the van to see if I could stop it, the screams of the dying animal were horrible, but I didn’t have any effect. I can’t let the turkeys out if she’s on the loose or the ducks. I can’t contain her and I’m at my wits end. I am ready again to give her away.”

“Umm, I promised Andrew I wouldn’t get anymore animals,” Amy said softly, “but how about if I foster her?” Amy unexpectedly suggested. She can’t get out of the dog run by my apartment, and she loves coming over there. I think she still thinks it’s her house. I can take her on walks and.. .”

“Sounds great! What a fabulous idea!” I said cutting her off. I was so happy I couldn’t believe it.  She’d more than redeemed herself from the Gnatalie comment. “I can give you her dog bed, and supply the food. She can leave tonight. She’ll be excellent company and protection for you. It would be such a load off my mind you have no idea.”

I packed up a little package and a wiggly Deli walked over to Amy’s on a leash. Deli though a hound really prefers being an only dog. She’s shy and won’t ask for attention like the other pooches. Irish assaults you with his paw when he feels left out. Vivian bowls you over, Bruno races around leaping in the air and Luther bays, cries, whines or sits on your feet, but Deli sits in the distance patiently waiting. I watched them walk over and thought my father would be pleased.

The boys and I ended our weekend by settling into watch “Desperate Crossing The Untold Story of the Mayflower”.  Nick has American History this year and I’m going to pack in the learning one way or another. We’d just seen a whole segment on European prisons in the 1600s when the phone rang. It was for Nick. I could hear him giving the requisite teenage answers to questions about how he was.

“Fine…Yeah…It’s better…No…This weekend? Uhhh, nothing much,” he said absently.

“Nothing much? Nothing much?” I beat him with a pillow.

 (Emmet disagrees with Nick)

September 11th All My Children

    

(Franklin, Richard and Silence- say good morning)

All I wanted to do was sleep after I took the boys to school. I figured I’d earned a little rest, the barn could wait, the honey business could wait, the laundry could definitely wait, but Lisa called. Phoebe was sick again and Lisa was working at the Cat Clinic. “I know you’ve been crazy busy, but could you do some of your work here?” She asked. She needed me and how could I turn down the Pheeb?

    “Sure. No problem.” I said, so Luther, Vivian and Bruno who’d already been promised a ride in the car came along. On the way, Amy called. "I have bad news."

    "What? Are you OK?"

    "I'm OK, but the front gate isn't. I thought my car was in neutral, but apparently it wasn't and I smashed through the gate. Do you hate me?

    "Huh, well at least your ok. Is it standing?"

    "It's standing, I wired it up with Andrew."

    "That's good, at least the animals won't go into the road." I said. Thinking one step forward, two steps back.

"I'l pay for it to be fixed." 

    "That's sweet, but I just don't know who we could get to come all they way out to do it. But we can think about that tomorrow. At least your ok and it's standing."

    "So much for the quiet tenant who keeps to herself. First the deer and the truck in the ditch and now this," she laughed nervously. I thought back to turning twenty and remembered plenty of kooky mishaps, none of them Amy would make, she's too mature. 

 (oops)

 (Bruno and Charlie play,play,play)

    By the time I got to Lisa's I needed another strong pot of coffee.Phoebe was no problem, she never is. She was riveted to Erica Kane and drank all the apple juice I gave her. “How’s school?”  I asked trying to avoid paying my bills.

    “I don’t know, I have barely even been to the fourth grade yet I’m sick all the time. My tonsils are pretty yucky,” she said ruefully. “How’s Nick doing?”

    “He’s having a hard time, lonely for his friends in Mammoth. He doesn’t really talk to anyone except some kid in World Lit that sits next to him.”

    “That’s too bad,” she said sleepily as she and Luther settled in for yet another nap. Since she didn’t need me, I started looking into honey label options for Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey™ and ordered sample jars for Tom to work with.

 (Phoebe & Luther resting)

    Lisa came home and we discussed her barn plans, horses and how much my wood shavings cost for my winter barn bedding. We were deep into counting our Weight Watcher points when I got a text from Nick. We don’t actually speak on the phone I just get messages. “Hi. Can I spend the night at my friend’s house?”

    “You have a friend? Who?” Was my first response, after that, I went from a quick NO to a definite maybe. I talked to Lisa about my fears and the disaster Henry went through last year staying at the crack-house-with-that-kid-who-had-the-brother-who-beat-his-mother. “Yet I don’t want to say no. I mean he was invited somewhere. He’s got a friend. There might be other kids. I don’t want to blow it for him. What should I do? After all Awesomez, was trusting me and I wasn’t about to drop the ball.”

    “I know I’ll call Diane. She still has connections and we can probably do a little checking.” She picked up the phone and sprang into Nancy Drew action tapping into the Bellingham parental equivalent of the FBI. “The kid doesn’t have any negative stuff attached to his name as far as I can tell,” she summarized after her third source reported in. After I spoke to both the kid and his father asking a myriad of questions, I let him go. As happy as I was for Nick, I was worried as I drove to pick-up Henry that he would feel ditched. He and Nick had had plans all week to go to Open Gym after Henry’s workout. So when Quinn strode up to the car I asked her if she wanted to spend the night. She and Henry always have a good time together. “Sure I want to see Gnatalie anyway, besides Phoebe’s sick.”

    We’d just hung-up from delivering the news of Nick’s social coup to Awesomez when the phone rang. I was winding my way along the rocky coast and wasn’t about to pick up the call, which isn’t a problem with a teenage girl in the car.

    “It’s Zach, the kid whose house Nick is at. He says Nick can’t spend the night and you’ve got to pick him up.”

    “What?”

    “He says he ‘forgot’ about some previous plans and Nick has to go home.” Quinn said skeptically.

    “Oh, no. I hope nothing happened.”

    “I feel bad for Nick. I hope he’s OK, that’s really terrible. That kid’s a jerk.” Quinn said in a moment of compassion. Surprising. She and Nick seem to have a “Moonlighting”, Bruce Willis/Cybil Shepherd-type relationship bantering all the time, but without him here she felt his pain.

    “Poor Nick, that’s cheap that’s gotta hurt,” Henry moaned.

    “Call your mom, she’s going to have to pick him up. I’m way too far away.”

    Not too long later, Lisa, Phoebe and Nick showed up at the gym. “Hey, I brought our teenager. Who knew we’d be sharing a kid,” she said with a laugh.

    “Is he ok?” I asked her after Nick went to change his clothes for Open Gym.

    “Yeah Nick confirmed that Zach’s previous plan thing was legit, he heard the girl call Zach and remind him about her birthday party.

    “That made us feel a lot better,” Phoebe chimed in.

    “Awesomez called. She feels terrible you had to go so out of your way,” I told her.

    “I don’t know why she’s worried. We’re not new to kids, we realized we weren’t getting a hamster.”

 (Nick tumbles)

 (Quinn straddle jumps)

 (Nick in action)

 (Nick)

 (Quinn, Nick and Henry on a tear)

(Amy's beautiful and thoughtful "please forgive me" flowers)

September 10th Tough Love

 (Cluck-Cluck - named by Amy, a Red Dorking)

    The alarm rang at 3:45AM, just a few minutes before “Cluck-Cluck” sounded off.

    “Think of it like summer camp,” I suggested as I set a hot cup of coffee in front of Awesomez. “You know kids on the East Coast often go away for three months at a time. He isn’t really moving away he’s just at Farm School.” I tried to lighten the mood of the dark foggy morning Awesomez left her son with me. 

    Her bags were packed and she’d cried a Kleenex box full of tears the night before, she’d worried about him making friends, his grades and how she was going to bare getting on the plane without him. She thought about how quiet it would be at home, but instantly thought of Lindsey, “She’s never ever quiet.”

    “She’ll come through and pick up the slack,” I assured her.

(Lindsey also known as "Little" at home waiting for the Momma to return)

    “Yeah, this will give us time to spend together,” she said looking on the bright side.

    We piled in the car for the airport with plenty of time. It was a quiet moment as I watched my friend say good-bye to her son. I was humbled by her faith in me. I was moved by the looks of anguish and loss that passed between them as they said good-bye. “Think of it like a summer camp…”

(Painful good-bye)

    I couldn’t believe I was going to drive away. But I did.

    From there I dropped the boys at school hopeful the day would go well. I went to work exhausted I could only imagine how the boys felt sitting in class.  On the way back to pick them up from school, I got a text from Nick. “Ate lunch – ALONE AGAIN”. I was bummed, I wanted a Disney ending, but I knew that isn’t how it really works. It’s hard being the new kid.

    Henry hopped out at gymnastics and I took Nick over to the Common Ground coffee place to do homework and make progress on the honey business. Nick worked on his history sentences while I prepared my food processor application for the state. To my dismay, my application was beginning to look a little like a term paper what with sanitation schedules, well classifications and kitchen diagrams. I was buried deep in a nutrition label information and font size requirements when Nick said he needed help. So we went over how a few things clarifying why the teacher was using different sources and multiple perspectives.

    I went back to work and Nick hunkered down or so I thought. In just a few moments I heard, “I’m done.”

    “How is that possible? There are a lot of questions.” I pointed out reasonably.

“I don’t know I’m just done.” He said eyeing me. I felt as though we were two gunslingers sizing each other up in the middle of town at high noon. He didn’t know whom he was up against.

    “Let me see.” I said hearing Clint Eastwood music in my head. He turned the paper toward me and looked away. For good reason, the words he’d strung together while having a period at the end were not sentences. They did not restate the question, they did not give any details and there was not one ounce of thought involved. I took the pencil and began erasing.

    “Hey, hey, hey!” He clamored. “What are you doing?”

    “These aren’t good enough. Did you see the instructions? You have to re-do them and this time you need to write full sentences and explain your answer. If I was the teacher and I saw that I’d give you a 2 a ‘D’, these are horrible. You just told me a few minutes ago what this one should have said, just write it down. You can do this. You can’t just move here and do the same stuff you used to do.” I wrote down a sample answer as an example.

    “But that’s so much work. You want me to write a book!”  He whined.

“It’s not as much work as doing it over and over and over and over.” I said with a teacher look as I took the ipod away. He looked at me and for a moment I wondered if he regretted being here. Was I being too harsh? Pushing him too much for the first day? I thought of other students, Johnny, Trevor and Lucky and thought NO. Every teacher knows, you have to be tough the first weeks of school then you can lighten up once the standards are set, understood and met. We sat in silence knowing the first one who blinked would lose.

    He picked up the pencil, pulled the paper toward him and said, “Do I need to say everything?” I smiled. Victory was mine.

(Rome wasn't built in a day)

    We closed the place finishing up Nick’s sentences and gathered Henry at the end of his practice.

    “How was your homework?” Henry asked getting in the van. “You guys were gone the whole three hours.”

    “Nick had sentences.” I said quietly.

    “I didn’t restate the question.” Nick added sullenly.

    “Ohhhhh. Yeah, she doesn’t like that.” Henry commiserated. “You get used to it.”

September 9th Caught Red Handed

    The first day of school ran like clockwork. Lunches were made with names properly marked in Sharpie™, clothes were selected, and breakfasts were hot. Everyone was up early and eager, showered and clean. Well almost. Nick and Henry for some reason the night before decided it would be a great idea to mix clay and red food coloring with their hands in order to further their ongoing claymation project.

    “Which of you two chuckleheads thought this was going to be a good idea?” I had asked in one of my more exasperated tones.

    “It said food coloring, we thought it just colored food.” Henry said stupidly standing in the hallway with scarlet fingers.

    “And you thought clay was food?” Awesomez called incredulously from the other room as she did yet another load of my laundry. “So let me get this straight Nicky you’re going to go to your first day at your new high school with red hands?”

    “Yeah,” he said holding up his hands,“ they’re going to say ‘Hey that kid with the red hands is bad ass.” Nick shrugged as he went to go soak his hands. Again.

    The boys scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. They alternated between putting thick greasy hand cream on trying to pull the color out and scrubbing. They used everything from mild soap to Ajax and Soft Scrub™ with bleach.  Eventually, their hands looked rose.

    “I’m not sure it’s an improvement.” I whispered to Awesomez.  Eventually, they did get their hands close to normal, except for their nails; which were a soft petal pink.

    The first day of school went pretty well, Nick liked most of his teachers and only got lost on the way to math. Henry got different teachers than Quinn had last year and therefore had a lot to report. Quinn missed Lauren and Phoebe became an upper grader.

    “A couple of kids said ‘Dude did you paint your nails?” Nick relayed.

    “What did you say?” I asked.

    “Nothing."

    "Nothing?" Quinn repeated.

     I didn’t speak all day except to say ‘Here” Nick said somewhat defeated. “I ate lunch alone.”

    “You’re going to have to put yourself out there son. Remember it’s only the first day. It'll get better.” Awesomez encouraged.

(Quinn trying to avoid the paparazzi)

(Henry, Quinnderella and Nicky - Picky on the first day of school - Phoebe is still in school)

    That night, we all tumbled into bed exhausted knowing the next day would be a repeat of: up at 5:15 AM, showers, coffee, dogs fed, cats fed, barn animals let out and fed, backpacks packed, lunches gathered and out the door by 6:30AM. So when I woke Awesomez up in the middle of the night to venture out into the rain to find my missing donkey, she was less than coherent.

    “Lis, Lis,” I said shaking her out of a sound sleep.

    “What?” She finally responded in a groggy voice.

    “I’m going outside. I don’t see Miracle. She and Sir Edward didn’t go in the barn with the rest of the animals.”

    “So, they’ve done that before and been OK.” She replied without opening her eyes.

    “I know, but she wouldn’t leave Sir Edward. They’re like butter and toast and he’s right by the barn door, but she’s nowhere in sight. I’d hate to have another tragedy so soon after Michael. Didn’t you hear that coyote pack?”

    “No. I was sleeping. Don’t you sleep?” She said looking at me with only one eye open.

    “Yes, I sleep, well, sort of, but I couldn’t when I heard the pack. Deli’s out too, she didn’t come back. I’m going out and I’ll take the van out if I have to go down in the pasture.”

    “You want me to come?” She said as it was dawning on her.

    “No. It’s OK.” I said meekly. “You’re sleeping.”

     “OK. I’m coming. Let me get my shoes on.” She said reluctantly. “Seriously, I think you woke me out of the soundest sleep I’ve ever had and I can’t believe we’re going outside in the rain to look for a donkey while a coyote pack prowls around. What time is it anyway?”

    “It’ll be an adventure?”

    “You’re an adventure. There’s always something.” She muttered.

    “Tom says it keeps things interesting.” I said to keep her moving forward.

    “But he’s sleeping,” she countered.

    “True. Miracle!!! Miracle where are your girl?” I called as I walked out into the cold barnyard. The shadows seemed too close in around us. I could see Sir Edward standing on three legs with his back hind leg resting. I figured he wasn’t nervous or tense, which seemed a good sign to me. Cautiously, we walked closer looking around for both Miracle and predators. “There she is!” I said relieved. “She’s laying down in the shadow of the barn. I guess Edward was standing guard so she could rest.”

(Miracle resting in the shadows)

    “Well good. I wasn’t looking forward to trolling the pasture. Now you can relax. Do you want to put them in so they can both rest since we’re here? It’s drizzling.” Awesomez pointed out.

    “I think that’s a good idea, then I won’t worry,” I agreed grabbing a lead rope and hooking it to Sir Edward’s blue halter. He went easily through the gate and into the barn. Miracle followed.

    Just as we got our equine snug as bugs in the barn, the clouds opened up. “Well, that was lucky” I said happily. “I’m glad they’re in now I can sleep.”

    “I can’t tell you how happy I am you can sleep.” Lisa said dripping with sarcasm as her head turned toward a rustling in the bushes just outside the fence.

    “What was that?” I said frozen.

    “I don’t know, what should we do?” Awesomez said reaching for a shovel.

    “Let’s go in the barn.” I instructed.  Slowly, I began moving toward the door when Deli came loping out of the brush tail a wagging.

    “Deli, you scared us!” Awesomez chided.

    The next morning as the alarm assaulted, I turned it off. When we finally got up, we were late. The kids left without their sweatshirts, grabbed a bowl of cold cereal to eat on the way and we gave them money to buy lunch. School is back in.

September 5th The Remains Of The Day

 (Irish and Bruno snuggle)

When the alarm rang, I was already awake. The house was dark and everyone was still asleep except for Irish who wagged his tail and Bruno who gave me a groggy look as I went down the stairs.  I poured a cup of coffee and dressed. I couldn’t just throw on coveralls, because I had to be at work at 10:30AM.

I peeked into Henry’s room. He was sharing his bed with Luther, Vivian and Emmet. I shook him gently.

“Henry, I’m going to the vet. Do you want to come with me?”

“What?” He said through a veil of sleep.

“I just want you to know it’s possible I might not come back with either Michael or the turkey. We just don’t know. I wanted you to realize that in case you want to come.” I explained in a whisper not wanting to disturb Lu.

“No. I think I’m going to stay here. Is that OK?”

“Sure it is.” I said walking out. I had to get going I had a lot to do.

I went to the barn fed all the animals, filled their waters and looked until I found a carrier for Michael up in the hayloft. I transferred him into it. I put in a warm towel and loaded him in the van on the seat next to the turkey carrier. I walked around to the other side and got up the nerve to check on the turkey. He lifted his head; he was still ali