As The Butter Churns

November 9th Nothing Beats A Full House

(Little Sam Horner, 5, and Irish)

    Laughter and shrieking filled the house as Team Donaldson arrived with old neighbors: Liza (6th grade), Audrey (3rd grade) and Sam Horner (kindergarten). Over the years our families have spent a lot of time together for birthday parties, sleepovers, Thanksgivings, Christmases and many Easter egg hunts. Of course, there were hugs and kisses all around. Audrey got a little more than she bargained for when Vivian Irene Rottweiler planted a big wet one right on her cheek. A moment later Irish rushed past Sam, knocking him flat on the wood floor as he went by. Sam went down like one of those plastic clowns you punch, which hits the ground and immediately bounces back up.

    “Are you ok?” Lisa asked.

    “Yeah,” Sam replied, non-plussed, as he got up and resumed looking at the jukebox.

    Despite the rain, it wasn’t long before children were darting everywhere. To the barn to meet the goats! To the side yard to see the geese! To the pasture to feed the cows! Then to the pond on the tractor! Nervous about predators, I wanted them to take an air horn with them to make noise, but I laughed as they reached the pond and I could still hear every word they yelled to each other. They were safe.
(Quinn, Sam, Phoebe and Liza in the bucket. Henry is driving and Audrey is screaming)

    While they were gone, we went about our plan to set up the Cider Press. We'd gotten it for Fort Flashback. It was a common colonial item and we thought kids would enjoy seeing how cider was made. Cider is produced by crushing apples. It is 90% apple - if it contains more water than that it is called apple juice.

    So Lisa, Alexis, Chris and I picked apples and began wiping down the Cider Press. Lisa and Alexis chopped the apples, making sure they were worm-free. (Lisa and Alexis -  chopping machines)

    When all the kids returned, they shoved handfuls of apple chunks into the grinder until the bucket was full. Audrey was in charge of making sure the apples were firmly packed down. After all, we wanted as much cider as possible. Wayne wandered in from watching football and sat down. Contentedly, I looked around. It was if everything was in slow motion, girls giggling, men talking, boys shoving, dogs barking, football blaring. Lisa was chopping, and it was perfect. It’s moments like these that are magical. Ordinary moments.

     It was then that my father entered the room. No, he isn’t back from Paris, but he was channeling across the continents through his grandson. It seems Sam asked Henry whose cool horn was by the music stand - and chaos ensued. Henry walked into the room and began practicing a barely recognizable version of “Jingle Bells” he’s quite proud of. I thought Lisa was going to have a breakdown.
(Wayne & Chris look on as Henry carries on a family tradition and Sam cuts up)

    “Make him stop. He’s just like his grandfather, playing that thing in the middle of enough noise. I just can’t take the playing.”
(Quinn watching Henry add to the chaos. Phoebe working hard)

   “And he’s not as good as his grandfather,” Wayne interjected.

   “That’s not it,” Lisa said. “It’s not how he’s playing; it’s that he’s playing.”

   “Don’t discourage him from playing. Ever,” Chris shushed her. 

   "Ever?"

   "Ever," Chris repeated.

" (Liza, Phoebe and Audrey cider pressing)
  (Henry crushes some apples and Sam watches, with Chris's assistance, as Liza fills the grinder)
(Sam gives it a try)
(Liza working for the cider) (Cider at last!)

   When the pressing began, everyone took turns but, as the press squeezed downward, the turning got increasingly difficult until only The Amazing Chris Donaldson remained.

   When everyone had their fill of freshly pressed cider, the games continued. Jedi Knights dueled in the yard and climbed ropes to show their strength
. (Jedi Knights - Henry and Sam)

   “Sam, if you can climb this rope then you can be a Jedi Knight.”

   “It’s too hard,” Sam complained.
(Sam struggles)

    “If it were easy, everyone would be a Jedi,” Henry explained reasonably. Sam looked around and found a step stool. Stood on it. Jumped up. And grabbed the rope. Gleeful at having bested the master.
(Sam and his step stool)
   “That’s cheating,” Henry accused.

   “That’s right,” Sam said.

   Meanwhile, back in the kitchen Quinn struggled to interpret the Rice Crispy Treat recipe as the other girls hounded her to hurry up. After spaghetti and meatballs the girls settled in for the movie “Harry and the Hendersons” or, as it is commonly known in our home, “Life with Irish”. (Audrey, Phoebe, Liza, Quinn and Irish, who thinks he's a lap dog)
(Liza makes peace with the fact that Irish isn't going anywhere)
   Kindred spirits Henry and Sam excused themselves to play computer games upstairs.  (Sam and Bruno go upstairs)
(Two of a kind, computer boys Sam and Henry)

   Much too soon our time ended and everyone packed up their wet tennis shoes and pond-soaked socks.
(Brotherly love)

   “Henry, you’re lucky,” Sam said as he hugged Henry good-bye.

   “Why?” Henry asked.

   “Because you get to live here,” Sam said plainly.

   “Well, you can come visit any time Germaine and Kevin let you. You can come this summer or sometimes you could fly up with my dad.”

   “Really!?”

   “Really. Right, Mom?” Henry asked, wanting backup.

    “Anytime, Samma.”
    (Henry lifting a giggling Sam)

   After they left, Henry turned to me and said, "Mama, that Sam's a handful. I don't know if Daddy can handle him. Well, he is MY Daddy. I guess he's used to it, huh?"

   "Does Henry the Handful sound familiar in any way?"

October 29th Pet Semetary

(Cruella - on her way to the Humane Society Gala)

    My sister is a veterinarian with a twisted sense of humor. Recently nominated to be on the board for the Whatcom County Humane Society, she went to their annual Halloween Gala flying solo as Chris had to work. I've been told she could be heard murmuring, “Do you know where the Dalmatian Rescue is located?” throughout the evening.

(Only the demented Donaldsons would have a pet cemetery)

(Is it disturbing to have a vet with this kind of humor?) (I wonder what the leaf lady thinks of these) (Our friend Laura always liked Snoopy - Lisa and I never did) (They actually had a dog named Buck) (Looks like some raccoons got to this one) (9 out of 10 veterinarians say, "Never name a dog Lucky")

October 28th Brown Chicken - Brown Cow

   

(Pea getting the room ready for me to paint - moving electrical - scraping wallpaper)

Tom is in town so we spent the day working on the project that never got finished -- the guest bathroom.

After we picked up Henry from school and went shopping for Halloween costume odds and ends, we went over to have dinner with Chris and Lisa. It was to be a simple meal; they made a salad and potatoes, while we picked up a couple of barbecued chickens at Costco.

    The kids did their homework and ate downstairs, while we dined in the kitchen and caught up on everything. When Tom was pouring me a glass of wine, I noticed there was a message on my cell phone.

    “Hey, uh, this is Wayne.  (Wayne)

I don’t know how to tell you this, but when I got home from work there were two cows in my parking space. I didn’t know what to do. I tried shooing them back to the barn area, but they would just run away and then look at me. I did it again and again, but just as I got close they ran and kicked up their heels and, man, can they jump! Anyway, I only saw two. The other one is missing. I don’t know what else to do, but you probably should get home pretty quick. It's getting dark.”

I pressed 9 to save the message, hung up the phone smiling, and took a sip of my wine. Wayne was new at this. I was reminded of Maryruth. “Some cowboys are all hat and don’t have a lick of cow sense.”

Not that Wayne’s a cowboy, but he is a trouper, giving cow wrangling a try.

.

    “What was that?” Tom asked.

    “Wayne called. Andy and Anna are out. He didn’t see Abe.”

    “He knew which was which?” Lisa looked incredulous.

    “No. But I just know “Abie the Baby” didn’t leave the pasture in the dark.”

    “Should you guys rush home?” Chris asked, raising his eyebrows as he shoveled in a forkful of avocado.

    “Even if we race home, we won’t be there for almost an hour,” Tom remarked, settling back in his chair. “They’re not Pancho and Lefty.”

    “They won’t go anywhere. None of our animals go anywhere. They’ll just hang around the pasture.”  We began eating again. I’d forgotten how tasty Costco chickens are.

    When we got home we drove to the barn, scooped out some grain and went down to the pasture. I’d forgotten to latch the gate when I grained them earlier.

    “Who wants a cookie? Who wants some treats?” I yelled in a sort of singsong tone. Sure enough, Abe came out from behind the barn and I heard cowbells a jingle-jangle-jingling towards us. I poured the grain into the dishes as Tom held the gate open for our wayward friends. They stepped in nice as you please and bellied up to the bar. Tom latched the gate and that was that.

(Anna ready for a late night snack)

A lot different from last year's March Madness (20th)

October 1st Are You My Mother?

(sunset on the San Juans)

    Wednesday night Quinn called me pretending I was her mother. Not being the ouch-when-kicked-under-the-table-kind-of-girl I played along with the old pretend to be Lisa trick.

    “Mom, Phoebe isn’t doing what you said. She’s reading a cereal box instead of doing her homework. AND she’s not going to bed.” Realizing instantly that Quinn, the older daughter, needed backup and being the older daughter myself, I sprang into action.

    “You want me to talk to your sister?”

    “Thanks, Mom.” Now this might not work with most people, but my sister and I sound so much alike that this was commonplace when we were in college. There was a sorority volleyball tournament in Santa Barbara I was forbidden to attend because my mother, who also happened to be going to Santa Barbara for the weekend, didn’t want my sister to be alone. Having the nerve of a burglar I went anyway, looking over my shoulder wherever I went while Lisa played both our voices on the phone each time my mother checked in.

    “Mom! Quinn is not telling you the truth! I am reading!”

    “Phoebe, listen to me. I want you to do what I told you” Having really no idea of what that might be. “And I want you to go to bed.”

    “Who is this?” Phoebe was a worthy adversary. Was I losing my touch? Were there cutesy words I was supposed to be using? My mind was racing. What would Lisa say?

    “Who is this? This is your mother. Now do what Quinn says. I don’t have time to argue. I’ve got to go back inside. Back To School Night is not over.” Click. Phew.

    Lisa called a few minutes later. I informed her I had indeed impersonated her quite tolerably and she should not out me to her youngest and most suspicious child under any circumstances whatsoever. She, having been through many a scheme with me, agreed without argument. I relayed the troublesome part of the conversation.

    “I would have said this is Mommy.”Drat. I was that close.

September 7th Yes Sir, 4 Bags Full

(Spider web amongst the fall leaves)

   

At the last minute we decided to make our sheep shearing a family event. Lisa, Chris and the girls came out to the farm, as did Annie and Kim (Annie’s brother) and his wife Vivian. Kim and Vivian brought decadently ripe figs from their tree, which we devoured throughout the day.

    Our sheep shearing team arrived at 10:00AM. I don’t know what I expected, but I found the experience a bit traumatic. I’d seen sheep shearing before at fairs, but of course, those were just sheep they weren’t my babies. (Henry and Apache just before the big event)

    Apache went first. Not our best idea as Navajo Churro fleece is thick and tough to sheer. He was accidentally cut a few times. Henry and Quinn had to leave. Phoebe hung in there with Lisa and me. A few sheep and a cut or two later, we lost Lisa for a while. Everybody else was in and out. (Apache with a cut) (Phoebe & Lisa gathering wool)

(Apache with his new "do")

    The process was interesting. The shearers didn’t want any assistance. It seems the shearer must do the entire holding him or herself. They put the sheep on their bottoms, which puts them in this Zen-like trance. Immediately, they are rendered motionless – that is if they stay in that spot – which Mildred did not. She’s a kicker. (Angus in the position) (Apache, Cheryl and Angus)
(Mildred, Angus and Apache)

    I decided to keep a little on the top so they’d each have a bit of a hairdo. Nakedy, they all look like babies again. Now it’s easier to tell these little lambs apart. Angus has a small black spot on his neck and Mildred has a tiny ponytail down the back.

    Cheryl who is usually the shyest of the bunch has surprised everyone by suddenly eating out of my hand. Food seems to have overcome her fears.
(Cheryl looking pretty cute)

    The nice thing about a farm is you really don’t have to entertain anyone. While Phoebe and I tended to the sheering everyone else was busy with various things. Kim and Lisa took a walk and visited the cows. Vivian and Annie dove headfirst into the garden trying to free my iceberg rose from the clutches of some unidentified weed. Chris went for a bike ride and Wayne changed his oil, checking in on the Seahawks every little bit.

    With the sheering behind us we all ate a hearty lunch of lemonade, chili and hot cornbread with butter. Soon after with hugs and promises to see them at the farm festival we said good bye to Kim and Vivan. Then it was off to the river for one last summer tubing escapade. It was beautiful and warm for most of the time, but as the sun began to slip behind the mountains, you could feel autumn in the air.

September 3rd Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!

( the most thoughtful gift -a  teency-weency butter churn sent by my old roommate - Mary Shanon)

    Sometimes I don’t realize what a German I am. It’s not as though I would identify myself as German. Yet, on my birthday after weighing all the possibilities: a massage, taking the train to Vancouver, going to the zoo, I chose to have my sister come out for a cleaning-work-day. Anyone I’ve told thinks this is  a sorry way to celebrate, but to me it was bliss.

    I picked Lisa up after dropping Henry at school and we headed out to my place. There are just so many projects to choose from that I fear she was a bit overwhelmed. We chose the Oriental rug in the game room. Since the dogs had been locked inside so many times, they’d chosen to do their business on my mother’s rug. Faced with either cleaning it or tossing it, we hauled it outside. Dragged it to the rocky driveway and soaped it up with Orvus™ which describes itself as good for a variety of cleaning tasks including: rugs, hand washing delicate fabrics and livestock.

(Lisa on her work day)

Lisa soaped it up and began scrubbing the rug with my barn push broom. It worked like a charm. We chatted and laughed about what my mother would think as we scrubbed my mother’s heirloom rug in front of the barn.  This poor rug had come a long way from our dining room in Calabasas Park. But Lisa was sure my mother would feel pleased as she’d insist “this thing was ruined 30 years ago”. Soon we were hosing it off making sure to get all the suds.  After leaving it on the burn pile to dry we set off to tidy the kitchen and organize my bathroom. We spritzed, wiped and sorted in a joyful birthday fog. I felt so taken care of. We hopped in the car in enough time to get grilled cheese with pesto Paninis & Perrier™ to go at the new restaurant, Il Refugio on Mt. Baker Highway and still be on time to pick up the kids.

I didn’t want the day to end – so we drove around doing errands for a while with Lisa and the girls. I sat in the front seat sunning myself on this warm day. Admiring my birthday pedicure the girls had given me as we stopped here and there.

 Eventually, Henry and I headed home.
(Henry forgot to flower - and had a small  mishap with the sunflower bundt pan)

Henry banned me from the house, telling me to sit on the porch while he unbeknownst to me prepared my surprise birthday cake with homemade lemon icing. He did have to call Lisa to verify confectioners sugar was in fact, powdered sugar by another name.
Kristi and Wayne showed up with birthday flowers and tequila - margaritas and Henry's puckering lemon cake ensued. Prost!

August 15th Rolling On De River

    The day had finally arrived to go tubing! To make sure we were there on time, Tom and I made our requisite run to Lowes™ early in the day.  We also had bills to mail, taco fix'ns to buy and so we hurried. The minute we got home, we jumped in our suits, grabbed our tubes and sped down to Acme to wait for the Donaldsons.

    We blew up the tubes, got some snacks and waited. We drove to Strand Road the drop off place for the car and called them. They were going to be even later – they went a different way and got lost. We played games like “Going On a Picnic” It seems there was a miscommunication. We waited for two hours. (Tom, Henry, Sam and Kimona kill time playing games)

    By the time the properly apologetic Donaldsons arrived it was simply too late to go. We couldn’t risk being on the river after dark. And because Lisa was working at the Emergency Clinic and Chris had a business trip to New York, we didn’t think we could go on Sunday. I felt terrible. After all that preparation,  Sam and Kimona were going to miss going.

Like every Hollywood ending - All was darkest before a lady told Chris  there was a short 1/2 mile run we could do. Something was better than nothing. We hopped in. The sun was hot and the water cool. The snowy mountains peered at us from the distance as we bobbed along with the current. (Kimona give it the thumbs up)

(Henry and Sam go head first)

(Quinn trying out the boy's method)

    A few minutes into the float there was a flurry of rescheduling. We’re all going again tomorrow – except Lisa (you just can’t blow off the Emergency Clinic)

(Tired but happy Sam)

(Packing in the Pheeb)

July 29th One Ringy Dingy - Two Ringy Dingy

(Henry & Sam - after they created facial hair with Sharpee™ and make-up - they say they are Paris Street musicians - hmm Dad?)

    Well, the boys did get made up in their sleep, and they did get alfalfa in their cereal and were just rinsing it out when the phone rang. Quinn answered it because she’s twelve and a girl of that age has supernatural phone answering abilities.

    “It’s your husband!”
(The culprits- unprepared for revenge?)
  

    “How does she always answer the phone? Does she stand there all day?” Pea asked like man who can’t fathom answering the phone at all. “I don’t have much time, we just had an earthquake it shook us pretty good. They want us in the conference room, we might have to get out of the building - you can Google™ it. I’m OK, I’ve got to go.” And he hung up.

    We did find out it was a 5.8 and looked at the map, the epicenter etc. We called the kids’ mom, but couldn’t reach her.

    Not too long later, the phone rang again. Quinn was at the pond building a "frog hotel" so the phone answering was up to me.

    “I’m OK. Everyone’s OK.” Began my sister. “We, Phoebe, Nana and I have been in a pretty significant car accident. The airbags deployed. An eighteen-year old suddenly turned in front of me in an intersection. The police are here and have already given him a ticket for not yielding to traffic. I’ve got to go.” And she hung up.

    We waited – every time the phone rang we all looked at each other. What next? It usually comes in threes. Or was Toby getting kicked out of Canada the third thing?

    The phone rang. Quinn answered it.

    “Mom! No! Ahhh, Ohhhh,” Quinn almost whimpered. And she hung up.

    “What!? What?” We all demanded.

    “We got approved for our new puppy.” She said smiling gleefully.

July 2nd Disney Endings

(July 2007)(July 2008- still needs shutters and paint)

(old kitchen with my stove)

(kitchen as it was- can't really see mismatch of cabinets- gunk etc))

I woke up to the blazing hot mountain sun shining in my window. As I lay there I took a moment, today marked a year. I was a real Washingtonian. I’d paid taxes, gotten a speeding ticket, fought with city hall, made it through a winter and lived here when “Annie” (who lived in her truck) was relocated to highway 9 for feeding a bear and running tourists away. It was only 7:30 AM and my room was already feeling warm despite the fan churning over my bed. I peeked in Maryruth’s room. The bed was made. I went downstairs. Dean, who’s always been an early riser, was sitting in the kitchen. He said he was trying to be quiet so he wasn’t watching TV.

(kitchen with  new cabinets etc) As I brewed a pot of coffee, he chatted about his mom and how she wanted to take him to Disneyland™. I found this interesting, because Toby and I have never agreed on Disneyland™. She was always full of disdain when she spoke of The Magic Kingdom™. She had undoubtedly seen the error of her ways. Living in Canada had helped obviously improved her perspective. I was happy she’d come around when Dean announced he didn’t want to go. He felt at twelve he was well past Disneyland™. Stunned, I felt this kind this was bordering on child abuse. How could she? How did she transfer her petty Disneyland™ feelings to a child? It couldn’t be genetic as he is adopted. I would speak to her about this. Almost feeling personally insulted I poured a cup of coffee, sat down and calmly explained “Dean, Disneyland™ is for children of all ages. You are not too old.” Just then, as if on cue my brainwashed child walked in the room and said, “Yeah, have you ever been on Space Mountain™ or Indiana Jones™ huh?” Dean didn’t respond. He sat there blinking at us. He knew he was beat. This is a Disneyland™ home. We’ve got a framed “E” ticket on the wall – just like the Donaldsons (of course, Chris had theirs hanging by the toilet for a while, but that’s been remedied) and I have an Enchanted Tiki Room™ ride replica in the game room. I have this because Pea absolutely hates and despises the Tiki Room™, but he goes to demonstrate the depth of his love. He does not do this silently, he mimics the birds and the clacking of their beaks, but he does do it. I’ve not gone four-four times, but not far from it. We try to go every year – until now.

    (note: Enchanted Tiki Room)

I worked for the mouse for a while, I was in charge of the Princesses, you know Cinderella™ Pocahontas™, Snow White™ and Ariel™ and it wasn’t always an easy place to work. There are all sorts of nicknames for it like Mouseshvitz and Duckhow and The Tragic Kingdom- but that’s different.

Disneyland™ to me is a place where the details are thought of. In each of the different lands everything works together. The flowers, the railings, the costumes, the buildings, the names and the appearance of the restaurants and even the trashcans are themed. There are people who pick up trash in very small areas all day long to keep the place immaculate. I appreciate this. While working on Fort Flashback, I learned from one of the men who agreed to be a history consultant for us that several years back, Disney was attempting a similar venture. I think it was going to be named “Disney’s America”, a history-themed park where they would re-create the Boston Tea Party every hour on the hour kind of thing. Their misstep as I saw it, was trying to do it on the East coast on historic land. Why would you go to the Disney version when you could go to the real thing I wondered? I felt great knowing they’d thought so much of an idea and pursued it so far that we were truly on the right track. I sipped my coffee as Henry rattled off all the reasons I should take HIM to Disneyland™.

(The kids pictures done @ Disneyland)

    Mike arrived, had a cup of coffee, gave the geese fresh water and poked through all the trash, and old books he left behind. I guess I’m supposed to get rid of it all. I packed Dean a lunch for the road and Mike graciously took Dean to SeaTac for me. It made the books and trash a little easier but not much.

I poured another cup of coffee and looked out the window. It was dry as Lusk, Wyoming. Evil Evelyn stood in the middle of my dustbowl with her pink bandana flapping.

I stayed in my pink pajamas all day puttering about the house tidying things up and putting things away. There were a million projects to do and things to take care of, but I’d think about that tomorrow. Instead, I spent the day chatting on the phone with Barbara as I cleaned the kitchen. This was a day of rest and reflection. We arrived a year ago – today. So many things didn’t happen this year I thought would happen. But so many others I didn’t expect did. I guess that’s life in a nutshell. The house isn’t done, but it’s come a long way. Henry doesn’t want to go back to Los Angeles unless it’s to Disneyland™. He’s excited about school.

    My father has come and gone and now is living in France. Naturally, he’s landed on his feet and is residing in an entire third floor apartment in a house in Paris with friends. He’s been invited to play with a “hot-hot reed player” at Le Petit Journal St. Michel and seems Notre-Dame-stomping-S.C.-kind-of-happy.

    Mike got a call today after Dean took off. He has a great job opportunity and he’s only lived his new place two days, so he’s excited about the prospects and feels the move was exactly right for him. Maybe he’ll meet a nice woman in Tacoma; there are a lot of women in his apartment complex he can dazzle with all his Jeopardy knowledge. Hmm.

    My mother’s friend, Marie called wanting to know, now that’s been a year did I regret anything. “Are you sorry you moved?” She queried. Still in my pajamas, I sat in the sunroom looking out the window while we talked. I mulled it over. Did I regret anything? Yes. I regretted a few decisions early on, people I hired, people I trusted. Money I might have spent differently-things like that, but did I regret the move? No. Absolutely not. I love the farm, the animals and the work. Do I regret pursuing a dream? No.  My mother used to say physically she wasn’t strong enough she’d never made it as a pioneer – they’d have left her on the side of the Oregon Trail, but it occurs to me now that she assumed she’d go. I guess that’s how I’m wired, I have to try. If things don’t work out that’s OK. But I have to try.

   
(game room then) (game room now To celebrate our anniversary Henry and I decided to watch “The Golden Compass” as we’d finished listening to it a year-ago as we were driving up Mosquito Lake Road. Before we could watch a movie, the animals needed to be taken care of. Henry went out looking for the geese. “Mom! I can’t find them!” he yelled almost frightened. I ran outside as I had a hunch my apron-string geese hadn’t gone too far. Sure enough they were in the shop looking for someone anyone to supervise or talk to. They get a little clingy. We herded them in to their cozy enclosure. As always Quackmire was the last one in. We were just clipping the pen shut when we heard a crash in the barn. “The goats!” We both yelled. We ran to the barn. Pea’s big barn doors he’d made had been left closed all day to keep the heat out and provide a nice cool respite from the sun. Luckily, as I guess I didn’t close one of their gates all the way. We walked in and it was goat pandemonium. Riley was king of the hill on top of the round bale. Goat poop everywhere – Henry noticed this immediately as he was barefoot. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Miracle was braying her head off as if she’d been trying to tell someone all day about these hooligans. She wanted extra pellets for the day she’d had. No harm done as the packer pellet bin was still secure and all they’d done was eat hay.
  

    “Riley, you come down from there this instant.” I commanded in my teacher voice. Riley looked at me with his big brown eyes. Bleated a time or two and jumped down. I opened the gate and told them to get back in their pen. Sheepishly, they complied. They were full and ready for bed.

    “Well, I guess we don’t have to really feed them much.” Henry said looking on the bright side.

    The goats and Miracle closed up for the night, the geese nestled in the garage, Irish asleep on the porch, Emmett snoozing on the back of his chair, Vivian at my feet, Deli lounging in the sunroom, Alvin & Scarlet curled up in the cat tree, the cow bells clanging in the field and Luther snoring at my side, Henry sipping his cookie dough milkshake we were just about to pop the movie in when the phone rang. It was Lisa. “I’m just leaving work and I smelled a smell I haven’t smelled in a year!” She said excitedly.

    “What?”

    “You know that smell, the smell of rain coming down on dry, parched earth.”

    I went out onto the porch. “I smell it too.” Moments later, the sky lit up with lightening, thunder cracked “We have lightening.” Rain began to pour down. “It’s raining!”

    “Maybe your corn will make it after all. Don’t put a way those pumpkin seeds just yet. Maybe there’s still time.”

    “Maybe.” Maybe my friend, Gary did that rain dance I asked for.

    “Happy Anniversary.”

    “You too.”

June 17th What Tomorrow Will Bring

    We waited and waited, my father paced and paced, finally I sent him out on the porch with a book promising to call him the moment the doctor phoned. We waited. The clock ticked. Nothing.

    "Maybe they didn't get the results back yet. That happens. The pathologist could have been slammed."

    “If I don’t hear anything in an another hour I’m going to call.” My father said in a tone that implied he was simply going to confirm he was death’s door. Another hour passed and another and finally he called. Nothing, someone would call him back.

    After about an ice age around 3:00PM the screaming phone broke the silence. We all froze. Henry and I were both upstairs without a phone. Henry dashed down the stairs on the level of Michael Johnson, but my dad beat him to it. We listened. My father stood there in silence, his eyes welling with tears, he hung-up. A sound like a wounded animal came from deep within him.

    "I’ve got it. I’ve got another cancer.”

    "Tell me exactly what was said.”

    “Well, it wasn’t the doctor. He’s on vacation, he’ll call me later, but of the two sites, one was malignant. Stage one bladder cancer. I can’t go to Paris. My chance is over.” He stood there crushed. Defeated.

    “Don’t panic yet. Remember - Mom’s was stage three and aggressive. I don’t think it’s going to kill you I think it’s an inconvenience.”

    I guess I should call your sister.” He said haltingly.

    “I’ll call her.” I did and she as usual had some interesting things to say. She wondered if he couldn’t be treated with oral medication and perhaps he could be checked at the VA in Germany, as well as great questions. She started my wheels spinning and I hopped on the computer ending up on a medical website giving full descriptions and statistics as well as treatment for bladder cancer. Over many bouts with cancer, I’ve learned you’ve got to be informed and ask the right questions. The more I read, the more I wondered if my father hadn’t already had treatment. The description on the site of TUR was identical to my father’s biopsy procedure and follow-up.

    “Dad, I think you’ve already had your first treatment. When the doctor calls ask him about this” I showed him the site. He sat down with a glass of scotch and began reading.

    When the doctor called, it was confirmed. He had done all he could do when he did the biopsy and no further treatment was recommended for four months.

    My dad announced with twinkling eyes he was leaving for Paris in the morning. “It might be my last chance. My last hurrah, who knows what the future will bring?”

    “In the morning?  You’re ready? You’ve cleaned out the apartment?”

    “I only wish I could have gotten the stove cleaner.”

    “I’m flying standby on Jet Blue so I might as well take a shuttle down to Seattle.”
I called Lisa. “He’s leaving.”

    “He is. When?”

    “In the morning.”

    “That’s dad.”

    “Yep. Grasshopper. He wants to spend the night at your house and have you take him to the shuttle at the ValuInn in the morning.”

    “Hmm. Tell him, I’ll take him to Seattle.”

    “He said he was going to take a shuttle, because he’s on standby. He got a pass from Erickson.”

    “No. I’ll take him and I’ll take the kids to the aquarium. We’ll make a day of it.”

    “I know Henry will be thrilled. He loves aquariums. Remember when he went on a date with Kemi (my friend, his second grade teacher) I think he wanted to marry her after that. I’ll have Mike drop him off at your house after gymnastics. I’ll throw a box of CapriSuns™ in his bag for the ride.”

    This meant, my father was leaving in less than an hour for his trip because he had a practice/good-bye session with some musicians.”

    He came over to say good-bye and give me last minute financial instructions. I was to deposit this and do that, and had I made his reservation on the shuttle yet? I explained the plan.

(giddy with excitement)

    "Well she better be able to get those kids out of the house on time. I want to be early.” This was stating the obvious. My father likes to be six hours earlier than anyone else for everything – after all he has a book.  For a 6:00 AM flight he’d leave the night before. I told him having had a flight attendant for a roommate; I knew you could check the flight loads. Shannon always did this because she flew standby a lot.  He called Jet Blue and checked. He didn’t need to be there at the crack of dawn. The children would live another day.

     It was emotional when he left. We both were stunned at how the day had turned around, but I was happy he was off to live. It was hard having him here knowing how unhappy he’d become. Smiling and waving promising to email he drove away. I looked over his apartment - there was much to be done. "didn't get the stove clean enough" In order to get it that way, you have to wipe it off. Our ideas of clean differ.

I consoled my self with the sod cutter I’d rented from Home Depot™. I was starting the new walkway to my front door. Maybe it was symbolic?

(Mike and friends)

The next day, having completed step one, I was in Lowes™ getting concrete for the path, when my phone rang. It was Henry they were having a great time at the aquarium he was going to get Lisa to send me a picture he’d taken on the phone we got him for graduation. ("Here is the picture of the skate I was telling you about. It  really was moving around  like it could see us and trying to get our attention. Looks like some alien child.")

    As Mike and I wound up the 9 with 800lbs of concrete in my van my phone rang again. I expected it was Henry over eager to dial someone.

    “Hi. I just wanted to tell you I’m sitting on the plane and they’ve just shut the doors. We’re going to taxi from the gate in a moment. I just want to say I love you and I appreciate everything you’ve done. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I know how hard you tried."

    "Do you know what you're doing after you get off the plane?”

    "No not yet. I'll figure it out."

    "Just be safe and have a great time."

    “I will Honey, I love you dearly. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I land. Au revoir.”

    "Bon Chance." Click.

June 15th Wishin' & Hopin' & Thinkin' & Prayin'

Having rolled out of bed, Henry and I slopped through the wet grass to the car at about 6:30 AM, loading Tom’s suitcases while he finished a few last minute things and wrote a host of instructions for me regarding a myriad of projects.

On the way to the airport, we listened to Sissy Spacek drawl “To Kill A Mockingbird”. No one wanted to admit we were going to have to say goodbye. Again.

We stopped at Starbucks™ and picked up a couple of coffees. Tom insists on going through his medium routine.

    “You mean a Grande, Sir?”
    “A medium black coffee.” He delivers this with a straight face.
    “A Grande.”
    “A medium.”
    “I think you want a Grande.”
    “I want the medium-size coffee.”
    “Any flavoring?”
    “Just a medium black coffee.”

    The baristas get a little nervous and confused, but he won’t play. He stands there deadpan, firmly ordering his medium coffee. He’s always been this way – he says. But I remember back when he used to brew “Irish Crème”.

    “I don’t like those fruffity-doofity drinks”

    We sat sipping our mediums in front of the airport terminal. Henry had made a huge rhyming card covered in tools, which ended by suggesting Tom might want to change Henry’s name to DeWalt™(a power tool brand).

    When the inevitable came and Tom got out of the car and we were ready for a weepy parting of the hearts Tom spotted some guy in a NASCAR shirt. Suddenly, he was giving the guy garbage about his driver versus Tom’s driver in his “team” over my shoulder as he hugged me goodbye. Henry rolled his eyes and said, “That’s my dad; he’ll talk to anyone about NASCAR.” True. He hasn’t been into NASCAR for very long, but once his son, Craig, got into it Tom made a Herculean effort to find out about it and somewhere along the way he got completely addicted. I could see him still yucking it up with the guy in the NASCAR shirt in my rearview mirror as we drove off.

    We just made a quick stop at Home Depot for a few cans of paint to paint the guest room and a can of spray paint. We're going to outline the new walkway Henry and I decided we have to have. We've gotten our feet wet one too many times. Resolved, we headed home to do chores and clean up. (proposed outline)
One father down and one to go, we were actually putting on some town clothes and heading back into Bellingham to watch my dad play at Boundary Bay Brewery.

    Henry couldn’t sit in the bar so we hooked him up with a chair just on the other side of the divider where he could see his grandpa. I sipped my glass of wine and watched my father perform as I’ve done so many times before. This time was different. He looked distracted and a bit sad. I could tell he really wasn’t recovered enough to play, but that never stops him. I watched and realized why he wanted to go back to Paris so much. Although he really enjoys the other musicians, they don’t play a lot of traditional jazz. For the first time I understood what he was talking about. I only hope he can go.

My favorite memory of Father’s Day isn’t of my dad, Tom or even my grandfather, it’s of Chris. Years ago, Lisa, Chris, Quinn and Henry were driving around in the Valley heat on Father’s Day looking at houses - Phoebe wasn’t even born yet. We’d spent the day in and out of places and Chris finally complained he was starving and it was, after all, Father’s Day, didn’t that mean anything?  Lisa promptly drove through McDonalds™ and ordered up some food. When all was said and done, poor Chris crumpled up in the back seat had to share his cold fries with both kids. He’s a damn good sport.

Lisa, Chris and the girls strolled in out of the sunshine. Tired of sitting by himself, Henry and the girls got their own table in the back – we tried to order fries for both tables– now the traditional Father’s Day food in the Donaldson home. They didn’t have any. Chris was able to console himself with the sampler platter.
 

Boundary Bay - 2008

June 13th A Good Time

   (Henry's teacher's gift)

    This morning I woke up very early and began trolling dew-covered ditches, hillsides and the pond for wildflowers. My trusty companion, Irish, trotted along next to me chewing on my reject pile. When I was done I was soaked, but I had created Henry’s teacher’s gift. I couldn’t afford much, but I picked up the vase at TJ MAXX™ for a song.

Creativity, I am convinced, is born of poverty. When I bought my first home I couldn’t really afford to do much, but I couldn’t stand it the way it was, so I had to get creative. I ripped out the bathroom and went around collecting broken tile from different stores – stuff they were going to discard. Toby and I went to Home Depot™ and got a little pamphlet on how to tile and set to improving my bathroom. Much to everyone’s surprise – especially my mother’s -  it looked fabulous. Thus I realized, if I’d had the money, I never would have gone to the trouble.

The day has rambled on. Henry had his “fifth grade culmination”, which was actually a small award assembly. He went on to a swim party on Lake Whatcom while Tom and I raced back to the house to get ready for our celebratory barbecue. With barely a word to each other we furiously tidied, cleaned, marinated and set up tables.

We’d decided to have our dinner out by the pond so we could enjoy the evening, rain or shine, thanks to our covered pavilion. This meant hauling Tom’s new half-gas half-briquette grill out there in the truck. He loves it because it looks like a steam locomotive.

Meanwhile, Mike and my father are down at the hospital in Mt. Vernon. My father is having a biopsy for bladder cancer. It is an outpatient procedure so he should be home by this evening. Mike’s happy because he can sit and read while he waits and avoid having to clean the house. He calls in every few hours to update us on my father’s condition. “He’s still sleeping” seems to sum it up.

    The  “guests”, meaning Lisa, Chris, Annie, Quinn, Phoebe and Henry, as well as Diane, Jordan and Lauren all arrived late. Thank the Lord.

    Despite our best efforts, we haven’t gotten the Mosquito Magnets™ up and running so we scattered tiki torches filled with Citronella™ around. This was not terribly effective, but we made do.

    Just after everyone arrived, my tired-but-otherwise-OK father arrived with Mike. A few more guests also made an appearance. Lloyd, Matilda, Quackmire, Cleveland, Clara, Ruthie, Alfred and Mabel waddled up for their first swim in the pond. They’ve turned out to be very clingy. These geese don’t like to be left alone and always want to be where the action is. Once they arrived we all held our breath waiting to see them frolic in the pond. They didn’t. They hated the pond and were afraid of the water. Apparently, I have the only geese this side of the Mississippi with hydrophobia. We tried putting them in the water to show them how wonderful it is, but they would just flap wildly, squawking frantically until they reached land once more. Confused, stunned and full of disbelief, we left them to their own devices, not wanting to emotionally scar them. After that they flapped contentedly around the party, coming in the pavilion to check on Tom’s cooking and say hello. Weirdoes. (Lisa giving swimming lessons to Cleveland) (more lessons)

    Little Chris Donaldson showed up with Roxy, Andrea (a new girlfriend he’s had a crush on since the sixth grade), and he also brought a surprise guest – his horse. He trailered “Oz” over for Henry to ride as a present. (Little Chris & Andrea)

(Henry on Oz)

    All in all, our first summer evening was relaxed and wonderful. The kids walked the goats and rode the tractor, played badminton and floated in the boat while we ate Tom's delicious ribs, cosmic beans, corn and watermelon, sipped my sangria and downed Diane’s brownies. (Jordan and her mother - Diane)

May 17th Phoebe Dolittle

         

   

  I woke up to “bang, bang, bang! Bang, bang, Bang! It sounded like construction, but we're so far from anyone that didn't really make sense. I heard it again, so this time I got up. Now awake, I had a pretty good idea who was causing all this racket, so I tiptoed down the stairs and crept out the back door past Irish, the sleeping giant. Bang, Bang, Bang. I went around the side of the garage, looked around and there he was, one of my noisy neighbors - the woodpecker hammering on the metal roof of the tractor barn. An industrious if misguided little fella, on par with Wally as far as work ethic. He sounded like a jackhammer as his head bobbed up and down. I have seen a lot of woodpeckers in my time, but I can't quite decide which kind he is. I thought at first he was a Pilated Woodpecker, but he doesn't quite match. Then I thought he was a Red-headed woodpecker, but again he doesn't quite match that description either.

(now positioned on a tree)

    I'd just gone in for coffee when Phoebe came trotting down the stairs, still groggy from sleep. She’d konked out during the movie last night and was up much earlier than I’d planned.

    “When are we going to see the geese?” she inquired with some amount of urgency.

    “Good morning to you too. Well, why don’t you get dressed or at least put some shoes on and I’ll drink my coffee.” Reluctantly, she went upstairs as I sipped. Grateful I’d kept her at bay for a few minutes. Before I’d finished my cup she was back downstairs, wide-eyed and ready to go.

    “Did you brush your teeth?” I asked, hoping to buy a few more minutes of quiet.

    “Yes, I brushed my teeth,” she answered with all the seven-year-old attitude she could muster.

    “Are you lying?”

    “Noooo I'm not lying. I brushed my teeth. Get up. Let’s go. C’mon I want to see the geese and the goats and walk to the pond and give the cows some cookies. You can bring your coffee” I’ve learned in these situations to just pour another cup of coffee and get with the program or you’re fighting a force of enthusiasm that will eventually overcome you.

(Phoebe waiting for me to finish my coffee) ( Emmet climbs on)

(Phoebe & Mabel) (Phoebe after being goosed)     (Phoebe & the barn animals) (Phoebe & Christina)

    

    After our morning escapade, Phoebe followed the recipe for Krusteaz™ Belgian waffles, deciding not to add nutmeg and hint of cinnamon like Henry. She’s a purist.

    Henry finally stumbled downstairs  a couple of hours later and smelled the waffles.

    “She didn’t add the nutmeg and cinnamon, did she?” Henry has loved his waffles this way ever since he saw Billy Ray Cyrus put cinnamon and a hint of nutmeg in his waffles on "Hannah Montana". He corrected the problem before pouring the batter into the waffle iron. By this time, Mike had finally gotten up. Despite his belief that sleeping late is some kind of mortal sin, he manages not to come downstairs on the weekends until almost 11:30AM or sometimes even as late as 1:00PM. He rationalizes this by explaining he was awake in his room. How this differs I’m not at all sure, but it makes him feel better. I, on the other hand, have no problem with lolling about. I just can’t seem to relax when I see so many darn unfinished projects, but I’m the kind of person who has a hard time staying home sick when the house is a mess. I don't necessarily clean up them mess, rather I go to work sick. I feel as though I’ve got to clean it up and, if I don’t I’m out of sorts. Given this, you’d think my house was immaculate. It isn’t. At the moment it’s what I like to call in flux. The spice cabinet is just this side of alphabetical, but there are still boxes and papers in the office that need to be filed. The missing drywall doesn’t help. My room has a pile of clothes that rivals the pyramids needing to be given away and I don’t make my bed as often as I should. Although I know I’d be happier if I did.

    Once everyone was fed, the syrup wiped up, the dishes loaded and another pot of coffee was brewing, we all went out to tackle the flower garden fence. Much to my surprise, the cement we’d poured a week ago had not truly hardened. Reportedly, it had poured for two days straight while Henry and I were at Mountain School. As a result some of the posts had sat in wet cement for so long they’d sunk down an inch or so. My dad, Mike, the kids and I tried to fix the fence, but after a while it was evident we’d have to pull out some of the posts and start over. “If you don’t do it right it’s not worth doing” rings in my head every time I want to take a short cut. That man haunts me through any sort of construction project.

    “You’re going to pull the post out? #@#$%! Deal me out,” my father predictably grumbled, lowering his head. His opinion is negated by the fact that he thinks everything is good enough and anything can be fixed if you pound it hard enough with a hammer.

    “Yes, because I’m not going to look at this fence for the next ten years and hate it. And I don’t want Tom to come home and be disappointed.”

    “Let Tom fix it then,” he growled. Mike laughed nervously in some sort of complicit agreement. I started pulling out the post without any further discussion. It slipped out of the ground with frightening ease. The cement did not even adhere to the post. I continued taking out the incorrect posts and after some coaxing and cajoling my dad, Mike and the kids all helped get the fence done right. We couldn’t do everything, because we had to wait for the posts to at least harden a little.

    The kids spent the afternoon walking back and forth to the pond