As The Butter Churns

March 15th Duck Tales

   

(The Twin Sisters)

     The next morning I tumbled out of bed and brewed a stiff pot of Three Peckered Billy Goat , popped three duck eggs in a pan, toasted a bagel and shot off to school. A bleary-eyed Henry ate his breakfast as we drove along Mt. Baker Highway.

     After dropping off a reluctant child armed with all his make-up assignments, $3.00 for lunch and an office note to get back into class I puttered around the kitchen trying not to lose momentum. I did a smattering dishes, began cleaning out the refrigerator, returned emails, composed follow-up notes to potential leads we'd gotten, researched boxes makers for our new sample pack and was beginning to catch Alexis up on all the exciting things that had happened at the show. I collected a few overripe turkey eggs, a tomato, a rotten apple and some stale Dorritos™ for Midge. Alexis volunteered to take the pale outside and give our princess her treats. "I'll be right back and then I want to hear about the Entrpreneur Magazine interview," he called over his shoulder as the door shut.

    He was gone so long, I brewed another pot of coffee, finished wiping down the kitchen and in a momentary lapse of sanity was actually considering folding laundry to kill time. Luckily the vacuum was handy. I figured he’d gotten caught up with some project he spotted when was calling Midge to brunch.

    When Alexis finally came inside he walked quietly into the kitchen where I was eyeing a mound of comforters I was considering taking to a laundromat. He just stood there silently staring at me. Waiting. I looked at Alexis quizzically and yet he just stood there. It took me a moment to realize he had a duck folded up in his sweatshirt. “Out of the claws of death,” he said shaking his head. “Really.” 

  

(Alexis - slayer of dragons -and Angela)

    “What? What happened?”

    “Well, I went outside to feed Midge her scraps when I saw an eagle over by the stream near the road. It was on the ground and I realized she had something black. This time I realized it was the duck. I started running down the hill and grabbed a branch, hopped the fence and threw the stick at the eagle. It took off with the duck and had her four feet high in the air when I threw another stick and the eagle dropped the duck into the water. I waded in and got the duck. The eagle flew to a tree nearby waiting to reclaim her prey, but I carried her back in here. She seems ok.”

    “That’s nuts! But I don’t’ get it. The ducks never ever went way over there. They’d be what you might call sitting ducks.” 

    “I know.” Alexis concurred. “I think the eagle grabbed Angela from the other end of the pasture where Lance was taken and flew across the pasture where she was going to finish her off away from any of the buildings.” 

    My heart soared. “You're a hero! Slayer of winged predators, and this is one lucky duck! I laughed and Alexis laughed too. We'd had enough death. Or fear of it. “Is she hurt?” I wondered. Alexis then unfolded his sweatshirt he’d swathed around her. Bloodstains smeared his sweatshirt and without hesitation I dialed Kulshan and asked for a duck doctor. The doctor told me IF Angela was going to live I needed to take her in for care immediately. Hanging up I called the Cat Clinic.  

    "Hello, Cat Clinic"

    "Hello, I'm trying to reach Dr. Donaldson, it's her sister." I added "It's an emergency." Mostly because I usually say - if she's busy it's not important, but today it was definitely important.

    “Your sister didn't have any afternoon appointments. She’s already left for the day,” the receptionist informed me. I dialed Lisa on her cell finding her at Trader Joes™ sampling treats and drinking coffee out of a little paper cup, she didn't hesitate, “OK bring her in, I'll head back to the clinic. We' need to weigh her because she’ll definitely need antibiotics and I don’t know what else until I see her. You know, she should have ducked.”

    “OhhhK, well we’ll find a box or a carrier and be there as soon as possible.” Alexis went to get a carrier while I threw on some clothes and headed out the door.

    Driving the 30 long miles or so to town without speeding was maddening today, but I know the consequences. I'm a real lead-foot tending toward 62 in a designated 55mph. Bellingham police however must have a picture of my van on the precinct wall. I can get pulled over for doing 30 in a 25 driving the racy Honda Odyssey aka the "Silver Bullet"

    I called Tom and told him of Alexis' quick thinking.

    "Wow! That's a big day for a duck." He exclaimed. "A few seconds later and the eagle might have been having duck soup," he commented wryly.

    Eventually, I pulled into the Cat Clinic parking lot like any other law abiding citizen. Lisa had been waiting for me and must have been watching for me out the window because she cam jogging out and retrieved the carrier with Angela in it. “Can you pick up Phoebe from school? She asked. 

    “I’m on my way,” I said hopping back in to the car after I texted Henry about what was going on. 

 

    <Am at the vet with duck. Eagle had in claws> Mama

    < Wait! What duck? Lance? I’m so confused> Henry – the white ninja

    <No, not Lance. Angela. She’s with Lisa. Will explain be there soon>

    <Holy Crap!> Henry – the white ninja

 

    Pulling into Fairhaven Middle, I saw an anxious Henry run toward me and explained the dramatic duck rescue on the way to claim Phoebe. Henry jumped out when we got to Larabee Elementary School and went in search of Pheebs.

    “Your mom asked me to get me, we’re going to her work.” I said when she appeared next to my open window.

    “Henry already filled me.” She said matter-of-factly. “Let’s go!” 

    When we arrived at the clinic Angela was just beginning her examination. “It seems the patient needed some relaxing,” Lisa explained. “So she’s gotten a little something to calm her down. I called, Dr. Dan, since he does a lot of birds. The funny thing is he didn’t exactly know what to tell me, as he doesn’t have a lot of eagles swoop away with ducks in the San Fernando Valley. Nor does anyone really have many ducks who’ve lived to tell the tale. 

    “Did you notice she couldn’t quack?”

    “She’s so brave,” Emily interjected as she held her down for her examination and eventual surgery.

(Angela's eagle wound - she is a rare heritage duck - a Cayuga)

(Angela's wound another view)

  

(Dr. Lisa and Emily get Angela patched up)

(Phoebe - destined for medicine - helps- while Henry goes up to wait in the waiting room during the stitching of the bird)

(Emily finds an itty-bitty kitten Elizabethan "E" collar for Angela so she doesn't preen her stitches)

(Lisa, Henry, Phoebe and Emily see if omnivore -Angela will eat a little cat food)

(Now it's time for a bigger helping)

(A pensive Phoebe, a worried Henry a thirsty Angela and a happy Emily - is it Angela or that she is leaving for Hawaii)

My sister sent Angela home with an Elizabethan collar and antibiotics. “You’ll have to give her a shot twice a day.” 

    “Really? Twice a day? I’ve never given a shot to a bird. Where do I give it?”

    “Just to the side of her breast bone.”

    “What if I make a mistake?”

    “You won’t. Just turn her over and pretend it’s Thanksgiving. Feel for the bone and then move the needle over to the side like this.” She said demonstrating. “You just push the feathers aside put the needle in and pull back to see if any blood comes into the syringe.”

    “Blood! What? Are you kidding me? I don't want to hurt her.” 

    “Calm down you don’t want to give it in her vein. Simply check for blood if you get any move the needle and do it again.” She stated with the kind of authority a younger sister should not be in possession of. Dang it.

    “OK. I’ve got it.” I said knowing I was beat.

    "All right then, get the duck out of here!" She giggled. "I've been waiting all afternoon to say that."

    Upon our return home, Angela bunked in the attic with Alexis. My sister didn’t want her in the barn where she might get chilled. And her mental state was at issue so we considered bringing in a friend, but there really wasn't a suitable companion. We batted around the idea of our precious, Louise, (the only chicken with a name) but we were afraid having that sharp beak and being in close quarters, it might not be a good idea. Lisa was worried though that Angela might depressed because she was alone so I did what I would do if I were sick. I let her watch all of the ABC soaps. 

 

(After all Tad Martin was about to be married to Cara - so she wouldn't be deported and killed by drug lords - and because she was his brother, Jake's ex-wife who was turned into immegration by Jake's current wife, Amanda - the daughter of crazy Janet Green and Trevor Dillon)

(Trevor Dillon & Janet Green)

                                

                            ###

 

    “I’m calling with the morning duck report,” I said cheerily.

    “Yes? How is the patient?”

    “Let’s put it this way. She loves AMC. Tad Martin, he quacks her up, but she is scared “shitless” by the shot. And I do mean this quite literally as I’m covered in green goop and stink to high heaven.”

    “Good,” she chuckled, “I mean, of course that she’s pooping.” 

    “Right." I said suspiciously. "Anyway, her quack seems to be returning, she's still hoarse and sounds a bit like Brenda Vaccaro, but it's improving. And she laid an egg!”

    “An egg? Really? Well, that is something. In the business we like to say she’s doing just ducky!”

 

 (Angela wearing her "E-collar" with her egg)

November 25th Hair Today

 (Festive - ok it's a little Christmas looking, but it'll do pig)

 
    All was right with the world. The house was relatively clean despite the power outage and the pipes freezing. Alexis had been  cast some sort of spell and water had magically appeared out of the faucets last night.

   (in Tom's coat wearing pjs - putting coats on goats during the middle of the night in the extreme cold)

 (The goats are not playing Survivor - this is a full service barn - everyone is warmer now)

 (Not nearly as stylish as my friend, Sandra - but staying warm during the power outage - when the house got to 42 degrees- the stove is gas so we can still make coffee)

    The table was set, snow covered the ground and clung to the trees in Bing Crosby fashion. I’d cranked up the heat to 67 to keep my out of town guests’ teeth from chattering. The house was cozy and lively, people coming and going, cartoons blaring, hot coffee, sautéed onions and roasting turkey mingled in the air confirming it was indeed another Thanksgiving.

    Toby had flown in with Dean the night before and had been up promptly at 6:30 chopping. No, she didn’t want to use a chopper, she’s Italian. The Donaldson’s had arrived with the prodigal son, Mike in tow and were laughing and chatting over a wheel of brie drizzled with our newest Stinger™ - “The Naughty Nana” a ginger and pepper blend. 

 (Toby in her apron and Bruno in his coat take a break from the meal preparations)

   (Chris in the background - Toby Ann Forlenza)

 (Clearly Dean has gone to the dogs)

    Ayumi (pronounced “I-U-Me), Henry, Quinn, Dean and Phoebe’s old babysitter was bustling about cooking cranberriies while her 7-year-old daughter Kaya played 57 rounds of tick-tack-toe with Quinn on the whiteboard in the kitchen. It was wonderful so nice to have Ayumi with us - she and her high school friend Ilsa had been the kids sitters since Ayumi was 15 and Henry was about a year and a half. I'd leave him with Ilsa sitting and come home to find Ayumi. They both lived in the neighborhood and would just let themselves in, use the pool and hang-out. 

    "Ayumi you should move up here," Mike suggested emphatically as he shoveled in some rosemary bread slathered Naughty Nana. "This is by far my favorite flavor," he informed me. 

    "Well," she said cautiously, "I do want to get out of Los Angeles. Life is such a grind what with being three hours in the car everyday." She lamented.

 

  (Ayumi & Kaya after sledding and building their first snowman)

 (Kaya and Henry snuggle)

   (Mike has been missing in action for two months - upon receiving death threats from me - he re-emerged for the holiday - Mike laughs easily - and is afraid of me - two of his best traits)

   

    “Hey hon, can you get the second oven working?” Toby asked. “I have a few more things to put in.”

     Taking a sip from my coffee cup I reached up to the cupboard and grabbed a box of stick matches. Absently I took the middle griddle off the old O’keefe & Merritt and began pressing and turning the red button Pablo my old plumber taught me to do. This is supposed to secure the ability to hold the flame.

     Putting my coffee cup down on the counter took a nibble of brie and bent down and opened the broiler confirming the pilot was out. Striking the match I reached up with my right hand to turn on the oven. I guess someone had already turned it to 500 degrees. In split seconds it was all over. I heard the “whoop” and saw the plume of flame leaping toward me. Somehow I knew it wasn’t going to stop. I slammed my eyes shut. I could feel the flames reach my face and my hair crackling. Reflexively I turned my head pushing my self away with my right hand and throwing myself face down on the wood floor. I didn’t move a muscle assessing whether or not I was on fire. In between the screams of surprise that filled the kitchen I chastised myself for the crumbs on the floor now grinding into my cheek. I could hear my sister’s voice through the din. She was going to throw her scarf around me to put out the flames. Toby’s hand reached in. Everyone was asking if I was all right. My sister who I’ve lived through about a million tragedies with started making Michael Jackson jokes before I could confirm I still had my vision.

     I was scared really scared.

    I felt a sharp searing pain in my left eye and my right hand really hurt. Crumpled up, Toby and my sister lifted me to the sink. Lisa hugged me and Dr. Donaldson took charge, “Keep your hand under the cold water. Quinn, get her ice, Toby do you have any eye solution? Let’s get her upstairs.”

 Once I opened my eyes and Lisa examined me asking all the familiar questions, “Does your eye feel scratchy?”

     “No.”

     “Thank God.”

   (no more bangs :( -- the end of the world to someone who hides behind them -  and what's left of my scorched and melted hair- although you can't tell - my eyebrows are crunchy)

    “I’m grateful I can see.”

     “You dodged a bullet," she said squeezing my hand, "and sorry my Michael Jackson jokes were perhaps a few minutes premature.” 

 “We’ve had worse Thanksgivings,” I said smiling as much as I could manage. She nodded knowingly thinking back to Thanksgivings past – our grandmother Irene died on Thanksgiving, and there was the Thanksgiving, we were held at gunpoint…"Ahh memories, this will be the Thanksgiving Denise burned her hair off."

     Now that our medical fears had been assuaged, Quinn came bounding in to assess the cosmetic. Scrutinizing my hair she turned to Phoebe, “I think what we need is to first deep, deep condition, can you get some mayonnaise and conditioner in here?” She turned her attention back to me and said in her most consoling Quinn-tone, “Don’t worry, you still have a little bit of eye lash, your eyebrows are singed but some are still sort of there and your bangs? Well, hats are really in this time of year. I saw some really cute ones at American Eagle.”

(getting the treatment in my skull pajamas and towel)

   (Quinn my hairdresser, me now in my pajamas and towel -covered in mayonnaise and conditioner all over and the lovely assistant - Phoebe - treating me in my yet to be renovated bathroom)

 (with saran wrap around my head - we sat down and were grateful - especially me)

 (Quinn is grateful for mashed potatoes)

 (Everyone has fun playing games)

 (Henry wins Apples to Apples)

 (None of our farm turkeys were harmed in the preparation of dinner - before the snow - Frank looks a little motley, but Brad is coming into his own - Alice is his mate - Silence matches Frank)

 

April 4th All Ears

 (Luther, The Easter Basset)

     My little sister, Lisa, is almost pious if it weren’t for her ongoing affair with the cookie. In fact, Lisa has never met a cookie she didn’t like. She’ll eat them for breakfast, nibble them in the afternoon with a hot cup of coffee and sneak a few at midnight with her decaf Earl Grey™ and a book. Lisa barely discriminates; she just loves cookies, all cookies. She’ll snack on everything from Thin Mints™, Milanos™, Chessmen™, Snicker doodles, Le Petit Ecolier™, Savanahs™ to Chocolate Chunk, Madeleines Ginger Snaps and even the little Cat Cookies™ you get from Trader Joes™. So when she gave cookies up for Lent, I knew it was a true Catholic sacrifice unto God. And good for her waistline.

  (Holy Cow!- Gnatalie)

 (Tabitha)
 

 (Edward peeks)

 (Rachel gets into the act)

 (Henry and Edward-- bunny up)

 (Tabitha determined to don the ears)
 
     Now, Lisa does a lot for me, being my on call vet for forty-six animals of all shapes and sizes. She is tirelessly researching reasons and doing tests to find out why Luther is drinking so much water just in case he has some sort of mysterious condition. She willing gives up her days off to help me on the farm and she rides three hours to Olympia to drop off Irish just because I need someone to hold my hand. During the last few weeks she'd dropped a few hints about hoping there would be cookies ready for her at the end of Lent. I wanted her to know I was listening.

     I decided to make her some cookies. They couldn’t be just any cookies; they had to be special cookies. Cookies that said you do a lot for me and I love you. 

    In this spirit, I hesitantly ventured into the mysterious uncharted waters of rolled fondant. A strange, flexible icing used to decorate cakes and cookies. Rolled fondant as it turns out is a true cavity creating combination of marshmallows and powdered sugar mixed together to form a kind of dough. You begin by melting them together in a double boiler and mixing them up in a big ooey-gooey mess. The directions say, “Thoroughly coat your hands with Crisco™ this process is like a hand softening treatment”. Kneading this pile of gunk is like being in an, “I Love Lucy episode” fondant everywhere sticking to everything. When I added a sprinkle too much of water and it began to stick to everything, so I added a touch more powdered sugar and the darn thing became dry and cracked. Drat. I did it over and over and over. Frustrated I called my Martha-Stewart-friend, Toby, for advice. Certainly, she must have made rolled fondant after all she makes her own crackers and marshmallows Why make crackers or marshmallows? Where’s the benefit? Are they better fresh?

  (Fondant - prep)
 

    “Are you kidding,” she said, “I’ve never made it or used it, but I’d buy it at Michaels™ you can get packages in different colors.”

    “Oh, I was trying to save money,” I thought it would taste better homemade,” I complained. And although she didn’t have any sage advice, Toby did keep me company on the phone while I took my turn as a bread machine, kneading my concoction to near perfection.

    Next, on the docket was the actual cookie. I selected shortbread for a variety of reasons. First they are an excellent dunking cookie, delicious with tea and they hold their shape when baking better than the benchmark sugar cookie.

    Baking cookies might seem simple enough, but I’m known for getting distracted, missing the timer and inevitably scorching entire batches. This time was no different. I tried, but when the timer went off they just didn’t "look" done. So I gave them just a little longer. A little too long, I tried again, but they all had a bit of a tan. No matter I would cover that right up with fondant.

  (Shortbread dough)

 (a bit over baked)

     Saturday morning, I was exhausted. I had to take Henry to the hospital after he had trouble breathing during gymnastics on Wednesday. It turned out he had strep and pneumonia. 

 (Henry waiting at the hospital in Mt. Vernon)
 

    As a result, he’d been teary and needy and had quite a bit of trouble sleeping. A mother’s work is never done and all, I got up and realized that after three days of unexpected confinement I was out of the essentials, chicken feed, alfalfa pellets and coffee. I would have resort again to my emergency stash, the three-year old Costco-size can of Yuban™ Tom bought for some work camping trip. In my haze I accidentally grabbed the can of Crisco™.

    “That might taste better than the Yuban™,” Mike laughed over the phone. “I’ll bring some coffee today when I drive up”. Mike as usual was coming up for the holiday weekend.

    Properly caffeinated I pulled out my decorating tips, laid out my new non-stick “fondant mat”, selected a rolling pin and took my tangerine, sky blue, leaf green, lemon yellow, rose and jet black food colorings out of the cupboard. The first step was to prepare some butter cream icing. I added just a splash of almond extract for some zing. The butter cream icing is like mastic when tiling. You slather a thin layer on the cookie before applying the fondant; otherwise the fondant would slide right off.

    To color the fondant, I learned you take toothpicks with food coloring and knead it into the “dough”. The color slabs are then rolled out quite easily and cut with the same cookie cutter used to make the actual cookie, creating the perfect fit. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I did not expect it to be as effortless as it turned out. There was one casualty; however, one of the bunnies did have ear damage. Calmly I performed triage. Turning the bunny over I took some butter cream frosting and asliver of fondant creating a bandage of sorts.

  (Bunny cookie with butter cream icing and fondant ready to go)

 (Blue bunny!- albeit a little bumpy)

 

 (Luther reprising his role as the the Easter Basset)

 (Miracle had her own set)

 
 

 (getting tricky - mixing fondant colors)

 (creating one piece)

 (cookie shapes cut)
 
  (Gnatalie)

 

    Once all the cookies were covered with their first two coats of icing, it was time to make the third in the trifecta, the royal icing, for the details. The finishing touch. I began with the flowers. They were my least favorite cookies for some reason and I decided to make my mistakes there, perfecting my icing flow before moving on to my favorites, the baby geese.

  (Baby geese in progress)

 (getting there)

 (Icing tools)
 

    I even got tricky – making little balls of fondant and mixing colors, creating “decorated” eggs. With newfound confidence I really went nuts creating bunny necklaces using one of my fancy-dancy decorating tips. Not being able to leave well enough alone I added centers to the little bunny necklaces. I assessed the cookies. I was pleased. I didn’t know if they’d taste any good, but they did look cute. The kitchen on the other hand was a disaster, Mike was arriving and we had to get ready for church. Hurriedly, I rinsed everything off and ran the dishwasher. Then so I could give them to Lisa after Mass, I carefully layered the cookies in some tissue I had in the Harry Potter room under the stairs. Throwing a touch of ribbon around the outside of the plastic case I finished and got ready for church just in the nick of time.

 (baby geese - done)

 (ready for packing)

    Lisa called in the morning as she does every Easter. I answered the phone, “He is Risen!” She said as she does every Easter. “You heard me! And my those bunny necklaces! You really out did yourself,” she gushed and I swelled with pride. Those bunny necklaces really were something. “How did you get everything so smooth?” She asked.

    “That is fondant.” I explained.

 

 (courtesy of Chris - LIsa & Phoebe at their house having Easter cookies)

March 4th Bugged

 (On our way to town we saw two eagles looking for their morning meal in the South Fork Valley - )

     Grumbling, I sat waiting in front of the Harris Café for about twenty-minutes before I ventured inside. I was meeting my dad and sister for breakfast and I had hoped to be done and get back to work on my apple trees before 10:00. Lisa was driving and I absolutely knew my she would be late, she’s always late except for work, but that’s only because of some promise to God she made a thousand years ago. She hadn’t spoken to Him on my behalf. Forever a fool and a perhaps a glutton for punishment I got there early and called my dad’s temporary U.S. cell phone.

    “Are you two almost here?” I asked hopefully.

    “You know your sister we haven’t even left yet, she’s doing some @^& *$%# thing with Phoebe’s hair,” he practically wailed.

    “OK, then. I’m here,” I sighed snapping the phone closed with attitude before scanning the sunny yellow room for a table. I spied a sun-drenched table for two in the window and boldly pulled over another chair. This was just what the doctor ordered, a nice dose of vitamin d. I sank into the chair and nodded gratefully to the smiling waitress who asked me if I’d like some coffee. Once again, I was waiting, my mind racing as I soaked in the warm sunshine in the bustling cafe.

 (butterfly - mixed media)
 

    I looked around and noticed a painting on the wall. Tom came to mind; he’s been falling behind on his painting. Mental note: gentle reminder or nag Tom if necessary. I thought about him mixing mediums like the painting on the wall and wondered if he should paint on some of our old barn wood. I took another relaxing sip of coffee and thought about my dad. The reason we were coming together. He was leaving, going back to Paris for another year. It was strange really, this annual visit. I’d imagined it a lot differently. I thought he’d come out to the farm and help me with some of my more difficult projects. Help me with the cattle and clean the barn. I saw us fixing dinner and chatting over a glass of wine, but that’s not exactly how it went. He was at Lisa’s most of the time. No hard feelings, she’s closer to town, which means he can go and listen to his friends and sit-in for a number or two and he gets gigs. –  The funny thing is he never ever calls when he’s in France. Lisa and I told ourselves this is because of his bad hearing. Not so. When he’s here he calls France as many as three times a day. C’est la vie.

     My mind wandered to Henry and Grandpa Horn. My dad had taken it fairly well, when Henry said he wanted to switch instruments. My dad had even generously suggested Henry rent one of his horns to another kid in the bad to pay for the oboe rental. My dad’s an ex-Catholic and no saint. He did his best to help Henry see the light. “There’s nothing for an oboe to play anyway. You’ll sound like a snake charmer,” and the like. But to Henry’s credit, he stood up to the old man. Which my father did like and thus began fondly calling him, “Oboe One”.  I smiled to myself at the rebellion. My father loved that part even if he didn’t like the oboe. “You’ve got to like what you play or you won’t practice. Why you’d like the oboe over the horn, any horn, I don’t know.” He persisted affably.

 (Grandpa horn still sporting his surgical bandage)
 

 (Comparing lion paws)

 (Oboe One and Grandpa Horn)
 
     I took another gulp of coffee after the server slogged it full. It was hot, hot, hot. I loved it. I considered taking off my jacket now that the morning sun was baking through the window. I leaned closer to the glass careful not to touch it lest I feel the chill of the Spring air. My eyes fell on a bug. It was a brown innocuous bug. Neither a mosquito nor a fly. Obviously it was no ladybug. Entranced by the bug tapping on the glass I stared at it wondering if it would find it’s way out. It could see the green leaves and blossoms on the trees. It felt the sunshine and wanted to go out and live. Instead it was stuck behind glass. It was safe. There was plenty of food and water in here. He didn’t have to do anything. I bet hundreds of his brothers and sisters wanted him to stay close to town and not struggle so hard, but my little bug wanted something different. It wanted to take chances and feel the danger. It wanted out and I felt it was my sole responsibility to liberate my brown buddy.

    I remembered I had a caramel-colored coffee cup in my purse – for emergencies- you never know when you’re going to have to scoop something or be offered a cup of something. The farm equivalent of the sleuth’s hairpin for picking locks. I unsnapped the strap and opened my chocolate leather bag pulling out the cup Awesomez had given me with FARM GIRL printed across it. Carefully, I tried to trap my new friend, a kindred spirit. He didn’t want my brand of help, he knew in his heart he should be able to do it on his own. He felt inferior with this Gulliver coming to his rescue. Obstinate he was. I had to stop trying to save him, because he simply kept thwarting my efforts. I didn’t want to smash his tiny legs and then he moved into the perfect position. I slapped the cup right over the top of him, slid my menu between the cup and the glass and transported him to freedom. I watched him flutter away and land in a tree. Silly, I was euphoric as I went back to my seat.

I considered taking off my jacket again, but had another cup of coffee instead as I sat there waiting, happily.

 (blinded by the light)

 (Lisa catching up)

 (Same Time Next Year- Denise, Daddy and Little Lisa)
 
 
 

 

 

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...

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 -)
 

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)

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)

July 16th Without A Paddle

   

(Deli - proof only mad dogs and Englishmen)

    It was one of those still mornings when you can feel the heat on your skin and you just know the day is going to be hellish hot. As part of our fun activities we had planned to go whale watching and spend a gloriously sunny day relaxing on a boat cruising the stunning San Juans looking for orca. Unfortunately, on the only day the cruise ran, I had to work and I mean I had to work. Jeff was expecting a slew of travel writers on Friday who were doing a press junket and they wanted to feature the Everybody’s Store. He needed all hands on deck.

    As a fallback, June, Awesomez and I decided to take the kids tubing down the Nooksack River with my sister. Tom although an enthusiastic tuber, decided a man’s place was in the chicken coop close to his Skilsaw™ and opted-out as he wanted to build another door before he his time was up and he had to return to real life in California.

(Pea almost always working)

    In preparation for the trip Henry counted tubes, while Quinn counted life jackets. The river is only inches deep in some places, but my sister and I are fiercely safety conscious, subscribing to the belief that if someone gets in trouble, you can’t help them if you’re exhausted. And there’s always the possibility you could hit your head. This seems nuts to most and hardly a tuber is seen with a life jacket, and it’s often a battle to get some adults to wear their life preserver. Awesomez was no exception. I got the whole I-used-to-swim-competitively-speech in Wal-Mart as I grabbed a couple of little life vests to stuff Lindsey and Henry in.

    Outside The Acme General Store Henry inflated the tubes and the rest of the kids lounged on a bench in the shade. In a group our size everything takes longer, getting snacks, sunglasses, shoes, sunscreen and towels in the right tube, on the right person or situated in the right car. Awesomez and I went and deposited the my sister’s van on Strand Road, only a couple of miles away, but about a three hour float.
It was getting later than I liked. We were putting in at almost 3:45PM, but it was hot, hot, hot and we’d be done by 7:00PM so I didn’t really worry, as it doesn’t get dark until 9:30PM or so.

    “Lisa, I don’t need one if we don’t have enough” Awesomez offered.

    “Lisa, this isn’t a swimming pool there are obstacles and things that can happen” my sister said unyielding. “We have enough life jackets as, Tom isn’t here,” she stated as we trudged down to the riverbank. I smiled to myself as I noticed Awesomez’ lifejacket wasn’t fastened. Knowing her rebellious nature and the fact that she's my big sister, I didn’t push her, at least she had it on. I considered that a win.

(June, Carly and Quinn ready for fun)

(Lindsey not so sure)

(Nickie ready to tube!)

(Henry walking to the river)

(Henry posing a chip off the old Robert's block- thank God)

(Carly getting in her tube)

    From the moment we got in the river June transformed into a bubbly Esther Williams. She paddled and splashed laughed and twirled her tube singing a happy song. While Lindsey on the other hand, did not meet Old Man River with the same excitement. She was in a snit from the moment her toes touched the alpine stream. She sat there in the middle of her tube motionless pouting.

(starting out - note my bar on the far right - )

    “I can’t do it. I’m not big enough,” she complained. June looked at me and rolled her eyes.

    “Linds, you're thirteen, Phoebe is eight, and shorter than you, she’s doing it. C’mon you’re a swimmer” I called over my shoulder as the current took me and the floating bar tethered to my tube merrily along.

    “I can’t!” She screamed in a voice that set my teeth on edge.

    “Then roll over on your tummy and kick,” I suggested.

    “Yeah, roll over Lily-Pop and kick” June chimed as she bounced along.

    “I can’t!” Lindsey screamed again with a scowl on her face. Mama Awesomez took over and, waded back to help Lindsey.

    “Just don’t talk to her,” Awesomez suggested as she splashed by. I gladly complied remembering my early angst ridden teen years where everything was horrible and no one understood me, including myself.
The rest of the floaters, Henry, Nick, Quinn, Phoebe, Carly and Lisa were scattered about the river laughter streaming behind them like ribbons in the water.  June had gotten out of her tube to blow it up and accidently let a good deal of air out. The opening was quite large and needed a conical shaped adapter to inflate it. She was stuck. Now she stood there in the middle of the river with a saggy tube.
“It’s OK I can still float on it” She said trying to make the best of it, but gone was the lilt in her cheery voice. I grabbed the tube folded the plastic back and began to blow, and blow and blow and blow. I wanted Esther Williams back.

    When the tube was properly inflated June simply looked at me and said “Impressive” followed by a few giggles and well, OK there were a few other comments, I will leave up to the gentle reader’s imagination. Anyway during this time my sister had gone around a bend in the river and gotten stuck on a downed tree jutting out horizontally across the water, half the branches were sticking up out of the water and the other half poking down into the river. She tried giving the thumbs down signal to the rest of the group to avoid this turn by getting out and walking around. Lindsey was the only one who saw the signal and got out. I did not. And got stuck, but was able to free the mini bar and myself without spilling a drink. Awesomez did not see the signal either and followed me a bit distracted by Lindsey, wondering why her child was now exiting the river after she’d just gotten her going.

    A novice tuber Awesomez had little control of her tube initially andgot trapped under the tree. Struggling against the current to right herself as her asthma medication floated away. Awesomez who has serious asthma never goes anywhere, anywhere with out her inhaler. Trying to stay calm in light of the life threatening loss she pulled herself up just righting herself in time to see June and Phoebe who were now clipped together with a rope coming tumbling toward her. Seeing the rope knowing there was nothing she could do, she braced herself for the hit, she went down again. Exhausted and with out her shoes on she was beginning to get in trouble, when she was hit again by Quinn and then some guy, and then a blond woman with a pony tail who I could hear say callously “Don’t worry you didn’t hurt me” to Awesomez after she pushed her back into the tree once again. During this time by the grace of God, Phoebe found Awesomez’ medication.

    “The pack just floated right up to my foot and I grabbed it,” she explained with her sunshine smile.

    "The river giveth what the river taketh away" I said as she gave it to me. I beached my rig making my way back to the tree. When I got there a scared and exhausted Awesomez was struggling to keep her composure. She was caught under the tree again and trying to maintain her breathing. Quinn was wrapped around her and unsure how to get herself out.

    Nick worried too about his mother was right behind me. I climbed the tree and made my way over to the struggling pair while Nick was on the bank not far away. Quinn was still sitting in her tube, but Awesomez was barely above water caught on a branch of the tree.

    “Quinnie! Look at me! Put your feet above your head on the tree so you’re sitting in a “V’ then I’ll pull you out of the water and you can stand here on the tree. OK?”

    “Niece, I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough,” she sounded panicky.

    “No. You don’t have to, I’ll pull you, just put your feet there and hold on wrist to wrist so we don’t slip, just like your mother and I taught you we did in vaulting”.

    “I’ll try,” she said feebly. Putting her feet up. I grabbed my sister’s child with all my strength and up that oversized beanpole came.

    “Now, jump off the tree into that spot right there where it’s deep and Nick will help you get to the edge Right Nick?”

    “Right” Nick responded dutifully. “Over here Quinn” he encouraged retrieving her tube I’d already tossed. Splash! In she went. One down.
Now for Awesomez. “Lisie, I’m going to get you out.”

    “I’m hurt and I’m so tired and my inhaler is gone,” she told me so I’d know the whole picture.

    “No, Phoebe found your inhaler and shoes down stream so we have them don’t worry” I said gently trying to reassure her.

    “People keep hitting me, June and Phoebe and this rope. I went over the rope and under the tree,” she said looking exhausted and depleted.

    “I know I could see from where I was, that’s why I’m here. Who thought I’d be helping you” I tried t make light of the situation. “Now I want you to do just like Quinn did. I’ll pull you up”

    “I’m too far below you, I can’t even reach your hand. I’m going to have to get up on one of these branches,” she said and I agreed, as she was all but submerged and tangled in a mass of branches. Watching her I could see the fear in her eyes, slowly and carefully she pulled herself up onto a branch just beneath the surface of the water, once there I was able to get her to the top of the tree.

    “Now you’re going to have to jump back into the water,” I commanded authoritatively.

    “What? I don’t want to” she resisted.

    “You have to, it’s the only way. You’ll be all right, Nick’s there he’ll help you”.

    “I’m here Mama” Nick assured her.

    “OK Son” she called back, “but I’m not jumping. Can’t I just lower myself in?”

    “Sure, but I think you might hit more branches and it’ll take more strength. You look exhausted,” I said.

    “I am,” she returned as she sank into the water again.

    That disaster behind us we regrouped on the banks of the river. Awesomez depleted both physically and emotionally sat in her tube quietly for most of the afternoon.

    “Awesomez, you look dead” Carly was heard to say each and every time she floated by Awesomez.
“Really, you look dead. Did you really go over the rope and under the tree?” She’d ask in naïve amazement, forcing a reluctant Awesomez relive the ordeal over and over again.

    The rest of the afternoon went on mostly without incident except for the Phoebe ordeal. Phoebe after rescuing the inhaler got in trouble again with the rope clipping her to June. June went around a rock and fell out of her tube while Phoebe and the rest of the rope could not. Phoebe now stuck in deep water alone couldn’t un-hook the clip and Lisa was some distance away while I was still helping Awesomez. Henry seeing Phoebe was in trouble leapt from his tube and swam against the current pulling himself hand over hand on the rope until he reached his cousin. He couldn’t unclip the tube either, but stayed with Pheebes comforting her until Lisa could get there. Phoebe was beyond grateful to her hero, Henry.

(Nick floatin' along)

(Henry enjoying the float)

(Lisa relaxing)

(Our happy tubers on the Nooksack with Mt. Baker in the distance)

    We now bounced along singing and chatting. June sporting her floppy hat was enjoying herself so much Carly asked her on more than one occasion if she was drunk.

    “No I’m not drunk silly, I’m just carefree and having a gosh darn good time as river-rat Barbie” June explained to her niece who usually sees her dressed to the nines full of responsibility with her big job. Just then we heard a scream.

    “Was that laughing or crying?” I wondered aloud.

    “I think it was laughing,” June guessed and floated on. I didn’t think so. It was Quinn and she was with Awesomez.  If there ever was a pair destined for trouble it was them, “Klutz and Klutzier”. Too far downstream to help, I waited and watched from a distance.

     Quinn had veered to the left and gotten stuck on another tree. Tumbling out of her tube she was then caught on and scraped by an unseen branch causing her to scream bloody murder. Seeing the fear emblazoned on Quinn’s face Awesomez reflexively jumped out of her tube, and went to rescue Quinn from the treacherous branches below the surface - thanks to help of her life jacket they both made it out in a relatively short time. From their faces, I’m not sure who was more frightened, but somehow they managed escaping a little worse for wear.

    While Quinn and Awesomez seemed to be riding the rapids from hell, the rest of us floated merrily along. Phoebe and June navigated the twists and turns relatively carefree and Lindsey bobbled about enjoying the ride. Nick and Henry were in their own boy world talking about who knows what, but having fun nonetheless. I sipped my libation and scooted betwixt and between them all serving up refreshments when the mood struck me. When you’re the bartender, everyone wants to be your friend. Although, I could hear a parched Awesomez hollering “You’re the worst bartender ever!” from way upstream at me because I wasn't attending to the stragglers. She was laying like something dead in her tube according to Carly.

(Lindsey Rose and June)

(Quinn floating by)

(Nick and Mama Awesomez)

    The sun began to wan as we continued to float and suddenly it seemed to be getting a lot cooler which is what I’d been afraid putting in so late. We kept looking for the beach at Strand Road, but with the extreme weather last winter and now the extreme heat lowering the water levels everything looked a lot different. I realized I should have walked down to the banks and looked for some kind of marker like I did last year with Tom, but in my haste to get everyone going I hadn’t. I was kicking myself now as the kids started ask “how much longer?” I really didn’t know the answer. I didn’t have my watch on. We kept stopping and looking then continuing on. We’d seen some floaters earlier who said they were going to the bridge, but that was all the way at Potter Road by the Everybody’s Store and we weren’t going that far that was about a five hour float.

    The light was sinking fast and we were now the only ones on the river. I knew we were lost. June still enjoying herself kept singing “…set sail that day for a three hour tour, a three hour tour. The weather started getting rough…” and Henry’s lips were eggplant and he was shivering like a Chihuahua. Of all people, Lindsey turned out to be a real trooper and kept on going without a word. Awesomez was done before she started and was just enduring the experience, Quinn was over the whole thing and my sister and I were feeling the strain of responsibility. Exchanging knowing looks as we eyed the banks. We figured, worst-case scenario we’d climb the banks and plow through someone’s cornfield. As the last of the light slipped from the sky we came around a bend in the river to reveal a bridge.

    “A bridge, the bridge! We’re here!” Nick cried and everyone was relieved, except Lisa and me.
“Bridge? There is no bridge at Strand Road” I said softly.

    “I don’t remember one either” she said. 

"That's because there isn't  one" I said.

(The bridge)

 Cold and hungry we all got out of our tubes and began looking for a way up. Awesomez and my sister trekked through a narrow passage with a few of the kids and found their way to the bridge first. Nick came back for the rest of us. Once on the bridge, I knew we had gone all the way to Potter Road. By the time we got there Awesomez explained they’d hailed down a guy in a tie-dyed t-shirt on a Harley and Lisa was now hitching a ride to her van on Strand Road.

    “At least she’s on a motorcycle it’s less likely he’ll stop and kill her,” Henry said hopefully. I hadn’t seen the man and for a moment, fear gripped my heart. Lisa and I have seen our share of evil, but I knew my sister was not a foolish risk taker, so I tried to remain calm, although riding a motorcycle, soaking wet with no protection was scary enough. At least Harley riders had some sense.

    Moments later, the grey-haired motorcycle man pulled up “You must be our Knight in Shining Armor!” I called.

    “Hey there, I think I scared that mama to death, but she’s on her way back with the van” the man said.

    “Where you all from?” He asked.

    “California, Mammoth” Awesomez responded.

    “Well, you’re no city girl” he answered back.

    “Bellingham” Quinn answered and he nodded.

    “Mosquito Lake Road,” I said, “I work at the Everybody’s Store,” I added.

    “I’m Jim Abernathy”

    “Oh my gosh! Jim Abernathy! I’ve read you’re flyers, you’re heading up all the local meetings about the thefts recently aren’t you?”

    “Yeah, that’s me. I’ve known Jeff a long time but I sure as hell wouldn’t work for him,” he said with a smile.  I smiled at this.

    “Amy makes it easy” I said and he smiled knowingly. We spent the next few minutes thanking our hero for taking the time to stop.

(The rescue! Carly, Lindsey, Awesomez, Lisa. Jim Abernathy, Quinn, Phoebe, June and Nick)

    When we finally got home a worried Tom had the Hummer keys in hand and was just about to go look for us. Wonderfully, he’d barbecued his spectacular tri-tip ready which had been ready for over an hour, baked potatoes were in the oven and watermelon sat on the counter cutup and ready to eat. Descending on the food like vultures no one spoke until the food was completely gone.

    “Now Denise, I’m going to need that nice Jim Abernathy’s address so I can send him a proper thank you note for rescuing us” June chirped as she poured Awesomez another medicinal glass of Pinot to soothe her injuries. “I had such a good time today” she cooed.

    “I know, you really did” Awesomez said trying to smile through her obvious pain. Her blood red and purple bruises now quite visible, “It was fun to watch you like that again”.

    “I felt so free” June agreed.

    “I thought she was drunk and you were dead,” Carly said completely deadpan again.

    “Well, if everything had gone as planned it wouldn’t have been such an adventure” Quinn said. That's my girl.

June 6th After Midnight

(Deli subscribes to the philosophy: treat your family like company)

    Sensing something as I lay warm in bed I opened my eyes to see Henry’s smiling upside down face about three inches away. “It’s My Birthday!” He sang.

    “So it is" I said groggily noting it was only 4:30 in the morning. Tom rolled over.

“Happy Birthday now go back to bed. Take Alvin and Bruno and go back to sleep before we throw your presents in the trash and cancel your barbecue.” Wisely Henry showed new maturity and did as instructed.

    After the presentation of a few gifts, and while preparing the coffee, Tom turned to me and bemoaned, “With all we have to do to get ready for this afternoon, what really need is Phoebe’s help. She’s the only one of the three who has the stick-to-it-ness to get things done.”

    “Maybe Henry will now that he’s older?” I said unconvincingly. Tom peered at me raising an eyebrow.
“You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. But I do have to say I’m not being completely fair. He did a great job helping me this week. I was surprised. He stayed with me most of the time and didn’t squirrel around the way he used to.”

    Once Tom and I had infused ourselves with the requisite caffeine we got on with the birthday barbecue preparations. I cleaned the house, while Tom finished hanging his new barn doors. Then he and Henry tidied up the yard and started to prepare the pavilion for the festivities. During the chaos, Nancy Campbell and her husband arrived to pick up Alfred, Matilda and one of Clara's babies. We quickly caught them, put them in the carriers Nancy brought and barely said good-bye because of everything else going on. I felt terrible, like I was selling part of myself. I knew I'd made up my mind to do it, it was the right thing for all of us and I knew Nancy was a wonderful bird owner. She has heritage turkeys, chickens and ducks, so these three were a natural. I'd planned to give her Alfred as he is genetically a beautiful gander, I wanted Matilda, his mate to go for company, but she's not a breeder with her angel wing condition so I sent one of the babies. Telling myself it was the right thing over and over didn't make me feel any better and I was glad we were busy getting ready for the party.

    Lisa arrived early with Phoebe in tow to help. Immediately I sent Phoebe to the pond with Henry and Tom.

    “Pheeb, they need help. Make it kinda girly. Put the tablecloths on and fix it like we’re having a party you know.” She nodded.

    “I get it. You don’t want the chips served in a ripped bag.” She did get it. I love her.

    While Phoebe went off to supervise Henry and Tom, Lisa did everything else, from preparing ears of corn for the grill to making my sangria recipe and cleaning the guest bathroom while I showered. Once all was ready, we waited. And waited and waited.

    The guests were supposed to arrive at 4:00PM and at 5:30 PM we started to worry. I hoped this wasn’t going to be a disaster. We only had one kid so far, if no one else came that would be enough I hoped. Then thankfully, three carloads pulled in almost at once.

    Concerned we hadn’t taken care of the bee hive before the rest of the guests arrived I told the kids they might want to go to the pond while Henry took care of some bee business. The kids and their parents had other plans. They all were fascinated by the bees and wanted to every moment. As it turned out Mike’s search for Regina, the renegade queen became the evening’s entertainment. The search went on for sometime, then Beekeeper Mike discovered an irregular egg-laying pattern on one of the trays, “She’s been laying way too drones. The hive knows this means she’s leaving and that the hive will die so the bees might have killed her or she left.”

(Beekeeper Mike lifts the lid of the hive without any attacks - pictured with his dog, Ginger, while giving Henry a taste of Sweet Ass Honey)

(Henry (in his birthday suit from Grandpa Horn) -and Beekeeper Mike  hunt the evil queen, Regina - while Tom looks on at a safe distance)

    “Long live the queen!” Was heard from one of the parents as Henry handed the kids a drone.
“It’s OK drones don’t have stingers.” Henry reassured the leery but curious boys. Soon the drone was named Moo-hammed and was the best loved bee that’s ever been. Moo-hammed was walking from hand to hand enjoying his newfound status.

    Meanwhile back at the hive, Glinda, the new queen Mike and Donna had brought, was inserted into the hive still inside her queen-cage with a marshmallow cork for the drones to eat through, just like when we inserted Regina. “In a day or two, Henry will come out here again and make sure she’s free. By that time her pheromones will be throughout the hive and they will accept her as their queen.” Mike informed the wide-eyed crowd while Henry collected Moo-hammed and returned him unharmed to the hive.
(Warren, Phoebe, Henry, Teddy and Parker are shown Glinda, the new queen, by Donna)

    At the barbecue, I served sangria and Tom grilled hamburgers, while Warren, an orthopedic doctor and father to Noah, utilized his surgical skills on the onions. The adults dipped into the guacamole while kids played basketball, did yo-yo tricks and discovered the warm water of the pond.

(a little jungle ball)

    “Denise you know you don’t have to plant flowers, you have enough forage on your property with the blackberries, maples and salmon berries there’s enough in fact, for a bee farm.” Beekeeper Mike remarked. “Would you like to put more hives up here?”

    “I’d love it, but right now, we just don’t have the money.” I stated pretty matter-of-factly.

    “Oh no you don’t understand. I have ten hives I’d like to bring up here and I’ll split the honey with you. Then there’ll be more of Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey,” he said with a grin.”

    “That sounds wonderful! We’d love it! Pea! We’re getting ten more hives!” I exclaimed.

    “More hives? That sounds great,” Tom said looking up from the burgers, “but we can’t afford more hives.” Tom remarked ruefully. Beekeeper Mike explained the arrangement and got Tom on board with the program. “Hey, you never know. Maybe the bees are going to save us”. Tom said thoughtfully as he went back to the grill. Henry started doing his business projections.

(Tom working the grill)

(Tom gets the full explanation from Beekeeper Mike)

(Henry and Parker - do their Lord of the Flies imitation)

(Noah, Parker, Justin & Henry)

    “How many pounds of honey per hive Mike?” Henry queried. “And we get half? Nice!” Henry affirmed.

    By now, it was late and we hadn’t even served the ice cream cake yet. Phoebe and I hopped in the van and zoomed back to the house. When we saw the sheep out in the pasture, the donkey on the hill and the goats in my garden we were momentarily confused. Realizing someone had forgotten to close the gate we jumped out and started wrangling the menagerie back to their proper places. “Denise I don’t know how to tell you this,” Phoebe said, but the cows are the ones who knocked your garden fence down that’s why the goats got in.”

    “You’re kidding.”

    “No. Henry told me. He said they were tromping in the garden and he and Tom had to get them out,” Phoebe elaborated as Rachel nibbled on my prize blueberry bush hopes of summer cobbler disappearing as Christina gorged on a plant next to her mother.

    "Really?"

    "Henry said he found a big frickin' cow print in the middle of the carrot row." She confided.

    “Get out of my garden you mangy goats!” I screamed a blood curdling scream as I ran pelmel toward them waving my arms with maniacal fury. I can barely grow a weed in this garden and here they were eating what little I had.  You could practically hear the circus music as Phoebe and I ran around trying to outwit the wily goats who had tasted Nirvana and had no intentions of giving up without a fight. We circled and chased, dove and grabbed and finally with teamwork and some luck, Phoebe and I emerged triumphant. However, this was just one skirmish, I knew there would be many more battles in the blueberry wars.

    Hearts pumping, cake in hand we returned to sing Happy Birthday and finish the barbecue; the last of our guests bidding us good night at about 10:30P.M.

(Henry opening a present)
(Chris got Henry "throwing knives" so he won't steal my steak knives anymore)

(Phoebe with hamburger ice cream cake)

    As I was recounting the day’s events with Tom and putting away the dishes, Henry padded in the kitchen.“Mama, that was the best birthday I could have asked for” he said with gratitude. “I think my friends really liked it here. Who would have ever thought a drone could provide so much entertainment? And now we’re getting more hives. Hey, maybe, maybe just maybe we’ll get some Midnights! Remember those are supposed to be the gentlest bees ever! Wouldn’t that be cool? .” Henry said way over-the-top excited as his yo-yo went up and down mindlessly. I looked over at Tom who was smiling.

    “You know you’re a bee geek right?” I said happily shooing him out of the kitchen as his yo-yo went flying.

June 1st A Royal Pain

   

(lilies in our yard)

     My dad wrote me from Paris using some colorful language and some strong “French” insisiting I acquire some proper clothing for dealing with the bees. His treat, for Henry’s birthday.

    We’d planned to go down to Cedar Bees when Henry could go, but Beekeeper Mike had some scheduling conflicts and just couldn’t do it until today.  Before my father's explicit instructions on bee-wear we had needed to go down to Ceder Bees anyway to get our next bee box. This allows the bees to store more honey for the winter.The honey Henry collects won't be until we get the third box with a queen bee excluder. This means the queen can't get in at all because of her size so the honey is just honey without any bee eggs. Which is nice.

    Tom and I took off around noon on another 97 degree day and got there just as his wife Donna was trying to overnight some queen bees.  She filled out shipping labels while we discussed different combinations of clothing options. We could get one Wee-Bee suit for Henry and me to share or two bee suits in case he needed some one to go with him on occasion.

    After an obscure shopping spree where I tried on nothing but white ill-fitting, water-resistant outfits we ended up with two selections. One “Wee-Bee suit” for Henry and me to share and one bee jacket with attached facemask that will fit both Tom and me. The extra fabric doesn’t endanger me and this allows Tom to go too.

(Tim (who also raises worms) wearing the mask just to protect his face from examining tray after tray of bees)

    What puzzled me as we were deciding on our ensemble is how the guys (friends of Dan’s from the airplane), Wally and Tim, working the bees, making the boxes and inspecting the hives were both wearing shorts. Shorts! And they weren’t getting stung.  They were not covered head to toe like they worked for HASMAT. Beekeeper Mike walked in just as we were making our final selections and we all told him of our bee problem.

    “I don’t know, maybe we’re doing something wrong, but whenever we go to feed them they fly up in our faces. Henry’s been stung on the lip and side and the back. They flew up my pant leg and frankly we’re more than a little nervous now. They don’t act like your bees at all,” I said despondently.

    “Sounds like you have a real bitch,” Mike said after listening.

    “Yep. That’s what I thought,” Donna concurred.

(bright colored bee looks different because it is covered in pollen)

    “What?” Tom asked. “I guess they’re sophisticated societies and have personalities.”

    “Yep, and if the queen’s a bitch they all have her DNA and then they all are just like her,” Mike explained. “I have one hive like that out of all my hives. I really should kill her, but she lays so many eggs and that hive makes so much honey I let it go. I dread going out there though it’s like a horror movie.”

    “Yep, that’s what we’ve got. They follow us down the hill and won’t leave us alone,” I agreed happy this was not unexplainable. This was a thing.

    “So now what?” Tom asked. “What do we do?”

    “Well, you have to kill the queen.” He said casually.

    “We have to kill the queen?” I asked in disbelief wondering how the heck we were going to do that when we couldn’t even change the feeder.

    “No, we’re going to have to come up and do it. Although we can’t do it until later in the week because Mike has chemo on Tuesday and then we're driving to Easter Washington to deliver some bees.” Donna explained to us.

    “We live about an hour away.” I said shocked they would consider coming up to our house to help us.

    “Mike loves to help young beekeepers and we don’t want Henry to be afraid of his hive.” Donna said as she finished her labels.

    “Well, then what about Saturday, so Henry can be there and then you can stay for a barbecue. It's Henry's birthday he's turning twelve.” I said hopefully.

    “That way you don’t have to turn around and go home,” Tom continued to encourage.

    “Sounds great!” Mike agreed readily. “You don’t have to twist my arm.”
(Our bee feeder has been in the wrong place from day one)

(Tom looking for a queen)

    We stayed long enough get some instruction, watch Tim inspect a few hives and for Tom to get stung in the face. “It doesn’t hurt too much, I was leaning in to the hive with my whole body. I can’t remember the last time I got stung,”

    “I can.” I said flatly.

    On the way home, we stopped at Home Depot™ and I called Awesomez to tell her about what we'd learned, only I felt a little self-conscious saying "they're coming over on Saturday to kill her".

After pricing belt sander rentals I called my sister to see if she could find their sander. We have one, but it’s at Tom’s in Ventura.

    “Hey do you know where the sander is Chris accused me of having for a millennium and then found in your garage?”

    “I remember it, but I have no idea where it is. You need it?” Lisa asked.

    “Yeah, I will when I sand the porch after I finish the eaves.”

    “Your welcome to look for it.  I’ll ask Chris, he just cleaned the garage so he might know where it is.”

    “Can you send me those pictures of the chicken coop you took the other day?”

    “Sure, but I don’t know how.” Lisa moaned.

    “That’s OK, hold on, Tom has a question about the chicken coop.”

    “Hey” Tom greeted.

    “Hey Tom,” Lisa acknowledged. “I could just tell you what I saw and then you could ask me questions.” Lisa suggested.

    “Well, I really just have one question. You see, I built a row of nesting boxes and they’re about two feet off the ground.” Tom paused.

    “That’s just like what I saw, they look like bookcases.”

    “Yeah, now I want to know, do they hop up there or do they need a ladder?” Tom puzzled.
“
    Well, they don’t need an elaborate ladder.”

    “No I know, I was just…”

    “You know? I thought perhaps you were going to build a little chicken elevator complete with a light for up and down.”

    “Yeah then I can teach them to eat the feed and it makes the lift raise. We could take them to the fair.”

    “Don’t forget to charge a quarter for the feed.” Lisa reminded.

    “Pea, tell Lisa about the coup.” I added.

    “Oh yeah, we have an evil bee queen and they’re coming out on Saturday to kill the queen.

     “What? Are they going to bring a little tiny guillotine?” Lisa chuckled.

    “Yeah, they’re going to bee-head her.” Tom laughed.

    When we got home, I went up the hill with the larger jacket outfit on and my jeans. After all, if Tim could wear shorts I could wear jeans. Wally had said they can't sting through your jeans. It didn't take me long to find out Wally was wrong. I had two more stingers lodged in my thigh. The same leg still recovering from the other five stings from last Monday. I limped down the hill to the barn where I flicked the stingers out and then tromped right back up again ready for combat. I was going to put that ding-dang feeder in the right place. However, I started to imagine they could get in even when logic dictated they couldn't. I felt frozen hoping they'd get bored and fly away. But they kept coming at me and one little witch followed me down the hill and wouldn't leave.

"Mom! swat her! Off with her head!" Henry cried. "Only God can save the queen now!"

May 25th The Best Laid Plans

   

(flowers outside my laundry room door)

    It was just another cup of coffee, coverall, can of paint kind of day. I spent the morning on top of a ladder painstakingly working on the eaves above the front porch. The ones I did not paint last year when I did the entire rest of the house because of my resident bats. A fairly large colony lives in a small crevice between my eaves. When you look up from the porch floor you can usually see their tiny toes hanging out and hear their little chirps. You do not want to put your coffee cup on the table too close to the house as it could end up being sprinkled with bat guano. It’s not a real problem you just have to scoot it forward. They don’t have much range. Bats are sensitive little creatures who keep to themselves and do not care for paint fumes so I try to be accommodating as they are helpful little guys who eat mosquitoes by the thousands.

(one coat of white on the eaves - the black started- temp light)

    Although there is no glory in painting eaves, they've got to be done, and everything was going according to schedule. If I kept up my current pace I would indeed be completely finished by dark. I was systematically going across the deck and working my way around. Of course, my arm was always above my head giving me an entirely new appreciation for the Sistine Chapel. These particular eves would require three coats. The first coat was sort of exciting as I could see a huge and immediate difference, but then as I watched the paint dry I could see it yellow and the color of the wood seep through. The second coat is harder to do emotionally. I put it on thick in hopes it will be enough knowing full well it won’t and ultimately I will have to do the entire ceiling for a third time.

    This was my lot in life as the holiday weekend ticked by. Toby had flown in earlier in the week to close escrow on her farm in Courtenay on Vancouver Island. She said it would take her two days to finish packing and then she thought she might visit for a day or so and we’d still have a week or more to spend together. That was on Wednesday and five days later she is nowhere near done, so I have Dean who is having a grand old time playing with Henry.

(Dean and Henry way, way up in a pine tree)

(Dean and Henry)

(Dean and Henry painting my flower garden fence in their drawers)

(Miracle is getting cozy with Henry)

(Miracle tries one of Dean's Cool Ranch Doritos™- and likes them)

(Miracle's nose on right wondering I suppose what Irish might have to eat)

    Today I told them was a workday because “a girl I know through a couple of my friends, Jackie and Gina, both know Rowan. She moved here from California with her daughter Pearl. They live in Everson a little town near Lynden.”

    “Isn’t that where the Black Forest restaurant is?” Henry asked.

    “Yes it is. I can’t believe you remember that. Anyway, they’re going to be coming by today. You guys can play with Pearl while Rowan and I make margaritas,” I explained as I outlined their chores. So they vacuumed the house, loaded the dishwasher did some laundry and were making themselves a well deserved lunch. Consequently, it was quiet outside while I worked with the exception of the cowbells jingle, jangling. Every once in awhile I’d look up to hear Nutsy, the woodpecker, rat-a-tat-tatting on the metal roof of the Kubota™ barn or to chat with Miracle as she tried to make friends with Irish. The geese were somewhere unseen only to be heard every once in a while as they scolded each other or ganged up on Luther. The goats sought refuge from the heat of the day under the house chewing their cud while the sheep decorated the lawn continuously mowing.

(Sheryl and Mildred grazing)

It was a picturesque day with a blue, blue sky and little white puffy clouds and green green grass. When I looked up I noticed that while all the sheep had their heads down only three of the four were eating. Apache was staring at the grass motionless while the others moved about. I watched him for a time and realized there was something seriously wrong. I called Andrea, the breeder I’d gotten him from and asked her what she thought. She suspected bloat, a gassy condition that can and is fatal much of the time in ruminants such as horses, cows, goats and sheep.

    “Can you see him now?” She asked.

    “No. Hold on a second, I’ll look out the door, I can’t find the cordless phone.” I said hurriedly as I set the phone down and ran out the door where Henry and Dean were keeping an eye on Apache.

    “Henry, where’s Apache?” I asked.

    “He’s right over there around the corner.”

    “How is he, Andrea wants to know if his left side is distended.”

    “Well, I don’t know what distended means, but he’s vomiting green frothy stuff. Look it’s falling out of his mouth,” Henry answered worriedly. I ran back in the house and relayed the information.

    “OK well, it sounds like frothy bloat. Are they on a new pasture?” Andrea wondered.

    “Well, they are, but I did it gradually and the others are all fine.” Hoping I hadn’t made some fatal error in judgment.

    “You can have just one who for whatever reason just bloats. Take a syringe. Do you have a large syringe?”

    “Yes.” I answered meekly.

    “Mix a cup of water, vegetable oil and three tablespoons of baking soda. When you have most of it down him then put a stick in his mouth cross ways like a bridle, so he bites on it. This will help him begin to burp.”

    “Got it,” I said as I obediently began mixing up the concoction. Remembering the syringe was in the barn I grabbed the turkey baster instead and headed out the door. I held Apache as Henry shoved the mixture down our patient’s throat and Dean held the bowl full of “medication”. Successfully getting most of it down his throat I inserted the stick and allowed him to bite down on it several times before releasing him.

    The three of us stood there watching. Apache scooted away from us as quickly as he could. Dazed and confused he was stumbling around trying to get his bearings when green frothy stuff started erupting out of his mouth again this time followed by blood.

    “Mom! He’s vomiting blood!” Henry shrieked.

    “Lots of it!” Dean yelled. Not knowing what else to do I called Andrea back again. She said it probably was frothy bloat and that he was probably not going to make it. I hung up. I knew vomiting blood was never good but I wasn’t giving up.

    “Henry, I’m going to call Kulshan, but I have to tell you, Andrea said it’s a strong possibility Apache’s not going to make it. You have to be prepared." I knew he was upset, near tears, but I turned my back and went into the house to call the vet. I would have to deal with him later. After twelve years of Cancer with my mother I know there is always time to get upset. Now was the time for saving the sheep if I could. I called Kulshan and left a message for the on call large animal doctor. After I hung up I dialed Lisa.

    “Can I call you back? I’m on the phone with Annie.” She asked naively.

    “NO! I’m sorry. You can’t call me back. I’m having a sheep emergency. Apache’s vomiting blood,” I blurted. “I can’t stay on the phone I have Kulshan calling me back."

    “I’ll get my keys and I’ll walk out the door,” She responded without hesitation. I knew she’d come if she could; we were always a team in a crisis.  We’d had a lot of practice.

    Almost immediately Dr. Potts from Kulshan returned my call. He was a kind understanding man who helped me through the entire assessment process. I described the chain of events that had led to my call and then he began asking me questions.

    “Do you have any Rhododendron?’

    “No. I removed all Rhododendron.”

    “Do you have Oleander?”

    “No.” I said remembering Henry being on the heart monitor at one year and ten days of age from putting Oleander in his mouth. “I don’t have any Oleander or Azaleas.”

    “OK, Do you have any dog or cat food he could have gotten into? Are there any rotting weeds or hay?” He asked patiently.

    “Well, I did pull some weeds and they’re in a pile from my flower garden, but they’re only a couple days old and not rotting yet. And no, I feed all the house animals inside.”

    “Good.” he said, “That’s the best and safest way to do it.” I felt twinge of pride. I was doing something right despite this catastrophe that was almost certainly my fault somehow. “I’d like you to go to the barn and check on a few things and call me back. I’d like you to take his rectal. The temperature on a sheep on a hot day like today should, is he shorn?”

    “Yes just last week,” I answered mater-of-factly.

    “Then his temperature should be I’m hoping for below 103 degrees. I want you to use your finger but don’t hurt his eye and determine if he’s blind. Feel just past his last rib before his hip on the left side to determine if it’s bloat.”

    “I’m sorry, but what would it feel like?”

    “Well, if there is normal roughage in there you’ll feel harder clumps. If it’s bloat you’ll feel it to be like a balloon. After you do all that, call me and we’ll see if you need to bring him in.”
Henry, Dean and I herded the sheep in the barn and began our exam on Apache.

    “It doesn’t look big and distended to me.” Henry said using his new word.
“To me either.” I concurred. Using a cotton ball, instead of my finger, and throwing it up in the air as I’d seen my sister do in a neurology class I tried to determine if Apache tracked the movement with his eyes rather than just felt the movement.

    “I can’t tell can you?” I solicited Henry’s opinion.

    “No. I can’t.” He said just as worried as I was. We let him up and watched him walk across the barn. He was stumbling like a drunk, but negotiated the silver hay bucket with out too much trouble as he crossed the barn. So we thought he could see, but then wondered if just knew where it was and could sense it.  I called Dr. Potts.

    “I can’t find my thermometer so my sister is stopping at Walgreens™ and buying one so I don’t know his temperature yet, but he isn’t distended, he feels normal. He acts drunk and spacey.”

    “Well, there is a bacteria they can get from rotting food that causes them to have a condition we call star gazing.”

    “I did see a bad bale of hay in the barn. Truthfully, he could have gotten some of it without me noticing it. I just don’t know. I wouldn’t rule it out.”

    “Hmm. Give him some hay and see if he’ll eat. Call me back when you know his temperature.” Dr. Potts instructed. I went back to the barn and fed the hay. Apache ate immediately while the others did not.

    “They’re probably full because they’ve been grazing.” Henry theorized. “Mom, if Apache dies where will we bury him?” Henry said softly.

    “Near the goslings.” I replied.

    “How will we dig such a big hole?’ He wondered pragmatically.

    “With the tractor.” I answered.He sat silently for a while and then not wanting to dwell on the topic, he and Dean went to the gate to wait for Lisa while I sat and waited with the sheep. Angus immediately sat down and began chewing his cud followed by Sheryl. Mildred stood looking at me wide-eyed wondering I’m sure what I was doing sitting in her stall. Apache sat down struggling to keep his eyes open then just giving in putting his head down on the floor. Moments later the cavalry rode up in the form of my sister and Phoebe. Ponytailed, with her baseball hat on Lisa wore a stethoscope around her neck. Her very presence calmed me. Without wasting time she tore open the thermometer and inserted it while I held Apache.

    “A hundred and one, a hundred and one point five, a hundred and two, a hundred and ooops he’s pooping. We’ll have to go again, but that’s a good sign, no blockage.”

    “Something’s happening in there. He peed too.”  I grasped for the positive.

    “Good. OK a hundred and two a hundred and two point five, six, seven, eight and nine.” The thermometer beeped. “Well, it’s under a hundred and three.” She said hopefully.  “I brought my Pugh sheep book.” She said as she listened to his stomachs, took his heart rate and in general checked all his clinical signs.

(Lisa's tools)

    “I thought you would.”

    “I actually had it in the car just in case.” It occurred to me how thoughtful that was for her to carry around a book about sheep and goats so she’d be prepared if I needed her.

    Lisa called Dr. Potts and they began their discussion using much medical terms he hadn’t used with me. He wanted her to check for any strabismus, which I learned, is a fixation of the pupil. “In Siamese cats it often presents as cross-eyed.” Lisa explained. We checked. She felt his eyesight was sufficient, she agreed there was no bloat and in general thought he was goofy and we were going to have to take him in. Lisa called Chris while I put a tarp and a furniture blanket in the back of the van and loaded up.

(Me and Apache - not our best day)

    “Rowan! I’ve got to call Rowan, she and Pearl are coming over.” I said frantically looking for her phone number to let her know we wouldn’t be here.

    “You had plans?” Lisa said looking at how I was dressed and covered in paint.

    “Yes. Rowan was just going to swing by for a chat and a margarita to mark the day. She lives in Everson.” I said with the mutual understanding that her living in out in the county completely forgave my appearance.

(Phoebe, Apache & Dean en route)

(Kulshan in Lynden - where Irish recovered last July)

    Dr. Potts drove up just as we did. There was another doctor already there. “Hi, I’m Amber” she said smiling. “How are you?”

    “I’ve been better.” I smiled shaking her outstretched hand. I was relived she didn't have a limp fish handshake as I was about to entrust her with my little lamb.

 

(Apache gets check out)

    “Well, let’s see what we can do.” She said and with that, Lisa, Dr. Potts and Amber began discussing, theorizing and talking in medical shorthand. While I listened garnering what I could from the conversation. They’d ask me a question and I’d see sideways glances I knew meant something, but wasn’t sure what.
It turned out he was anemic and the diagnosis was a suspected large parasite burden. “I think Apache here has a belly full of worms. Eighty percent of your parasites will be in twenty percent of your herd.” Amber explained. “I’ll check the fecal sample which will take a while longer, but I’m sure it’s going to come out high. But with some de-worming he should be fine. The good news is we can fix it.” She was the nicest, kindest person, so helpful and considerate, she made the experience a lot easier.

(Me with paint in my hair, Apache, Phoebe, Henry & Dean wait)

    We talked a while longer, and then Lisa and Phoebe headed home. On our way back through Everson I thought of Rowan and Pearl and our dashed plans. I wondered where they lived. It must be near here. Trying to drive as steadily as I could so Apache wouldn’t fall I checked my rear view mirror I and saw flashing lights. Hoping the K9 unit was on its way to an emergency I pulled over. It seems highway 9 drops from 50 miles an hour to 35 for a brief stint and I was doing 45 a steady. I got a ticket. I had no idea how I was going to tell Tom.

    While I was pulled over Amber called. “You got a ticket? No! So many of our veterinarians have gotten tickets there. They just sit and wait. You should fight it. Really. Anyway yep, the fecal came back and it’s way high. I stopped counting. Worm everyone in your barn once but worm Apache three days in a row. Keep them all in so you can clean up all the poop and remove it. In fact, you should pick up all the goat and sheep poop in your yard for the last two weeks.”

    “What? Do you know how much that is? It’s everywhere. In little holes, clumps of grass everywhere.”

    “It would be worth it.” She said before going to a barbecue at Dr. Potts’ house.

    I drove home thinking of how my two hundred dollar vet bill just got a lot more expensive. I’d go to court like she suggested. It’s all I could do now.  We got home and Alexis helped me de-worm everyone before closing up the barn for the night. Tired, I looked at the paint container with the brushes still in it sitting on the ladder. I'd barely gotten started. Grabbing the bucket I went in and began rinsing the brushes. I had one more call to make.

    “Hey Andrea, it’s Denise again. I just wanted to let you know what happened to Apache.” I said as I loosened the stiffened hairs of the brushes and I went on to explain what had happened.

    “Well, I’m so relieved. After I spoke with you I thought that if he died, I’d try and meet you in Ellensburg and give you another lamb. I know how much he means to the kids.”

    “That is so sweet of you. Thankfully, it’s not necessary today was a win.” I said tears coming to my eyes at how thoughtful a gesture that was.

    “Yes it was.”

    “The day didn’t go exactly as planned, but I thought the money I spent on vet bills I was going to have to spend on euthanasia so I consider myself lucky. Everyone’s alive.

    “I think that’s it.” She agreed. “On a farm death is just another part of life and if you think you’re in charge the animals and the elements will let you know otherwise. You do what they tell you to do.”

    “And they’re awfully bossy. Did I tell you the vet wanted me to pick up two weeks of goat and sheep poop?” I said amused

    “You’re kidding!” Andrea laughed uproariously. “She was kidding wasn’t she? She had to be."

    “No. She was completely serious. Can you imagine?” I said incredulously sharing a  conspiratal farm girl laugh releasing the tension of the day.

    “Well, she may treat them, but she never owned ‘em that’s impossible. You’d never be able to find them all.” She laughed again.

    “I know.I know.” I agreed.

May 15th Weighting For A Parade

   

(early attendees enjoy the sunshine)

    Henry shoved a permission slip in my hands a few weeks ago and said, “Sign this and I need $15.00 dollars. We’re going on a band field trip.” A dutiful parent I signed. As is usual with Henry, it was the last day to turn it in and despite my loud morning reminders about the importance of a prompt departure, we were making it to school by the skin of our teeth. So I really had no idea what I’d signed. The band field trip I’d learned yesterday was the Ski to Sea Junior Parade. The band meeting was a 2 hour dress rehearsal. All the middle school bands in Bellingham were combining to make a city middle school band and march in the parade.

    The annual Ski to Sea Challenge and the Junior version is a relay consisting of seven legs going from Mt. Baker to Bellingham Bay. It begins with 1. cross country 2. downhill / snowboard 3. running 4. biking 5. canoe 6. biking and finally 7. sea kayaking.

    To kick off the Ski to Sea Challenge and the Junior event there are barbecues, golf tournaments and sundry other celebrations including parades. So today I found a comfy seat on some sun soaked grass across from Bellingham High, donned my sunglasses, and waited for Lisa to join me. She was in constant phone contact trying to make it around blockades and barriers with Quinn who was not having a good day. In the interim I chatted with some Bellinghamsters and waited. It seems the Internet marked the start time as 5:00 P.M but the Bellingham Herald reported it as 6:00 P.M.

    I'd arrived at 4:30 so I'd be on time and really didn't mind the wait. I love a parade. Not all parades I suppose. I love the Rose Parade with it's intricate detail and I love the idea of wearing a uniform and belonging to a group. In high school I was on the drill team. My high school, Calabasas High, was brand new. When I got there as a freshman we only had 9th, 10th and 11th grades. We got to vote on the school colors, mascot and logo. Everyone it seemed wanted to be involved. I desperately wanted to be the cheerleader type, but just wasn’t. Those girls were much perkier, but undaunted I chose the drill team. A decision that lives in infamy.

(Ronald warms up the crowd)

    The drill team had to practice before school almost every morning and then our first class was P.E. so we could continue rehearsing. There were probably more than a hundred girls marching in unison learning to take 22 and a half-inch parade steps. It was fun. It was fun until we learned about the weigh in. Each Monday we were required to stand on a scale in front of everyone and see if our weight was acceptable. You were allowed five pounds for every inch above 5’. I was 5’2”, which meant I must weigh 110lbs. As a muscular girl and early developer I did not. Those who did not make it were deemed “The Fat Squad” and were not allowed to perform with the group on Fridays at pep rallies or anything else. On Fridays we had to wear our uniforms and go to the pep rallies just like everyone else. Here comes the humiliating part. The drill team would sit in the stands in a huge gold and brown stripe down the middle of the puberty riddled student body and then after the peppy cheerleaders and amazing song leaders it would rise to march down and take the shiny gym floor. It was at this moment when the space around the fat squad would become a vast wasteland of wooden bench seats. There’d we’d be, me, my friend from fourth grade, Catherine McDonald, Stacy Montgomery and about ten other girls that comprised our group. The stares, questions and jokes were at times the worst and most memorable of my life. Week after week we’d starve ourselves not to be part of that Friday humiliation. My mom hated the drill team and wanted our advisor fired. She ranted about discrimination, self-image and all kinds of women’s rights. She wanted to call the district and complain but like a fool, another name for embarrassed teenage girl, I continued to try and be a square peg in a round hole. I dieted, starved myself, spit and continued to weigh in. Occasionally I made it and felt a surge of pride. I actually thought I was going to get to march at Disneyland in the parade down Main Street. I’d made weigh in, my mom came and everything. However, at the eleventh hour we had one last weigh in and I was asked not to participate. I was crushed. I’d practiced and practiced, my parade steps were exact and my movements crisp.  I quit the drill team and ditched P.E. going to Howard Johnsons for the "Ham Quickie" breakfast with Catherine on Fridays.

    Once Lisa arrived, Quinn decided to stay in the car for undisclosed reasons, she bought us each non-fat lattes and we began chatting with an older woman who’d volunteered many years on the Tournament of Roses floats.

(Rose parade volunteer)

    “Did you work a lot with black pepper?” Lisa asked after hearing of a zebra construction. The woman clad in Pepto Bismol™ pinktold us application techniques for seaweed and how she used status, the way to hold a flower properly and extolled the amazing shading virtues one can achieve with different brands of coffee grounds. It seems she stayed in an RV on site and worked as many shifts as she could. We thought of our friend, Laura a master of the parade wave; she’d been one of the highly prestigious Rose Court, an actual crown clad Rose Princess.  
 (The beginning of the rainbow entry)



(Lisa  finds her people and joins in)

(parade barbie?)
(High School Band)

(dragon in front of Bellingham High)

(Pirate "float")

(all city middle school band - each school has a different shirt - Fairhaven is gold)

(Henry with his name on the back in front of the tuba)

(Henry marching)

    The Parade wasn’t long. There wasn’t a fancy float in sight, but the annual Ski to Sea Junior parade had a lot of charm. There were kids in Barbie Cars, numerous bands, lots of walkers with silly hats, some “floats”, some dogs on wagons as well as quite a few bicycles and a dragon. “Maybe Fort Flashback should have an entry next year.” Lisa suggested. “I can just see you walking the goats or using the Abe and Andy to pull a cart” as an overweight pony went by.

(Toby the pony)

    A chill went down my spine, but as I looked around at the chubby flag twirlers I realized those days are behind me.

May 13th Horsing Around

 

  (Grumpy anti-photo Quinn on her birthday with Henry and Lauren)
(Phoebe beating up Henry)

(Henry, Phoebe and lovely little Lauren)


    Lisa had come home with me for our new work exchange program. I cleaned her carpets last week on Quinn’s birthday and today she is mopping my kitchen and putting in a few rows of seeds in the garden. In the process we get to discuss our children, catch up on our friends and commiserate on the river of life that is laundry.

    We knocked off about 2:00 P.M. as the floor was clean, Luther’s toenails were clipped, the tomatoes, artichokes and carrots were in the ground and we’d all but decided Awesomez should move to Bellingham whether she thought it was a good idea or not. Plus we had to get to the kids’ middle school track meet.

    Lisa spearheaded the hot beverage acquisition while I collected Phoebe and found seats at Civic Field. Spring had disappeared behind a cloud. Suddenly, the sunny stadium was cold and damp, misty rain blew sideways on an Arctic wind turning my sleek flat-ironed hair into a Brillo™ pad. Phoebe and I must have looked like orphaned seal pups huddled together bracing ourselves against the unexpected cold. Walking in with a sleeping bag she’d had in her car Lisa started laughing when she saw us. “I guess you’re ready for this.” She chuckled unfurling the bundle. Welcome warmth enveloped us. Phoebe positioned herself in the middle her white translucent skin had a bluish quality in the cold. I thought she could easily pass as a vampire.

(Henry doing the softball throw)

    “Could you be any whiter?” I demanded.

    “Yes actually. This is me after a week in Cancun.” She giggled with a mischievous smile. We scanned the field for Henry and Quinn. Henry as easy to spot, all you have to do was look down for the orange socks.  Quinn wasn’t much harder, you just let your eyes drift over the top of the crowd and she’s usually the tallest one like her father. Henry was warming up for some of his field events. He was doing shot put and the softball throw as well as hurdles and the 4-man relay. Quinn had opted not to do the hurdles this year, but was doing the 400 and the relay.

    Just as Chris took his seat we saw Henry taking his lane for the hurdles. I thought he’d be pretty good because of his agility. I was shocked at Henry’s technique. “He looks like a bunny!” I said to Phoebe. “Have you ever seen anyone go over like that?”

    “No he looks weird. What’s he doing?’ Phoebe asked. “He touches his feet as he goes over. He’s fast, but look he touches his toes!” And he did. He seemed to be gliding through the air effortlessly. He didn’t really take off on one foot and travel forward as you would expect but went straight up like a bunny.

    “C’mon Henny he’s going to get you come on, come on, push, push, push!” Lisa shrieked like she was at a roller derby rink. He came in second.

    Quinn graced us with her presence while she changed into her cleats. As she laced up she asked with disdain, “Did you see how Henry hurdles? He hops like a bunny.”

    “That’s what we thought.” Phoebe exclaimed.

(Henry takes a break and visits us in the stands)

    “The coach thinks Henry’s really fast. He could win, but he has to change how he hurdles or they won’t let him race.” Quinn said with great concern.

    “Well it is only his first race.” Lisa chimed in.

    “I’m just saying in high school they won’t let him race if he hurdles like that.” High school he’s in sixth grade in his first race. Middle school girls, whatever.

    After informing us of Henry’s dire future in track, Quinn took the starting line. Watching her brought back memories of her first meet. I think she was in kindergarten or maybe it was in first grade. Tall for her age even then, but such a little Quinnderella. She’d come in dead and I mean dead last. Her long gangly coltish legs just didn’t move with much urgency. She was the kind of child who said excuse me when she played basketball. After the race she’d told Lisa “I felt like everyone else had a horse and I was on a pony.” Now she was running the 400 and looking confident and composed. As she took off out of the start she made up the stagger with ease. She was in the lead from the first turn and extended it for the rest of the race. It gets you out of your seat to see her pass EVERYONE like that. You think she can't keep it up- until she does! Wow! Our little Secretariat learned how to move those legs. Nearing the finish line Henry started running along side her on the grassy field next to the track cheering her on. Tears came to my eyes as she loped easily over the finish line. Henry ran over to hug and congratulate her, but she pushed him away barely able to stand up straight completely spent.

(Henry on the grass willing Quinn on as she nears the finish line )

    “She leaves it all on the field.” Lisa observed proudly.

    The shot put was hard to see as it was on the other side of the stadium and there was a shed in the way. Henry did OK in the softball throw, but not great. Not doing well at the softball throw? I’m sure this is somehow my genetic fault. Next, was the relay. One of Henry’s teammates was missing so they had to get a substitute and they were understandably nervous about the hand-off. Henry did the second leg of the race and took off like a bat out of hell coming from behind and passing the rest of the runners. “My God, he runs just like Dad. It’s Dad as an eleven-year-old Denise.” Lisa exclaimed. And she was right he did, he had the same movements, intensity and stride. In a flash, like a tape recorder I could hear my mother explaining, “Look he’s got a lot of flaws but we had a lot of laughs and he’s got good genes.”
Henry’s team had trouble with the hand-off and came in third. He took first in the shot put but didn’t come close in the softball throw.

    Chris went back to work, Lisa hurried off to a Humane Society meeting so I was in charge of signing the kids out and getting them home.

(going home 11-year-old Henry, 8-year-old Phoebe and now the newly13-year-old amazon Quinn)

On our way to the car Quinn said "Henry you know you've really got to change your hurdle."

    "Why?"

    "Because you could win, you're really fast." Quinn stated.

    "No. I couldn't win, the other kid beat me by a couple of seconds."

    "Seriously Henry you're fast. You'll make up a lot of time changing your form."

    "I don't think I can" Henry admitted.

    "You can Henry. I know you can and you'll win." Quinn encouraged.

    "You really think so."

    "I really do. You're good."

    "Thanks Quinn. You were really amazing."

    "Whatever, can we go?" Phoebe whined as they all  hopped in the car.

May 11th Birds Of A Feather

   

    We were late. I didn’t have time to brew a pot of coffee, but thankfully poured myself the last cup of yesterday’s Deadman’s Reach barked a few reminders at Henry and went upstairs to throw some clothes on.

    The seat was up on the toilet annoyed I couldn't seem to train Henry, I put it down and set my coffee on top of it. Digging through the pile of clothes on the floor I found a sweatshirt and my pair of work jeans. Wriggling into them I gathered my hair in a ponytail, brushed my teeth and went to sit down to put my socks on. As I sat, I felt the hot coffee flood my backside as the cup tipped over spreading all over the floor. Mourning the loss of my coffee I changed into my coveralls and stomped downstairs. Wisely, Henry took one look at me and silently gathered his things. We were out the door with four dogs in tow.

(Bruno - a little nervous?)

    Lisa was finally removing Bruno’s equipment this morning and the other dogs were along for the ride. We saw a small rafter of Black Spanish turkeys along Mt. Baker Highway. The very same variety the big hoo-haa town meeting had been about in Acme. The letter I received after the meeting had said it was decided there would be no wild turkeys released in Whatcom County. Was that was overturned?  Or had the birds not been informed of the decision and migrated on their own? Or had some renegade hunter taken matters into his own hands? Whatever, there they were about four or five big as life walking along the highway.

    As we drove a long considering the turkey options I was grumpy from my coffee mishap. Henry was properly sympathetic when he heard which helped. We chatted about the Canada goslings. “I’m going to call about what to do with them when I get home.”

    “But I want to keep them.” Henry whined.

    “Tough. I know they’re cute, but all the babies are cute. And this brings me to another topic. Do you think you can handle eating a chicken if we raise some? I mean we won’t name them, but I can’t get a bunch of chickens and have six roosters running around. They’ll fight and who knows what.”

    “I think I can now after everything with the geese.  Can we name some of them?” He asked hopefully wanting to use a whole bunch of names from the Illiad.

    “After we get to know them maybe. It’s just that raising animals that will help sustain us seems to be the way we’re going. I’m as shocked as you are at the idea of eating something we raise, but chickens mean eggs and if we decide we can eat them, meat. I’ve resisted chickens. You know I’m afraid of them, but Toby swears it’ll be ok and my friend Cynthia Lynn says there’s a chicken a woman raised like a dog. I do dogs quite well, so I think your dad and I have decided to give chickens a try.”

    “I don’t want to eat Andy.” Henry proclaimed.

    “We’re not eating Andy. We’re not eating anything we name. I’m not Maryruth yet.” I replied wondering why I hadn’t heard from her in a while.

(the way they were)

    I dropped off Henry and Bruno and headed home to deal with my wayward goslings. I was shocked to find only one where I’d left two. Alexis had obviously fed all the barn animals. Had one not made it through the night? I called him on his cell phone.

    “No there were two snuggled up together about a half-hour ago. Look again.”

    I searched the room, I searched the barn and then widened my circle to include the yard. I inched my way around tall grass and listened for peeping. Nothing. Lisa called with a Bruno update. “Keep looking. Maybe it went back to the pasture.” She suggested.

(my lure)

    I kept looking. I let the geese out to roam around thinking the little fella would come to the gaggle. Alexis came home and while I brewed a pot of coffee and called the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, he diligently took up the search. I could see him tromping all over scanning every inch of the yard as Lloyd and his crew trailed behind. We couldn’t help thinking of Colt. 

(waiting in Mike's old room)

(safe and sound)

        Lisa called again. "The patient is out of surgery and awake."

    "You didn't Chocolate Chip him"  a reference to our bunny, Chocolate Chip, who didn't make it through surgery - due to no fault of Lisa's. 

    "NO I didn't Chocolate Chip him. He's fine. Any luck?" She asked.

    "Nope."

    "Well, it is a migratory bird, with hardy genes. They're strong and if anyone has a good sense of direction it’s going to be a migratory bird." She reasoned.

     I waited until the afternoon then packed up our little friend to go to the center. Just as I was driving out of the driveway, I could hear Canada geese honking. I looked around, but didn’t see them. Perhaps our little adventurer had found the mama.  Yes, I think or choose to think that’s what happened. I want to believe that’s what happened. After all, we didn’t find a body. It wasn’t cold. The sun was shining and our yard is pretty safe all fenced in now. Not completely safe, but with Alexis and I in the yard most of the day a predator isn’t going to go out of its way to hunt here.

(Ready to ride)

(at Nugents' Corner)

    I drove to the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. It was surprisingly close by In fact, I could see Dodsons' IGA from the parking lot. There was an owl flying in an enclosure as I walked up and pictures of rescued animals covered a presentation board when I walked in. I pictured myself bottle feeding a raccoon. "Do you happen to need volunteers?" I inquired after filling out the paperwork.

    "Always" smiling Stacy said as she looked up the diet of Canada geese. We'd had a discrepancy. She thought they ate blood worms and I maintained they were herbivores.

    I picked up the Pheeb from a friend's house and told her about the day. "Do you think we could take one of the animals home for a night?" She asked wide-eyed.

    "I don't think so, but you never know." I answered smiling at her enthusiasm. We waited for Henry and Phoebe told him the days events.

    "Do you think we could take one of the animals home? Like a racoon? We could name him Oliver." He asked. We were all cut from the same cloth.

May 10th Are You My Mama?

(leader of the band)     

    At 5:30 A.M.I heard a deafening racket outside my window. It was as if some gang of marauding teenagers had pulled up and cranked their stereo. It was the crooning of every flipping ding-dang songbird in the forest greeting the dawn. I pried my eyes open realizing sleep would not return with battle of the bands outside my window. I perked up as I remembered Alexis’ Mother’s Day gift. The bag of Deadman’s Reach was downstairs waiting to be ground into an aromatic elixir sure to revive me. As I poured my first medicinal cup Henry bestowed on me a compass drawing he did in school and then I received a pastel pink and yellow heart on printer paper only slightly crumpled on one side like it had been stuffed in a sixth-grade's notebook. I gazed upon the drawing "Happy Mother's Day, I love you" was scrolled in tidy penmanship. It was full of emotion and care save the crumpled part. But then out came the piece de resistance a card with a fold and a saying. It wasn’t full of scribbles or too much erasing. It didn't have creases, rips or tears. I welled up. He’d listened. My son, a husband in training.

(My card- lettering learned from Miss Elberfeld (4th grade) - yellow is my favorite color)

(sweet)

    Dressed and ready for the day I met Alexis outside. He’d already fired up the tractor and true to his word was scraping the mat of weeds off with the sharp edge of the bucket. It was a bright sunshiny day and now that the fence was finished my four-legged lawnmowers, the goats, sheep and Miracle were out chomping the lawn. This is the way I dreamed it would be:  goats meandering by like they stepped out of “Heidi” taking nibbles of pine while the sheep drifted by the purple Agapanthus like strange clouds, the geese chatted by the barn while Miracle kept watchful eye on everyone as I sipped my coffee.

(Alexis clearing the land)

    After Alexis went off to work, my sister called and said she, Chris and the kids were going to head out for the afternoon. All the better to garden I thought.

    Before Team Donaldson arrived, Henry and I started to work. “Mama. I just want to let you know, I almost put you were more special than Awesomez on the card, but I erased it. I just couldn’t say it. I mean I love you and you’re my Mama, but well you understand, she is Awesomez.” Henry explained tap dancing as fast as he could.

    “I understand, I love her too.” I assured him."Now hush up and pull the Rhododendron the whole plant is poisonous to the goats."

    I’d let the cows out of the pasture again. This time I felt confident because we’d installed two gates. One gate blocks the barn animals from going into the road and the other gate keeps them from going down toward the pond. This in turn will keep Abe, Anna and Andy down munching on grass in what was our old cornfield. Or so I thought, until I looked up and saw Andy giving me the eye as we worked in the garden and before I knew it he'd found the one weak spot in the fence and charged through it. He wasn’t exactly a raging bull, but he got the job done. Suddenly Abe and Anna were in hot pursuit. Miracle was stunned at the sight of these new ruminants. I worried she might be like Quinn who does not like to be in the company of someone older and taller than her. “A person can be older or taller, but not both. Actually, I like to be older and taller if possible,” Quinn says whenever anyone will listen. If Miracle was like Quinn we might have a barnyard brawl. Would she attack or would the cows chase the goats like true “bullies”? I stood ready to react, but it was as calm as a nativity.

(Deciding the best place to be is on the other side of any fence)

(mowing my lawn)

(everybody eats)

(happy cows)

    We set back to work hoeing and taking tractor loads of debris away. We were hard at work when the Donaldsons pulled up. After some quick hugs and hellos we decided to break for lunch. In the kitchen Quinn asked “So what did Henry give you for Mother’s Day?”

    “He cleaned my room.” I said proudly.

    “Girl clean? Or boy clean?” Phoebe inquired.

    “Girl clean.” I assured her. “He vacuumed, put stuff away and I got a card too, plus a neck warmer-thingy.”

    “Girl clean? That’s good Henry.” Phoebe praised.

(Phoebe and Henry climb trees for entertainment)

(monkey-boy)

(Lunch is served in the tree as requested)

(Miracle with her fly mask on relaxing)

(working girls)

    After sandwiches we jumped back on the project. Phoebe and I manned the tractor bringing in loads from the compost pile.

    “This is some goooood shit.” I exclaimed as I savored the aroma, digging out a nice big load.

    “Really” she confirmed as we examined the sample teeming with earthworms.Lisa and Chris were hard at work mixing up the amendments and leveling the ground while Henry insisted on throwing knives at a tree and Quinn read a book.

    “Do we have to keep the garden gate closed all the time?” Lisa yelled over the tractor.

    “Actually yes, it seems the sheep like blueberries.” I yelled back.

    “Hey! Stop!” Lisa giggled. I turned back to see what she was talking about. “It’s nothing," she waved, "I just never had a sheep nibble my ankle before.” Apache was giving her kisses.

    Phoebe, Lisa, Chris and I got the garden to a point where we were ready to put in rows when we noticed there were no bells.

    “No bells that can only mean one thing.” I said wondering how they could have gotten out. “Do you think they knocked down the fence?” I asked. “I mean I know that’s not what you’d expect from a cow, but how else?” I asked half to myself as we began to walk the fence line with Anna who was also wondering where those good for nothing steers went off to leaving her behind.

    “I hear them.” I said listening to the faint clinking of cowbells. Turning my head toward the sound. I saw them in my only neighbor’s yard they’d hopped the fence.

    “Who wants a cookie?” Lisa yelled in a high-pitched voice. "Who wants a cookie?" She repeated. In only a couple of times, the boys were running not walking back, and over the fence they went.

    “It surprises me every time how nimble they are.” I reflected.  “But you know “ I said imitating my father, “there was that one f----- who went over the moon.” Lisa laughed. It was still funny.

    We came back to find Quinn in the garden. She’d finished her book and was wondering if they could still make it to the bookstore tonight. As she stood around not helping she began standing on one of the garden stakes. Balancing on one foot she said, “If this was a little wider this would be like Survivor.” 

    “Hey let me try.” Chris said as he climbed up on the stick. “One-one-thousand-two-one-thousand. . .” the girls chanted in unison until Chris dramatically fell off.

(Chris doesn't survive)

    “You two are the slowest counters I’ve ever heard.” He complained.

    “I did it longer.” Quinn said all smiles.

    “Let me try.” Phoebe insisted and then naturally, Lisa and I had to have a turn. We were now counting and competing for the best time.

    “This is fun.” Phoebe laughed, “Farm fun.”

    “Hey Quinn, you could do this at your birthday party.” Lisa laughed. "You young'ens would have a lot of fun." she hillbillied.

    “Great. My friends will say, gosh that party was fun. Quinn had us stand on a stick. No. They wouldn’t get it, but just so you know I think I've won with the best time.”

    “No. I did.” I corrected.

    “No. I did.” She said incorrectly. Being younger, I let her believe she was right poor thing, but as the winner I knew. I knew I had the better time she just couldn’t handle it.

    With all our falderal we got the stakes up and the string, but it was time to call it quits. Henry and Phoebe wanted one last knife throwing demonstration over by their tree. Most of us went to watch, but Quinn disappeared until she came out the front door. “Denise? Who’s this?” Quinn asked holding up a gosling. I gasped.

    “I don’t know! We’ve never met!” I was stunned. “Quinn where did you get that?” I asked completely confused. That was not one of Clara’s it was yellow and downy. I looked at it again. Its bill was black just like it’s feet. Clearly this was a Canada gosling. 

(in search of a Mother)

    “I found it walking across the lawn. I heard it peep and looked up and there it was, so I picked it up before the dogs saw it. Then Bruno took off like a shot for the fence down by the pasture. Maybe there are more.” So Quinn holding on to her charge showed us where Bruno had gone and we formed a search party. Looking and listening for peeping. I went and got Mabel to see if her honks would flesh anyone out of the tall grass. Just as we were all about to give up, Quinn found another one in a most remote area. We looked for the mother. The two goslings had been quite a distance away, and no one could locate a possible nest. I’d seen Canada geese in the pasture, but not hanging around the creek nor did I have any idea where the nest could be.

    “This is so weird, they need to find a mother on Mother’s Day.” Henry remarked. “Hey Quinn does this make them your babies? You’re the goose girl.” Quinn smiled wryly as she wiped goose poop out of the nest in her sweatshirt.

(twice the fun on Mother's Day)

    “It’s OK they’re just babies.” She replied cheerfully as we went to the barn and decided to try Mabel with the goslings.

    “She sat on her eggs for a good long time, maybe she’ll think they’d hatched while she was out. “ I suggested.

    “That’s some while you were out.” Phoebe laughed. Lisa took the goslings and rubbed her scent on them while she wasn’t looking. Mabel wanted nothing to do with them, so we tried Ruthie. She wouldn’t take them under her wing either. Next, we tried Clara, the proven mother, but she was too consumed with worry over her goslings that she didn’t relax.

    So we tried another tactic. We got Quackmire involved, after all, he’d been an excellent guardian to Clara’s hatch. Then we tried Ruthie again. No good, she just acted like she wanted to get away from Quackie. So we brought Mabel back in. Perhaps they’d be OK if the two of them were in there like Lloyd and Clara. I put the incubation light a safe distance away from the straw. We didn’t really need the adults to care for them as long as they protected them from any nocturnal predators like barn rats.

(Foster Family)

    “What do you want to name them?” Henry asked about 43 times.

    “I don’t know, some kind of outcast name like the elf who wants to be a dentist. What was his name?” Quinn mused.

    “I don’t remember.” Henry answered. “How about Romulus and Remus? Or Oenone, the wood-nymph?”

    “Uhhh no.” Quinn responded authoritatively.

    “Look we can’t keep them. They’re migratory birds they need to learn to fly.” Lisa said.

    “They do? Won’t they just know?” Quinn was confused.

    “Didn’t you watch ‘Fly Away Home about 35 times?” Lisa asked incredulously

    “Henry, the guy who shot ‘Fly Away Home’ Caleb, is the dad of Zooey Deschanel the girl in ‘Yes Man’. Anyway, I think the goslings are ok for the night. I’ll keep checking on them, but in the morning I’m calling the Wildlife Refuge.” I announced as we shut the barn door.

    “Mama, you relax, I’ll make dinner.” Henry said losing interest in the idea before he got to the kitchen. The phone rang as I got out the steamer. It was Awesomez’ daughter, little Lindsey, “Rizzo,I want to make my mom dinner, but I don’t know what to make. I need help.” she bleated.

    “Whatdya got?” I said pulling out my ingredients.

  (Henry and his buddy, Irish, have forgotten about making dinner)

April 25th A Barbie Girl Living In A Barbie World

   

(Showbiz a floribunda)

    When you’re broke, and I mean really broke not struggling, not conserving, not tightening your belt, but afraid your debit card will get rejected broke, it dominates your every purchase, your every thought. And if you’re not, you can’t put yourself in that place. With this in mind and starving, I suggested we all go out to a breakfast joint. Breakfast is the cheapest meal of the day; you can get a bowl of oatmeal for about $ 4.00 and be full for hours. That was my plan, so off we headed to breakfast and on the way ended up at BJ’s Brewery for lunch. I didn’t want to be disagreeable so I taciturnly nodded benign agreement. I scanned the menu for the most affordable item. Minestrone soup. I tried not to pout, but as I watched them eat salads and sandwiches and order beers I couldn’t help it. I was hungry and this was not filling me up.

    The other thing I wanted to do with my money was go and get a cheap pedicure. Washington does not have pedicure deals like the Valley and instead of a trip to Cancun or the Bahamas, a facial or an expensive lunch I wanted a pedicure – to relax, a treat to make me feel pampered and a celebration of the day. While I was on the phone checking on Henry while my friends bought me a bottle of nail polish remover to help me save money. It was very kind and I knew they were right, I shouldn’t squander my cash on treats but I was disappointed. The day was not going according to plan.

    We moved on to Nordstrom Rack where we looked and shopped and browsed. I tried on cheap jewelry and found a necklace I might want but figured it didn’t go with my coveralls so I decided not to spend my pennies. However, when we got back to the hotel I found Laura had purchased the necklace for “herself” and for me to borrow. She’s clever for a blonde.

    From shopping Awesomez and I had to go run errands, pick up balloons, take Henry here and there and get ready for the reunion. With all this activity I barely got my toes painted when we got back and couldn’t take a shower because my polish hadn’t dried. To add insult to injury I discovered I had forgotten my make-up bag. Not my lotions and potions, but the basic necessities eyebrow pencil, eyeliner, shadow etc. Great. I had to borrow. Needless to say this put me in a foul mood. I was ready to stay home and forget the whole damn reunion.

    “Really. Really? You’re going to let this ruin your evening?” Awesomez asked incredulously. She doesn’t wear make-up. She says it makes her look like a clown. She didn’t understand.

    “Really.” I said with belligerent defiance. I knew we were close enough for me to yell at her and she wouldn’t flinch. Oh she wouldn’t like it, she’d be sad but she would still love me in the morning. A knock at the door saved her from my complete I-don’t-have-my-eyebrow-pencil-meltdown. Bar-back Barbie, June, walked in with bags of wine laughing and smiling dressed in a cool blue-grey blouse that set off her eyes. Without bothering with hellos after so many years I asked. “June, I’m in a crisis. This top? Or this top?” I pointed to the orange one Laura had given me in January.

(Spooneta Mondetta looking stunning)

    “Hmm I’m intrigued by the orange one. Put it on” It was like so many years ago as roommates she hadn’t missed a beat. “No. The black one is slimming.”

    “These shoes? Or the others?”

    “Those they look good with your toes.” She said with authority. I was beginning to breathe.

    “Belt? Or necklace?” I said with desperation.

    “Definitely the belt. Focal point. I like the cool way you tuck the blouse.” She said pouring the wine and handing me a glass.

    Despite June’s spot on assistance, I was still in the tail end of a snit as we parked; Awesomez turned to me and said before we walked through the doors “I hope you’re going to be able to enjoy the evening.”

    “I’m a party girl and this is a party. I will pull it together. I’m not going to get another chance to see all these people.” And I did. I laughed and talked and talked and laughed. What I talked about I have barely any idea. I hugged and remembered and took pictures in between margaritas. It was an amazing time full of memories and plans for the future. While I was there I booked visitors in June, July and August and I’m crossing my fingers they all show. After the party about thirty people came back to our room for margaritas and bottles of wine. Chicken wings showed up from somewhere and Awesomez’ oatmeal raisin cookies were violated.
(back- Nancy, Julie, Alisa, Dayna, Lisa #2, front- Me, Lori and Lisa #3- together we are the Alpha Gammas-)
(Laura and Lisa#4)

(June and Deb "Stearn")

(Susan and Lisa #5)
(Awesomez -Lisa #1-with the boys- Pat, Jeff and Gary)

(Lisa #5 enjoying the evening- comfortable with the paparazi at this point)
(Laura and Barbara Jordan)

    The next morning, a day with out obligations or chores I woke up to Awesomez who’d been transformed into “Crack-of-flipping-Dawn Barbie and a room that smelled like a fast food restaurant. We hit the ground running. A shower and our daily hike out to move the car before we got a ticket on a side street off Canoga. Then we piled in the car with June to shuttle Henry to his next destination and on to my long-awaited cheap breakfast!
(Henry and his new friend Salsa - he says she's spicy)

    “Henry this is June my old roommate.” I said introducing Henry through the car window.

    “Hey June! Hey Awesomez!” he said before getting in. Climbing in the car and slamming the door Henry paused for a moment. “You know there’s just way too much estrogen in the air.” I didn’t even know he knew the word estrogen. We were going to have to talk. I looked at him laughing and full of joy. He’d been having a great time and I was thrilled. My friend, Susan Iverson, said he had achieved “Rock Star Status” and I was happy for him, but my heart also ached knowing he didn’t have this kind of friendship at home. Why had I taken him from all of this? Did I do the right thing for him? Had I been selfish? I’d thought I was doing it for the family but perhaps I’d rationalized. Well, I’d have to think about that tomorrow. We drove past our old house and although I wanted to get out and start knocking on my old neighbor’s doors I knew I couldn’t with a car full of hungry women.

(death by snuggling - the kid tries to kill me)
(our old house)

    After listening to the conversation Henry said before he got out of the car, “I think I should be Metro Barbie” and he hugged June and Awesomez good-bye. We really were going to have to talk. I got out of the car and deposited Henry. He was happy and all seemed to be going my way. Until I got back in the car and found Awesomez had answered my phone. She’d told some Barbies that we’d meet them back at the hotel to eat. The hotel! I didn’t want to pay those prices. I snapped. Snapped. Seriously throwing a tantrum. I just wanted a nice economical time full of fun and laughter. Somehow though I just came off as a control freak. No one understood that going back to the hotel was going to be too expensive. It’s like telling a poor person to shop at Costco. Sure you get more for your money, but if you don’t have the money to buy seventy-five rolls of paper towels it does you no good. I started yelling at Awesomez the kind of yelling you reserve for family. The kind of yelling you only do when you know that your bad behavior will be in time forgiven and forgotten although there is a chance it will be held over your head, but you’re so upset you don’t care. I was hungry and I didn’t want to spend a lot of money – again.

    “But I already told them we’d go.” Awesomez said innocently having no idea how to tame the wild beast I was becoming. She’s sweet and soft spoken and she was totally out of her element. “I want you to be happy,” she said desperately. “What did I do? I just want everyone to get along.” She knew I was broke and I knew she knew I was broke, but as I said when you have more than five dollars in your pocket you just don’t understand how it feels to count each cent. Probably because she believed she'd pay for me, she assumed it, she wanted to take care of me. "You can't take it with you" she'd say quoting her father, but I couldn't make that assumption. I couldn't rely on her kindness and leech off her. She's my friend not a lottery ticket.

    Heroically, June slipped into Human Resources Barbie and drove back to the hotel. She calmly and cordially invited all those seated at the table to join us at Cables on Ventura Blvd for breakfast. And off we went.

    June ordered enough food to feed a village. She then decided she herself wasn’t a village, but tall enough to be described as a peninsula. “I just made that up.” She said and every one laughed as though they were drunk at 10:00AM. “I like to put together amazing bites of food.” She explained skewering a piece of turkey sausage.

    My sister who had joined us said “Well it looks like you’ve put together a breakfast shish kabob.” And it did, she had egg, waffle, meat and lord knows what else on that fork every time. It was an interesting technique. In fact, I’d eyed her last bit of pancake hungrily and was just about to stab it without permission when she suddenly without warning lopped it on top of a tomato. Weight Watchers would be happy I didn’t need the calories. With the financial hysteria behind me, the breakfast was a just another sidesplitting, eye-wiping laugh fest. Awesomez pulled the big sister card and paid my bill.

    When we got back to the hotel, we ran into Cindy who said she was sorry she’d missed us for breakfast. She said they knew I was a bit tight for funds and somehow had been given a free breakfast buffet ticket and had saved it for me. My heart filled, these were my friends.

    The day just went from one activity to another. No sooner did we get back to the hotel and sit down look at the clock and realize we had to leave again. It was almost time for the second game in the CSUN Softball double header and my little sister Barbara Jordan is the head coach. So off we went to Northridge tired and a little bleary-eyed. I was excited we were going to watch Barb. In college rain or shine I’d go to all her practices and all her home games and many of her away games including driving up to San Luis Obispo. I’d admired the work and dedication of the whole team and though they were reluctant they finally let me put make-up on almost of all of them even Mishy McAnany – third base gave in.

    Awesomez and I strode up to the ticket booth and I insisted on paying for her ticket. I know it was a small gesture, but that’s all I have right now. She graciously thanked me as if I was the one who had paid her plane ticket, hotel bill and breakfast. We sat down in the same stands I’d sat in twenty-five years ago and watched Barb walk her familiar Barbara walk out to the mound. I yelled “C’mon Barb” in my same squeaky high-pitched voice just as I used to. She turned and smiled at me over her shoulder. I was so proud of her, so confident and in charge. I chatted in the stands with her sister, Karen, "Remember when Barb used to steel all the bases Denise?" and I did. The girl had wheels. Karen had been instrumental in my choice of Catholicism. “Follow your heart and trust in God and all good things will come. He knows what you need,” she said encouraging me and reminding me of my faith. I soaked in the warm sunshine and released my problems. I couldn’t think of another afternoon I’d spent at a ball field watching anyone other than my son play in twenty-five years. It was glorious.  Especially when I saw how my little sister orchestrated the win using her old stand by to advance the run. - They didn't call her Bunt Jordan for nothing.

(Barb earning her keep)
(Barb waving dutifully)

(Awesomez and Spiritual Barbie - Karen an AOII and - Barb's sister)
(Barb # 18 Jordan and her Coach Torgeson whom she recently inducted into the Hall of Fame- he says she's next)

    Afterward, it was on to the 50th Anniversary reunion of CSUN. Tom was joining us there so Awesomez and I walked over traveling through time. She tripped me as we went and I felt seventeen again. The actual reunion was a snore. The tents were disorganized, they ran out of food and there was no actual place for us to gather. So a bunch of us including my sister, Barbara, Awesomez, Cindy, Laura, Tom and our old roommate who never pledged a sorority, Delinah went to dinner at California Pizza Kitchen. It was more eating, more drinking and more laughing. We talked about inspiring kids to like history and good historical fiction. I found out Delinah had dated my eighth grade crush and she promised to come up to the farm to visit.
(Pea and me)

(Barbara, me, the Matador and Pea)

(Laura sticking her tongue out at me - with Rick Simmons - sigma chi)

    It was getting late and Tom needed to get home so Delinah said she’d drive us back to our car still parked near the softball field. We all piled in to hers, which meant Laura had to sit in the child booster seat in the back. Laughing hysterically throwing out ridiculous things like Booster Seat Barbie as we sat under a lamp post in the Northridge Mall parking lot all because of a child’s booster seat and Cheerios™ simply enjoying being together. Delinah, who is now a professor of psychology, was laughing so hard she was doubled over the steering wheel, said thoughtfully as she started the car, “After twenty-five years I finally get why you pledge a sorority. I finally finally get it, too bad.”  Funny, at that moment I felt pretty rich.

April 22nd The Odyssey

     (the San Juan Islands out the window)

(the Cascades)

   An eyelash shy of food stamps these days it was odd to fly the upgrade Lisa got us all at the airport, but non-fat latte in hand I endured the irony of first class. We couldn’t get three seats so Lisa and Henry were together doing a crossword and discussing “Ninety Minutes in Heaven” while I was alone with my thoughts about the events ahead. My trip was painfully scheduled in some ways not allowing for coffee with a friend or a drive to the beach. I was nervous as I looked out the window to the endless sun-soaked sea of swimming pools upon our descent. I hadn’t been back home in two full years.

(Dean at Burbank Airport - helping Henry with his bag)

    Toby and Dean picked us at the airport like no time had passed. Having them back in Los Angeles added to the emotion. The boys chatted in the backseat as we got Lisa’s rental car and all stopped at 7-11 for sodas before Toby and I headed off to Nordstrom Rack while Lisa drove off to Loehman’s (my mom’s very favorite store) and a pedicure.

    As Toby maneuvered the freeway I drank in the warm sunshine. After two years of angst always wondering where to go for things like getting my ring fixed or what restaurant is good it was strangely comforting to know just know where everything is. Every block, every parking space was filled with a lifetime of memories that came flooding back.

Shopping was a bust; although Toby narrowed what I was looking for so I might be able to find an acceptable outfit more easily on my second try. She determined after looking at my bruises, which were now turning an olive green that short sleeves were definitely out of the question.

    Henry, Tom and I reunited at the reported busiest Starbucks in the world located on the corner of Topanga Canyon and Ventura Blvd. We hugged Toby and Dean good-bye for now and moved on to the next leg of our journey.

    Our friends Kathy and Dan, the grandparents of two of my former students Trevor and Ashley offered to take us to dinner. To say Trev and Ashley are simply former students is to say the Great Barrier Reef is just a big bunch of rocks. Trevor and “Ashweena” were part of our family. They went to Yellowstone and Alaska with us. Henry still wears Trevor’s hand-me-downs and receives his castoff Christmas presents. All the kids including Quinn and Phoebe have spent the night together, gone to the beach, camp, had Christmases, birthdays, the zoo, done homework and have even gone to several funerals together. In fact, Trevor, Ashley, Quinn, Henry and Phoebe were together the reason I needed a van in the first place. I hauled the five of them here and there across the valley shleping them to baseball, dance, gymnastics and back and forth from sleepovers. 

(family owned for 47 years)

    We all met up for Mexican food as the supply in Bellingham is scarce. Walking in, I could feel the memories wrap around me like a blanket. I’d been going there with my family since I was eight years old and have sat in probably every booth. There’s the one we went to when my mother got her masters and then the one when we discovered she had cancer, the one I sat in when I turned twenty one and ordered my first margarita, the one where we celebrated my grandfather’s eightieth and the one where we consoled ourselves in after he died, the one we went to when I visited from Minnesota, the one when Lisa had Quinn, The one when my mother died, the one when Henry was afraid of policemen, the ones when we were fixing up the house and I was too tired to cook, the one when Tom decided he wouldn’t leave me for Kim Basinger even though she was in the next booth, the one where we decided to move to Washington. It was the perfect place to be.

(Ashley "Ashweena" )

 (Trevor - "Trevie-Trev-Trev" T-DAWG, my personal - NIGHTMARE)

 

(Henry and Trevor - somethings don't change)

(Ashley watching the boys)

(Our man Dan)
    After an evening of drinks, laughter and catching up, Tom, Henry and I headed to Ventura where Tom is living. There is only one functional bedroom in the house so to Henry’s delight he was relegated to the authentic 1940’s teardrop trailer Tom built piece by piece. The tear-drop has often been our extra bedroom at the Donaldson’s on Christmas or New Year’s Eve. Snug as a bug in a rug Henry was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

(A sleeping Henry still inside the  teardrop the next morning)

April 15th Local Color

   

    As we drove to school this morning Henry told me all about his desire to be on the track team. “I really want to do the hurdles and the shot-put and the softball throw.” He said excitedly.

    “You sound like you had a lot of fun yesterday.”

    “I did, I think I like track maybe better than wrestling. There’s more to do.”

    “Uhhhh you know. I was talking to Lisa last night.”

    “Which one?”

    “Awesomez, and she said you told her about the softball throw and apparently you told her the only thing I can throw is a party.” I glared at him.

    “You throw a great party?” He said meekly as he winced shrinking in his seat.

    “I’ll have you know, I have tried very hard for many years to learn how to throw a softball. Eric Fulton tried to teach me in the 8th grde. Your father has worked with me. Barb Jordan tried her best, Trevor, the P.E, coaches at Woodland Hills and too many 5th grade boys to count. You’re mean, mean and rotten. Lisa said she’s willing to teach me and in fact she thinks she’s going be the one to teach me.

    “Good luck." The little punk said under his breath.

    "What?"

    Well, if anyone can” He said, “The Awesomez can. She’s patient Mama. She won’t yell at you.”

    “I throw a great party.”

    “Mama throws a great party.” He repeated in a condescending tone.

    “Oh hush.”

    Home from Cancun, Lisa and I agreed to meet at Larabee Elementary School where Phoebe is a “Lara-Bee”.

(Phoebe with her braids from Cancun)

(Larabee Elementary)

Neither of us had eaten, so to catch up we decided go for breakfast at the Food Co-op. Pulling in the parking lot where Birkenstocks™ abound, it’s easy to tell The Food Co-op is the Topanga Canyon/Santa Monica of Bellingham. I applied for a job here and made the mistake of wearing my maple sugar lipstick. I’d been worried I didn’t look professional enough, but then realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this company as my hair was brushed and I had in fact, I had bathed within the last week.

(note Lisa's van with Tule™ and street musician on left)

(Food Co-op bike rack)

    As we stood in line for potentially the best coffee in Washington, I happily remembered Lent was over and ordered a non-fat latte. Extra hot. We both got a bowl of oatmeal and Lisa did some experimenting with something called “Old World” cereal. The girl behind the counter pointed to the other container and said, “This is like Malt-O-Meal” a little hesitantly. Feeling adventurous I dipped into the vat of cereal and put some in my bowl.

(breakfast is served)

    We sat down in front of a window in the warm sunshine after moving our chairs away from another patron whose aroma was a little pungent. I looked at Lisa across the table. She had a glow about her; she wasn’t fish belly white anymore. She was tan and I was green, but I consoled myself with the fact I could buy a tan at the store. Each of us took a bite of our breakfast. She nodded considering the Old World option though obviously not loving it by the way her nose crinkled up. I spit mine out in a napkin. It wasn’t anything like Malt-o-Meal and come to think of it I never really liked Malt-O-Meal anyway.

(some customers enjoying the warm sun)

    “Yeah, I was a little suspect when she said that.” Lisa acknowledged. “Malt-O-Meal never had those stringy things in it.” She was right I thought with disgust.

    “So tell me how was Mexico?” I said sitting back basking in the sun in no particular hurry. After all I could look for more jobs that were going to reject me later.

    “Well, I ate like a pig and drank like a sailor. “ She laughed, “I really couldn’t count how many margaritas I had, but the best part is they come in to-go cups.” She said with a mischievous smile. I took a leisurely sip of my latte as she began to relay the rest of the Donaldsons’ Spring Break Adventures including their nighttime trip to the ruins, the exciting sea turtle sightings – a sort of Easter Hunt, the technical improvements of scuba gear, the thatched roof in Cozumel, an incident resulting in a  broken camera, and ending with a nervous Phoebe coming face to face with a toothy barracuda.

    After a healthy amount of people watching we went our separate ways. She to a vegetable stand and I headed home to color my hair. The drive was a spectacular display of green.

(ready for someone's spring garden)

(the flowering trees)

(our little Bellingham vineyard)

(prop plane flying way too close for my comfort)

The hills ranged in color from asparagus to forest to the color of Granny Smith apples while the trees were jungle, mountain meadow and pine. Spring. A few eagles still fly over-head but now robins fly kamikaze in front of the cars playing some deadly game of chicken.

(eagle flying close over Mosquito Lake Road - pulled my car over- prefer the eagle to the plane)

Birds and their birdbrains are a complete mystery to me. The phone rang. It was Lisa the vegetable stand was looking for help so she got me an application. The drive was relaxing I pictured myself at the vegetable stand. Visualization. On a whim I pulled in to the IGA to pick up a bottle of instant tan. It was on sale. The woman at the checkout was tall, thin, had funny little glasses and rather protruding teeth. As I stood there swiping my card I chuckled picturing her swimming in the warm aquamarine waters– she did look very much like a barracuda.

(Andy enjoying the new grass in the pasture)

April 12th Great Expectations

   

(tucked in the mama)

    Easters are supposed to be blue skies sundresses, sandals, tulips and quirky bonnets, but in reality even in California they're often dreary, rainy days. I remember Henry's first Easter dressed as a little sailor complete with hat at the Descanso Gardens egg hunt. It poured unrelentingly as soggy toddlers dragged their brightly colored baskets through the mud while mothers and fathers hovered trying to keep umbrellas over them as they dodged about looking for plastic treasures filled with goodies.

    The one thing, for as long as I can remember. I could count on is my sister. When we were young she would walk in my room every Easter saying “He is Risen!” Even after we no longer lived together, and no matter what time zone either one of us were in,  I would hear the phone ring and “He is Risen!” would be the words I would expect.

    A bit of melancholy swept over me as I knew this Easter would be different. Lisa and Chris are in Cancun with the girls and we had decided it would just be too expensive for her to be calling me with the ridiculous inflated roaming charges on her cell phone. They knew the dogs were fine Mike was taking care of them and I knew their hotel in case of emergency. Everything else could wait.

    No matter, the day burst open when Henry woke up, sprang out of bed, raced down the stairs screaming “Easter bunny bawlk, bawlk” as he struggled to get out the front door to see if there was indeed an Easter basket waiting for him on the other side. I say struggled to get out the front door, because like many things that weren’t done exactly right on this house, our door handles are falling off one by one and he has to use a key or a screwdriver to unlatch the latch. But I’ll think about that tomorrow.
(Henry's Easter basket filled with his favorites, broccoli, veggie vitamins, tangerine scrub, Pirate Booty, a Coke™, chocolate covered pretzels, Chai tea, and of course Toblerone™)

(Easter Bunny - my what big ears you have)

(Easter Bunny?)
(Happy Henry)

    The rest of the morning was filled with brunch preparations. Including the quartering of strawberries, tearing of spinach, candying of walnuts, crumbling of Gorgonzola, the tying of bows and ironing of tablecloths and of course there was going out in the pouring rain in my boots and pajamas clippers in hand trolling the ditches for flowers to put on the table.

(Oranges)

(Easter flower/weed centerpieces)

Henry obeyed orders. “Get another small tablecloth, make the waffle batter, tie pink bows, find more bunnies, set up the waffle making station, look for napkins…”barked at him over the din of Alexis’ vacuuming.

(mason jars full of flowers and weeds, my mother's German bunnies, and paper cups filled with cinnamon-nutmeg waffle batter)

    “Henry, I really want you to remember your manners when the Rudy’s arrive. I don’t want you to eat like wolf-boy.” I said as I wiped the counter.

    “Do I have to eat everything?”

    “Well, I’d like you to try everything at least one bite. I don’t know if Trevin and Austin will, but you should.”

    “Austin will I’m sure he eats salad he’s thirteen.”

    “So is thirteen a magic number?”

    “Well, Austin's mature. In some religions, like if you’re Jewish it means you’re grown up.

    "But Austin's not Jewish."

    "No, look at Michael he had his Bar Mitzvah.”

    “Hmm, you’re holding the younger Ungar up as your example of grown up? Seriously? And what if you’re Catholic?”

    “You’re still a kid.”

    “Huh so then you don't have to eat salad?”

    "Right."

    When the guests arrived, the table was set, the coffee was brewed, the quiche hot and the champagne cold. We began with mimosas and deviled eggs while the kids went out to the barn to see if any more goslings had hatched.
(Dave and Kim celebrate)

(Goosedown snuggy)

(Dave instructs Trevin)

(Mike getting worked into a point of view)

The boys played pool while the jukebox blared and we chatted. Mike gave a couple rants about educational systems and other social ills and then we moved on to our meal eventually rounding out a wonderful afternoon with a rousing game of Apples to Apples™.

(Mike dipping into the strawberry/spinach/walnut/gorgonzola salad)

(Denise (in the blouse Laura gave me) and her 15th mimosa?)

(Austin after a trip to the waffle station)

  (Kim's cupcakes)

(Alexis judges the cards to Trevin's amusement)

(Denise and Henry- if only my hair wasn't in my face, I wasn't hunched over like Yoda and Henry's glassed didn't cover his eyes - this would be a nice picture)

(Irish always willing to help make sure all the crumbs are cleared)

    After the guests were gone and the dishes were done, I went out to my car to get some things I needed. As I slipped into the cold driver’s seat to get out of the rain, I heard my cell phone beep. Unusual for here as we don’t get reception, but as I leaned slightly to the left I got just a bar and a text message appeared “He is Risen!”

April 6th Family Affair

(Alexis' charge)

    After 24 hours of driving in three days, we slept like the dead, surrounded by our menagerie. I woke up and started the coffee. Tom was close behind followed by Henry. Anxious to see the babies we chatted excitedly about going out to the barn, when suddenly Alexis appeared in the kitchen with a gosling wrapped in a towel.It seems the poor thing had gotten lodged between the nest and the wall.

    “I’m not sure how long she was there before I got her out. She couldn’t hold her head up. It would just flop over and she wasn’t strong enough to move so I brought her in and we’ve been together ever since. I’ve been feeding her colostrum with an eyedropper. It’s after all a cure all for almost everything. I named her Anne because she’s a survivor like Anne Frank.” Alexis explained.

    My first thought was a slight twinge of jealousy. Alexis was caring for the baby and I wasn’t. I should have been here. In a flash my feelings turned to overwhelming gratitude. I was so fortunate he’d been here to save the little one and lucky he’d taken the initiative to care for the hatchling. I wondered about the name. Anne Frank didn’t really survive did she? And I’m not sure, but think it’s a boy. The bill was sort of dark so it was ambiguous. Finally, I wasn’t sure feeding colostrum was a good idea, as birds didn’t produce it, only mammals.

    “Well, my sister and the girls are coming out today to see the goslings so she can take a look at the little fella.” I said more to myself than anyone.

    After taking a good look at Alexis’ new charge. We bolted outside to see our babies’ babies. It was so exciting to see Lloyd and Clara out in the yard using the crevice from the tractor as a tiny swimming hole for their brood. Lloyd came up and greeted us while Clara sat demurely with her peeps as they peep, peep, peeped. I didn’t like the idea of the tractor track water possibly from the compost as their bath so we moved the family over closer to the barn.
(meeting the family)

(Mama and babies)

    Sitting in the sun sipping coffee as Henry lay on the ground as close as he could to the goslings we were riveted by the new family. The excitement at seeing the babies with Lloyd and Clara is almost indescribable. It was amazing what a good mother and father Lloyd and Clara were protecting and counting their babies completely by instinct as they were here on their second day of life without ever being with a parent. Just then, Lisa and the girls rolled up.

    The doors opened and the girls raced across the driveway shrieking as everyone met the new babies. And once again Alexis appeared cradling his towel wrapped charge. I explained to Lisa what was going on ending with “…Anne Frank, because she was a survivor.”

(farm camo-Romaine lettuce)

(About to take a dip)

(Clara and her babies after a swim)

(struggle for snuggle)

(Alexis and Lisa chat about bird health)

    “But uhh, she didn’t ultimately make it.” Lisa said trying to be gentle. We were on the same page. “And I don’t know about the colostrum.” She worried. “It might be a negative in a bird.”

    “It looks like a boy.” Phoebe insisted and we all agreed. “There are two boys and three girls. See look at their bills. With Cotton Patch you can tell right away.” Farm-girl Phoebe explained.

    “Maybe you could call him Frank?” Lisa suggested.

    Suddenly, as we we’re standing in the warm sun watching the new family eat Vivian came creeping out of the barn. Turning I saw she had an egg in her mouth! She came running out and scurried off into some tall grass where she put the egg down and sat near it.

(Vivian carries the egg)

    “Alexis! Remember that egg I found on the lawn the other day? Maybe it wasn’t new. Maybe Vivian put it there.” I surmised just as she went into the barn and got another egg laying it in another location.

    “She’s being gentle. Does she want to eat it? Or hatch it?” Quinn asked amongst the laughter. The day was filled with sunshine and rebirth. Vivian and her antics seemed to add to the carnival atmosphere. Anything seemed possible even a rottweiler hatching an egg. Although we all agreed Luther was better suited.

(Vivian with "her" egg)

    I suspected however, she was not acting with maternal intent rather I thought she was more Templeton the rat. Especially, once we confirmed these were Clara’s abandoned eggs. The ones she stopped sitting on when the others were hatched. It didn’t take long to verify this when one of the eggs cracked open and a smell beyond compare wafted through the air amid screams of disgust. Vivian tried to roll in it while Tom gathered the rotten goose eggs and disposed of them.

    With an egg stealer on the loose, and three crazy ganders we decided to enclose Lloyd and his family in the vegetable garden where they would be safe. I worried about the other ganders they were acting wild. We decided they needed to be incarcerated. So I picked up Quackmire to put him in the flower garden and he bit me. Not a love bite, a hard bite on my tricep. The pain took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes partially because it was excruciating and partially because he’d hurt my feelings. Quackmire bit me? Really? Really? Are you kidding’ me?

(Quackmire's handy work)

    “What are we going to do Mama? Are we going to get rid of Quackmire too?” Henry asked.

    “I don’t know. My mother always said: When you don’t know what to do, don’t do anything. Right now, the only thing I can promise is we’re keeping Lloyd and Clara. I’m not promising anything else. We only have one healthy boy gosling at the moment so I don’t know if I can even sell a breeding pair yet. We have to see if any of Mabel’s eggs hatch.”
(Tom drills the ends of the eggs)

(Henry blows the yolk)

(Tom blows his egg)

    Once Quackmire, Cleveland and Alfred were enclosed we went inside to blow the unfertilized goose eggs for Easter. Tom got his drill while Henry and Alexis with Phoebe’s help decided to use the high falutin’ Veeta-Vita-Vegi-Mix Tom won and create a lettuce smoothie for the little guy, “Frank?” They didn’t make it too thick or too thin, but just right so the little boy could gain some strength and go back out with his brother and sisters. He was definitely improving.

(Henry pours Romaine Smoothie, while Phoebe and Alexis care for the gosling)

(Happy Phoebe)

(Eyedropper feeding session)

    During the eyedropper feeding session in between prying the gosling’s bill open Henry told Alexis the story of John Colter and before long the struggling little boy was being called Colt while his healthy brother had been named Clyde for Bonnie and Clyde.

(Clara with a little girl - dark bill- and healthy boy - Clyde with the lighter bill on right)

     That didn't end well either I thought as I worried about all this naming. I know I don’t want to become the crazy goose lady of Mosquito Lake Road some of them are definitely leaving.

March 29th Pig Tales

    (Arriving at Cascade Meadows Farm)

     “Pigs!” Screamed Quinn, Henry and Phoebe at a pitch only children can reach. The pigs in the field looked up. “Piggies!” Quinn screamed again, and suddenly adorable black pigs were running toward us their floppy ears bouncing up and down. The black pigs against the green carpet of grass were quite a sight. We were all instantly enthralled. I pulled over and parked. The Lisas were certain this wasn’t the right house, but I wasn’t. I walked up to the door and knocked. A Reubenesque woman came to the door.

    “I’m looking for Cascade Meadows?” I said as she peeked out the well-worn farmhouse door.

    “Next door.” She said and pulled her head back in out of the freezing rain. I got the told-you-so look from the Lisas. Drat. The Lisas were right again. They went back to move the car while the kids ran giggling and skipping over as I walked the distance to the pale green house.

(Cascade Meadows Farm)

    Soon Kirk was outside dressed for the weather. “If you guys were real farmers, you’d have boots on.” He laughed. I had boots in the car I thought silently but since no one else did I remained quiet. I was not the kid in the class who raised their hand and reminded the teacher no homework had been assigned.
Kirk picked up a 50lb. bag of grain and began calling “Here little piggies! Here little piggies!” as he walked out into a field. Big pigs, little pigs and pigs with enormous teats came from all directions to snack on the grain.

(Kirk opening the grain with both Mamas)

(Standing in the freezing rain: Lisa, Quinn, Phoebe/Henry & L. Awesomez)

(Henry, Me, the pigs and the Spotted Sussex in the hail)
 
    “Ahhhhs” came from everyone as the pigs gathered in the field around Kirk.
“Look Mama! We have that grain for the cows. We already have the kind of food they like.” Henry said, starting his sales campaign.

    “They’re certainly not as big as the pigs at the fair.” My sister said approvingly. “And so engaging.”

(piglet and Mama)

    “No.” Kirk said. “And some of these are four-years-old, so you know they are full grown.”

     “Can you tell which are boys or girls when they’re young?” Quinn asked.

    “Sure, it’s easy.” Kirk said squatting down to teach Quinn how to sex a piglet. Attentive, she was soon sexing all the pigs in effort to narrow down which ones we should take home with us. It seems this was her part in the multi-tiered campaign. Quinn who had expressed some concern about me taking on another animal had folded like a tent.

(Farm girl Quinn learning how to sex a pig from Kirk)

    Kirk was very informative about his pigs. We discussed needing a health certificate to cross state lines and the sensibility of eating your own pig. We talked about the varying hair length their cold tolerance and breed standards.

    “I just don’t think I could butcher my pig.” I said, although I am getting closer to understanding that if people don’t eat these breeds they will become extinct.

    “Buying pork at the market is the same as plunging a knife into the side of this pig.” He said with hand gestures and drama. “I can kill my best friend on the farm. Sure I shed a tear while I’m doing it, but I know the animal had a completely happy life and until the moment I put a bullet in it’s head it has lived a good day. There is no trauma, no fear. It’s just been doing piggy things like eating and being with family until the end. I feel honored to eat it and have it become a part of me.” I glanced over at Awesomez. I could see by the look on her face, this logic was not sitting well with her. The kids while listening to this were distracted to a degree happily scratching pigs right and left. Smiles never leaving their faces they cooed to their new friends.
(Quinn giving a good scratch)

    “Now, I’ve heard horror stories about pigs attacking dogs and kids, but I know you have a young daughter. Do you worry?” I asked thinking of Alfred the Awful and Maryruth’s stern warnings regarding swine purchases.

    “I really don’t. Certainly you want to handle any animal with respect, but these pigs don’t eat the chickens. Many breeds would kill them, but these don’t. They’re pretty gentle it’s been bred out of them. They eat whatever, but they only eat dead things. I’ve never seen any of my pigs kill anything. They forage for most of their food. Just need some shelter from the weather some grain if they’re nursing.

(Guinea Hog and Spotted Sussex)

    “They’re easy keepers.” My sister said.

    “Exactly! They’re easy keepers.” Kirk agreed readily.

    “I’m an easy keeper.” My sister said shrugging her shoulders as Kirk fell victim to my sister’s wit.

    “I’m an easy keeper too.” Kirk agreed.

    They yammered on about frequency of breeding seasons as I meandered over to where Henry was petting Abbey. She’d rolled over on her side so he could really pet her. She was engorged her teats enormous. I wondered if he was just feeling her up in some prepubescent way. As I got closer I could see he was shaking her while singing, “My milkshake brings all the hogs to the yard…” I walked on. Boys.

(Henry does a milk shake on Abbey)

(Henry gives a pig hug)

    “Denise did you hear what Henry is singing?” Quinn demanded. I nodded as I turned toward Lisa. She stood silently in what was alternating between frozen rain and hail doing her best drown rat impression. Cheerily enduring the muddy farm. Truly a good sport I thought as I don’t think there is a drop of farm girl in her. It was more than obvious she didn’t want to cuddle the wet hairy pigs, but she earned my eternal devotion when she succumbed to the kids begging and pleading. The mother of three couldn’t say no. She walked over slowly, as I watched giggling to myself knowing a week ago Lisa, now Awesomez, never thought she’d be standing in mud on a pig farm petting a Guinea Hog, rare or not. I am convinced this visit marks more than one experience as a first. Dare I say she liked them all? Her beaming smile seemed to indicate she was having a good time despite her hesitancy.

(Lisa aka L. Awesomez, Phoebe, Quinn and Henry with Abbey the Guinea Hog)
(Lisa making the best of wet pig hair)

(Nubian - gymnasts of the farm set)

    It was just about this time Nubians showed up to see what was going on. Each goat followed the next sneaking under a gap in the fence determined to get some of the leftover grain. The pigs, on the other hand, having licked the bowls fairly clean, decided enough was enough. Grain or no grain they were going to seek shelter. So off they trotted with the girls skipping along behind them. Henry by now had a favorite pig. A little boy he kept picking up. I know he kept picking him up because each time he did, the baby boy pig would initially squeal. Lisa said the first thing you learn about treating pigs is the essential equipment: earplugs.

(Henry cuddles the baby)

(Henry and baby boy pig)

(Henry, Quinn and Phoebe devise their evil plot to sway me)

    Soon, the baby pig was getting used to Henry and letting himself be handled and snuggled and cuddled and kissed while the mamas, Abbey and I, kept a close eye on the action.
The begging began to intensify as the three experienced lobbyists sat in the mud with the piglets. I held the line. It just wasn’t the time to get a pig I kept repeating in my mind trying to resist them and their charms. I had to concentrate on the reasons I wasn’t here to get a pig today. There are so many considerations like constructing the fence and gate, readying the barn, which I admit, is a small factor. Then there’s the money issue and the fact we’re leaving for Montana very soon, the goslings are coming and I need to figure out what to do with the pterodactyls, Cleveland and Alfred, Ruthie and Matilda so I held the line. Oh, I wavered as anyone who knows me knows. But much to everyone’s surprise I held firm, even when Lord Awesomez generously offered to sponsor the pig and its grain. I couldn’t wait to get in the car; I was ready to buckle at any moment.
(Phoebe pulls herself out of the depths of despair for the camera)

(The piglets)

    The once happy faces of the three little cherubs were now full of loss and despair as they walked the last steps to the car their hopes dashed. Henry clutched baby boy pig almost in tears. “But Mama, he’ll be gone and taken to some butcher.” Henry said in a low tone the pig snuggled up in his arms as he spoke.

    “And just before they cut his throat he’ll think of the Millers.” Quinn interjected. Great she’s a bundle of fun that one.

    “Deniiiiiise why did you bring us?” Phoebe moped. “You should have bonded more with the pigs,” she lamented.

(Sad Henry and piggy)

    “Kids, I didn’t mean to upset you I thought you’d love this, I wanted us to have fun. I told you we weren’t getting a pig today. Maybe we shouldn’t have come. I just wanted to make sure we really wanted a pig at all and if we did if this was the right breed for us. I think it definitely is and so do your mom and Lisa, but I just can’t get the pigs right now. I want to be ready.” I explained logically knowing I could snap in a moment. I had to get out of there fast. I was starting to have thoughts of going to PetCo™ to get a carrier. “Kirk said they were going to have another litter this summer and we could get an even younger pig. We’ll have everything ready and it’ll be right.” I said with conviction.

    “But he was my soul pig” Henry mourned. His soul pig? Stop. The Lisas looked at me. Three mothers knew there was only one thing to do. “Will I find another soul pig”? Henry continued moaning. We drove off and headed right for “Basketball Robins” (Baskin Robins™) where a scoop of chocolate ice cream or rainbow sherbet (if you’ve given up chocolate for Lent) in a waffle cone can still right the world once again.

   

 

    

March 28th Taking The Cake

  

  (Vivian and Bruno inside for a sleepy day)

    I love to make rules. My most quoted rule is “No eating the popcorn before the credits.” I established this rule so I wouldn’t spend half the movie popcornless. However, in recent times due to endless previews and the advent of commercials in the theatre I have had to abandon this mandate.

    Today, I had to follow the rules: Lisa’s rules. Lisa’s rule number 1. No work today. Lisa’s rule number 2. No getting out of pajamas. Lisa’s rule number 3. Happy Hour begins on Greenwich time. Lisa’s rule number 4. Henry gets to pick one of the movies.

    Once absolutely everyone had had breakfast and I had a full pot of coffee brewing we sat down to our first movie. “Twilight”. Lisa had a new found appreciation for the idea vampires could actually roam about in Washington’s weather. Next up was “Benchwarmers”. Lisa tried to protect me, but she truly didn’t make it clear what she thought we were in for. As it turns out, she found my distaste for the movie about as entertaining as the movie. I would not call “Benchwarmers” entertaining. Disgusting is more accurate, but I’m not an eleven-year-old boy or the Awesomez, who laughed far too much for my liking as the once co-founder of CABF (Co-eds Against Bodily Functions) After that we saw “Bugsy Malone” and then moved to Absolut™ Peach, lemonade and Reese Witherspoon’s debut movie “The Man In The Moon”.

(Lisa - Awesomez-, Luther and Henry warm and toasty)

(Henry's own recipe for his special Awesomez cake with Chai icing drizzle- there was a slight problem with the sunflower bundt removal, but it tasted fabulous nonetheless)

    The next morning we were up before the cows. Meeting Lisa, Quinn and Phoebe in Burlington by 5:30AM for a five and a half hour ride to the little town of Sandy, Oregon to see some rare heritage American Guinea Hog piglets at Cascade Meadows Farm. Kirk, the owner, had suggested I bring a dog carrier in case, I wanted to take a breeding pair with me. I did indeed eye one of my larger carriers before we left, but decided to leave it home. This was purely an informational trip. We were going to see another farm with heritage animals. Kirk and his partner have very similar breeds and I was extremely interested to see how they were kept. I was hoping to learn something I could incorporate. And of course, I wanted to see the piggies

    I love a road trip. You get to just be together, chat, hang out and eat. We brought along plenty of snacks for the kids and a huge portion of Henry's chocolate creation he'd made the night before. Quinn complained as she gave up chocolate for Lent, but was soothed by tastes of the Chai icing. Lisa was unhappy as she unwisely gave up all sweets.

    The seating arrangements are always worrisome, but they seemed to work out easily. Henry and Phoebe were compatible in the way back. Lisa and Quinn snuggled in the middle and I had the Awesomez in the front directing me, just in case.

(On our way down I-5)

(Henry and Phoebe in the van)

(Henry and Phoebe watching a movie on Awesomez's dvd player)

(Phoeb)

(Quinn avoiding the camera)

    “Keep an eye on her Lisa,” my sister instructed, “ She tailgates.” I was instantly annoyed. I tailgate. OK I tailgated in college. That’s just like me getting warned at every family cooking or baking event not to put the wooden spoon in the mixer – like I did when I was eight-years-old. Do you never get a fresh start?  I drove on.

    We’d almost arrived at our destination and were going through town looking for somewhere to feed and water the kids. Just as I was about to go through an intersection, "Stop!!" my sideseat driver yelled scaring me out of my wits. It seems she thought I was going too fast and was about to plow into the car ahead of us. Maybe I was going a bit faster than optimum speed, but I was not about to plow into any car. It took me several minutes to resume my previous heartrate as we drove kept looking for a place to start. I wondered if this was why she had done all the driving while she was here. Whatever.

    “Hungry kids are cranky and want to leave.” Awesomez interjected wisely. She’s right, but I think in my excitement I would have just charged forward neglecting bathroom breaks. No matter, I fell in line with the Lisas.

(Henry and Quinn clown around)

    Loretta, my navi, had a full breakdown when we got close to the farm. She had absolutely no data on this area and was close to hysterical. All we were provided was a dotted line. It was kind of like being in a video game. I took a left, as it looked like I should but the arrow turned away from the dots. We didn’t need a sense of direction what we needed was a gamer. We knew were getting close as the arrow consumed the dots on the screen. Henry provided the sound track. “Booop. Booop. Booop.” When we reached the right street we knew we’d made it to the next level.

    “Pigs!” I yelled as they came into view…
 Guinea Hog at Cascade Meadows Farm)

March 19th A Breed Apart

(Lloyd on left and Quackmire - on patrol)

    It’s one thing if my house is a bit messy and I’ve ignored my laundry, it’s another if my barn is dirty. And my barn is dirty. The last time it was cleaned, we put straw down instead of wood shavings; because it was so cold the pile of wood shavings had frozen into a huge wooden lump. Straw is ok in the short term. The animals snack on the bedding when you first put it in and it looks fluffy. However, it isn’t very absorbent and once the little critters start making a mess, you quickly have a thick urine soaked carpet you have to pry apart with a pitchfork. It’s not easy work, but it is relaxing and excellent exercise if you’re on Weight Watchers™. With every heave and ho you feel you're core tightening and your triceps readying themselves for tank tops. I was pleasantly surprised when I came in for a coffee break and the phone rang.

    “Hey, I’m coming out early.” My sister, announced from her cell phone.

    “Uh oh.” I uttered.

    “What? Isn’t today the day you wanted me to help with Anna?” She asked.

    “Yes. But my barn is filthy and I wanted it clean before you got here.” I replied meekly.
(Denise mucks)

    “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s why I’m coming early to help you muck the barn. I have my boots on, Charlie’s with me to play with Irish and I brought chicken patties for lunch, so we can make my version of the Jenny Craig™ chicken sandwich. I just wanted to know since you gave up dairy for Lent if you have any milk for coffee. I’m passing Dodson’s and I’ll stop and get some.” She explained enthusiastically. For being the younger sister, she certainly tries to take care of me since our mother died. She chides me at times and  pushes me into doing things like candling, but honestly without her I'd be lost.

    “I have milk, Henry needs it for cereal, he didn’t give up dairy for Lent. He gave up being a jerk remember?”

    “OK. See you soon.” She hung up and I went back to forking the straw out, trying to get as much done as possible before she arrived.

    On her way out to the barn, she had to navigate the band of bachelor geese and Matilda. Goosed twice by Cleveland, we decided he and Alfred needed to be incarcerated or we’d never get anything done.

    We tried talking over the din of honking flustered geese, but gave up unless we were right next to each other. I felt sorry for Miracle, the goats and my lambs. They are quiet gentle creatures and I couldn’t help but think these maniac geese were probably driving them crazy. Tom would have to help me build an annex for them so his girl, Miracle, could have some peace and quiet. Maybe in the chicken coop or where I planned to put the pig I dreamed of getting.

(Charlie & Winnifred - Lisa's dogs visit the farm)

    The morning flew; the sandwiches were delicious and just as we were about to go back to the barn after our coffee break to join Alexis who’d come by to lend a hand, Becky and Dave Heinlein drove up.

(Alexis takes over while we greet the Heinleins)

(Lloyd and Quackmire help)

    Becky and Dave had contacted me last month about possibly purchasing Anna. They live on Lopez Island in the San Juans and have a self-sustaining farm, growing all their own vegetables, raising chickens for meat and eggs and Romney sheep for fleece and meat. Their missing link is milk, which they hope to satisfy with a Milking Devon.

    I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to sell Anna, but I was open to the possibility. I had a deal in mind. Anna is a bit temperamental. Oh, she’s a great heifer and all, but she isn’t snuggly. Dave and Becky don’t want snuggly. They want a milk cow. So if they like her, they’d need to breed her so she’d come into milk and further, they’d have to breed her every year to keep her in milk. I’d want a calf. I dream of raising a calf like Norman, in “City Slickers”. A real pet. So if the day came when we had a camp, she’d enjoy being pet and touched by kids.

    All of this was racing through my mind as Dave got out of the car. I was amused to see him get out of his truck without a word and change from his good boots to his farm boots. This reminded me of the way Minnesotans live on one lake, but vacation on another. I smiled to myself, these were real farmers a different breed.

(The great boot switch)

    Lisa and I walked up coffee in hand and introduced ourselves.
“I love your hat.” Lisa said as she shook Beckie’s hand, “Did you sheer the wool, dye it, spin it and knit it yourself?”

    “I didn’t spin it.” She answered smiling. And with that we all walked down to the pasture to look at the Devons.
(Beckie & Dave)

    Anna, Abe and Andy saw us and came trotting their bells jingle, jangle jingling as they made their way over from the far end of the pasture. They knew I’d have cookies.
    I explained “I really wanted to give them more attention and train the boys sooner, I just got so busy when I moved here and had so many things to do, that kind of got pushed to the end of the list. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” I admitted.

    “Who hasn’t? That makes you a farmer.” Beckie assured me. Dave and I climbed into the pasture to handle Anna while Lisa and Beckie chatted by the fence. Anna was on her guard immediately. She knew this fellow with the hat was looking at her a little too intensely and became skittish and flighty.

 (muddy Anna looking wary)

    “This is not a McDonalds moment Anna. Settle down girl.” Lisa explained to her. “I think she’s nervous she’s going to be served with fries.” She laughed as Dave nodded backing up and giving Anna room.

    “Well, she’s got a good top line and her eyes aren’t wild. She likes those cookies.” He said.

    “We just didn’t want pasture cows.” Beckie explained. I knew what she meant - cows that run to the far end of the field when they see you coming. These three weren’t that, rather they’re always curious and under foot.

(Anna a bit more relaxed chewing a cookie)

    “We love the breed and want to help preserve it. But we have to be honest with you, we eat the boys.” Beckie admitted.

    “I think Denise is OK with that, aren’t you?” Lisa said looking to me.

    “Yes, I am. Strangely, since I’ve had the livestock I’ve become more understanding about eating them. I personally, couldn’t eat mine, but it’s the sale and consumption of the animals that sustains the breed. Slow Foods is truly helping keep the rare breeds alive.”

    “It’s true. We just don’t want breeds that take special care, ones that can’t reproduce on their own, can’t forage. That’s why we’re getting Dorkings.” She said. My ears perked up.

    “You’ve found Dorkings? Silver?” I asked excitedly. “I’ve been looking for Silver, but haven’t been able to get any. Where?” I asked and she answered giving me all the chicken particulars.

    “Well,” Dave interjected, “I think this might work. There’s some semen I’m interested in from a bull who broke his leg and just got put down back in Vermont, Cosmo, he produced some fine heifers. If we can work the A.I. (artificial insemination) situation then we’re in business.”

(Andy having a snack)

    “Kulshan Veterinary Clinic is nearby, and I’m certain I can handle that end of things.” Lisa confirmed.

     “If I can just get a copy of her registration papers. We can see how we’ll proceed.” Dave said seemingly making a decision.

    “OK. I can go get them, just a moment.” I offered.

    “You can put your hands on her papers that quickly?” Lisa said with obvious surprise as she knew me too well.

    “Yes. I can.” I said feeling proud of myself as my filing system is certainly not up to snuff, but I do know where the important things are.

    “Great, If we can the A.I. situation handled I’d do it’ I’d like to breed her about June or July so she’d have her calf about this time next year and she’d have some nice grass to raise her calf on, we don’t want her dropping in winter.” He said looking at his watch.

    “I know you’re in a hurry to make the ferry, so if you want to get going I can send the paperwork tomorrow.”

    “That’d be best, thanks for everything.” They said in unison and walked off to put their good boots back on.

(Dave and his boots)

February 21st Sixth Sense

   

(forest for the trees)

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

    “Hello?”

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

    “Sure you can miss gymnastics. Why?”

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

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

    “OK, Mama, thanks!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(me with Apache as I scrape the junk out)

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

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

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

  (Alexander on another poop pile)

(A nice cozy clean barn)

(Miracle peeks)

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

(Clara sitting pretty)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "Did Wayne cook?" She laughed.

    "Shut-up." She laughed at me.

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

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

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

    “What are you doing?”

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

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

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

    I guess everything happens for a reason.

February 16th Sweet Sixteen

  

(Sunny Bellingham Bay)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Prostock in Bellingham)

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

(inside ProStock)

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

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

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

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

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

(socks under consideration)

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

    “Hey do you practice wrestling on your mom?”

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

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

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

(my funny Valentine)

 

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

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

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

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

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

(Matilda's eggs)

(Matilda's clutch)

(Clara's nest)

 

(Henry replaces Lloyd  & Clara's eggs)

  (Henry and Lloyd - our Arnold Ziffle- snuggle)

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

February 14th Sleepless Near Seattle

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

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

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

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

(Kessa making the price list)

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

(getting the gym ready)

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

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

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

(the playbill)

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

(Lisa and Phoebe with crimped hair)

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

(Quinn taking Quinn)

(almost time)

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

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

(Henry and Nana -Annie)

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

(221-B Baker Street)

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

    

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

January 21st Begin At The Beginning

(an otherwise peaceful morning)

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

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

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

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

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

    “Is that my punishment?” 

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

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

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

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

    “Do you know the music?”

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

(Henry and some of the band boys)

(6th grade middle school band)

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

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

(Warning: I could not edit songs)

   

   

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

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

    “Is he talking about Grandpa?”

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

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

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

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

January 15th One Is A Lonely Number

(Win's in Fairhaven)

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess where Henry is?”

“Where?” Lisa asked expectantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Henry gets in)

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

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

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

    “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

    “OK.”

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

January 12th The Best of Times The Worst of Times

(finger lickin' good)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(mmmm)

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

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

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

(Tom's most recent selection)

January 3rd Runs In The Family

(Laura's stocking)

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

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

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

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

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

 (Laura and Tom)

  (Laura's Audrey)

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

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

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

(Henry and Jesse during march in)

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

    “I set a timer.”

(Henry with his coach on rings)

  (Henry again)

(Henry on parallel bars)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Tom makes a snow angel)

January 1st Can't Say No.

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Up close and personal - Vivian and Bruno snuggle)

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

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

    “I love it.” Wayne chimed in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Pea helping finish up my work)
 

 (The blue tape makes it look even more carnival)

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

  (The Donaldson's chile bribery)

(Can't resist)

(Putting on the lime wash)

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

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

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

“Maybe some blue” Henry suggested.

“A thin blue line?” Tom added.

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

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

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

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

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

(Maryruth's room - almost done)

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

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

December 31st In The Moment

  (Tom serving up his pork chops)

For the first time, Quinn had New Years Eve plans with some girlfriends, Annie didn’t feel well and to Lisa, Chris and Phoebe’s disappointment as three is too few to play many games except Kadoo™, we decided to stay home rather than brave the snow, drunks and icy roads.    
(Is Wayne festive or is it because of  not showering in a while? - Wayne wears his santa hat)

    Alexis, and Wayne joined us for a quiet dinner. To mark the occasion, I donned some of my grandmother's costume jewelry to which set off my ponytail and my hand-me-down wool sweater quite nicely. Tom grilled pork chops and served them with a sumptuous chipotle chutney I could have eaten with a spoon. Afterward we sipped Hot Apple Pies (spiced cider with Tuaca™, whipped cream topped with cinnamon and nutmeg) while we played raucous 80 rounds of Apples to Apples™.  Tom won 21 times, I was a close second with 19 , Alexis held his own in third while Henry and Wayne couldn’t seem to come up with much when faced with such worthy opponents.
(Henry downs another bottle of Martinellis)

    As the New Year approached Alexis poured some champagne he’d been saving. We tried to watch the ball drop and the fireworks in Seattle, but the snow had knocked the satellite out and I was not up to climbing on the icy roof at midnight. Instead, we talked of the inauguration, our hopes for the economy, pondered resolutions, toasted running water and wished for an early spring thaw. As I sat there in the light of the fire amongst the laughter, watching Henry sip his first champagne I dismissed nagging thoughts of increasing wrinkles, pounds and grey hair. Instead, I enjoyed the moment treelights twinkling remembering what Lisa always says right before she  smiles and thinks of Oprah's money when taking a picture. "We're never going to be younger than we are right now." Silently, I prayed for employment the ability to refinance and the health of my friends and family - not necessarily in that order.

December 30th Friendship the Perfect Blendship

(Ready for a nice chat)

    Day 16 without water is no longer a desperate situation. We’ve actually started to take it for granted we make trips to the pond, melt snow regularly and have plenty of drinking water on hand. Oh, we walk by the sink lift the handle and say, “ I wish I had a million dollars” like George Bailey does when he tries the cigar lighter in “It’s a Wonderful Life” but we never really expect it to turn on. Sadly, Tom’s even started dreaming of running water. This morning Pea went down to the creek with his new siphon he bought at Loews™ while I was tidying the house for our guests. Lisa’s family lives in Spokane so we’re practically neighbors. Which is close if you consider the eight-hour drive between Los Angeles and San Francisco something you’d do any old weekend. Today she was leaving her husband behind to work in Seattle while she drove up with her eight-year-old twins, Emily and Zach. My sister was also coming with her girls. Lisa and I had a falling out neither of us cared to remember and hadn’t seen each other since Henry was a toddler, before her kids were born and to tell the truth, we were a little nervous about how everyone would get along. I figured Quinn would hang out with the ladies, Henry would be happy to have a boy and Phoebe was simply thrilled to be a month older than somebody. 

    Tom came back cheeks flushed water jugs full. “The siphon works great!” He beamed. “I just put it underwater and it fills the jugs while I fill the big buckets for the animals. As long as it doesn’t come up out off the bottom it just keeps flowing.” It seemed like he had plenty of water, but no sooner did we do some dishes, fill the tanks of the toilets and flush them and then fill them up again so we’d have company-ready-toilets than we were practically out of water again.
(Miracle and Lisa)

    Lisa arrived with lots of smiles, hugs and jugs of water. Once the kids were bundled and happily out sledding, Wayne, Tom, Lisa, and I went out to the pond for another water run after a quick visit to the barn.  Lisa was heartily amused by the scene.
(Zach declines Lisa's efforts to bundle him up)
(Emily and Zach race up Cougar Hill as Wayne and Pea look on with Luther and Abbey)

(Rocky the 9-year-old Chocolate Lovable Lab who couldn't get enough of Luther --he pawed, he licked -he snuggled and he cried when he had to leave Lu)

(Emily, Zach and Henry hitch a ride to the pond)
(Lisa takes a tumble)

(On the way - with Vivian trailing behind)
(Quinn with a few of the dogs: Vivian, Winnifred, Rocky, Luther, Charlie and Bruno - not pictured: Irish, Abbey and Deli)

(Lisa in between hauling jugs of water to the truck - and Vivian by the frozen pond)

    “I guess this 'crik' is a long way from the Calabasas Commons” she giggled as she snapped pictures in her black faux fur trimmed coat creating evidence of my “Green Acres” way of life. Bundled in worn khaki from head to toe, wearing my snow boots standing ankle deep in the creek as I filled the next jug I had to agree. I watched Tom haul water buckets to the truck picturing him hair slicked back ordering oysters on the half shell
(Pea going to the creek)

(Pea gettin' water)

 

    “Do you have Fanny Bay’s or Kumomoto’s?” He’d ask seated in the bar at Kings' Seafood Restaurant.  I can remember Henry running in one time from the fountain outside saying, “Mom! The ring you got me fell off and I couldn’t find it. But Charlie’s mom found it.”

    “Who’s Charlie?” I asked.

    “The kid I was playing with over there.” He said pointing to a sandy-haired kid seated next to his mother wearing a red and white baseball shirt. “She crawled all around the fountain and in the bushes until she found it!” She waved hello as we nodded our thanks to none other than Jodi Foster. I’d been a fan of hers since “The Little Girl Who Lived Down The Lane.” It was true life had changed more than I’d realized, but I’m happier -although it would be nice to be able to talk to her now and show her our plans for Fort Flashback. Sigh.

(Everyone plays "Apples to Apples")
(Phoebe and Quinn with their game on)

(Zach and Lisa)

(Emily and Henry - in uniform)

    The rest of the day was filled with catching up, pizza, playing “Apples to Apples” with the kids and feeding the animals treats. “I guess I’m a sheltered city- kid, I’ve never had my hand near a cow’s lips before.” Lisa reflected wide-eyed after she fed the cows some grain. Zach played mostly with the dogs, taking a shine to Bruno and begging me to use my influence with his mother to get him his own pet. He swore up and down he’d be responsible and take care of it ALWAYS.

(Zach playing with Rocky and Charlie)
(Zach and his new buddy Bruno)

 Emily was more concerned with feeding and taking care of the barn animals and curious about my potential acquisitions. I alluded to the possibility of an American Guinea Hog and my strong desire for a few poultry varieties – chickens, turkeys and if you twisted my arm I could be talked into a duck. (Emily doing barn chores)

    The day was cut short by Henry’s mock competition. He was to be at the gym in full uniform because a visiting judge was coming in to evaluate the boys before Saturday’s competition, the Washington Open. Lisa, Emily and Zach drove down to Burlington to watch a couple of events. They stayed for the pommel and parallel bars before heading back to Seattle. Zach and Emily vowed their return while Lisa made a heartfelt promise of a long weekend soon, very soon. Henry leaned over and suggested quietly, “Mom let the air out of their tires then they’ll have to spend the night.” Looks like they got along.

   

December 21st Alive!

(Henry outside his bedroom window)

Henry the homebody decided to stay home, but Alexis and I decided enough was enough we needed to go to town. We wanted to replace my broken chains, and take a hot shower. With Alexis by my side, I exchanged the chains with some brisk convincing. And we were off to Lisa’s luxury bathhouse.

Warm to the bone and ready to go home, we gathered up the girls for a weekend on the farm. Naturally, they made popcorn in the popcorn machine and we watched a triple feature “All My Children – the memorial to Myrtle Fargate”, “Crusoe” the new series and “It’s a Wonderful Life”. By the end, everyone wished Irish’s name was Clarence, he’d have made an excellent Clarence - but tell that to the Notre Dame graduate.

(snow snuggling)
(Henry carries sled/boat)

(Quinn tumbles)

(sisters)

(Norman Rockwell winter weekend)
(Andy watching the action)

(fun, fun, fun)

(at the bottom of the hill)
(sledding cougar hill near the pasture)


(flying down the hill)

    For the next two days except for taking care of the animals and getting water from the stream by the pond, it was sledding and more sledding. We brought the inflatable boat from the pond to accommodate us. Henry and I carried the boat up the most with Quinn complaining. “Tell us Phoebe, when are you going to carry the boat up?”

“I di-idd!” Phoebe whined with a familiar, this-snow-is-so-hard-to-walk-in-and-these-boots-are-so-heavy-I-don’t-think-I’ll-make-it-up-the-hill-one-more-time-tone.

“No you did not.  Denise carries it up for you Phoebe. Is it because you’re the littlest and you can’t?” She said with the distinctly bitter older sister tone.

(making the goose bed and leaving food)

(Henry and Alexis walk on the frozen pond)

(the pond gets smaller and predators can get closer)

I remember when I was five my mother saying “Hold your sister’s hand, she’s so little she’s just three yet”. Only to hear her saying when I was eight “Hold your sister’s hand she’s only five.” I guess I was wired for big sistering though, because I liked taking care of Lisa. If she fell, I helped her up. When she was little I’d make treasure hunts for her on vacation and help her find the clues leading to the buried treasure of candy rocks in the middle of the Painted Desert. I taught her to count to 100. Of course, she was the brave one. She would go right up to kids and ask them if we could play too. Naturally, we fought, and sometimes I thought our neighbor, Jennifer Spaulding, was more fun than boring old Lisa. It was like those then my mother would always say, “Friends will come and go, when I’m gone Lisa will be there. Always take care of each other.” Quinn and Phoebe bicker much, much more than Lisa and I did, but I’m hoping they’ll muddle through it.
(going to bed)

(Vivian chases Bruno)

(Bruno charging through the snow)

    Getting them home started with loading up the laundry and putting the geese away and ended with digging out my car and getting my new chains on. Eventually, we rolled along, Phoebe and Henry watching Jack Benny in the backseat.

    Lisa’s was a dream. Henry and I each began our treatments differently. I sipped on hot tea as Lisa baked cookies. Henry took a towel and spent some time in the Jacuzzi and sauna before his shower. Lisa helped me start the laundry. I followed Henry’s path and donned clean clothes at the end. After dinner and “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” (my father’s favorite Christmas special) when I finally had everything folded we loaded up the car. Getting the car out required, Chris, driving, Lisa digging, Phoebe shoveling and me adjusting the chains. It took us almost two hours just to get me out of their steep driveway. I thought of staying the night, but I had the animals, the house to clean and Christmas was just days away. There was so much to do at home.

    “I’ll call you when I get home.” I said as I watched them start digging Lisa’s car out so she could get to work in the morning. Slowly I crawled home listening to some radio call in show “Neighbor to Neighbor and Driver to Driver” about how snowed in everyone is. Ex-Ohioans were giving tips on how it’s done in the real cold. Washingtonians were mentioning with the steep hills doing some of what the “experts” said wasn’t so easy. Henry slept in the backseat.

    I pulled over three times to check my chains. Once at an Arco where I had a man help me tighten them one more notch. Once as I started on Mt. Baker Hwy and finally just as I turned on to Mosquito Lake Road. I drove at a snail’s pace as the radio show turned to static in the Welcome Valley. I eventually punched the button and started singing Christmas songs. We were going slow but steady in the toasty car. We wound around the ominous “S” turn and went carefully over the one lane bridge. We were only two miles from home as we came to the last real obstacle. The one I’d been nervous about the incline. This is where the road ascends a couple hundred feet. I shifted down to and tried the hill. We got about half way up and began sliding backward. I turned the car gently and guiding it backward down the hill a ways and shifted down into the lowest gear. I tried again and got a little farther. I tried again and the car began to slip making strange grinding noises almost all the dashboard lights lit up. The brake light, the ABS light everything. Startled, I sat in the car thinking as giant fluffy flakes fell. I had to weigh my options. If I tried again and again, more than likely I wasn’t going to make it the snow was almost six inches thicker than when I left. If I tried and failed, the car could slip backward and go over the edge. The drop off is severe. Not wanting to risk it, I backed the car down the hill closer to the one lane bridge until I came to the road sign warning drivers a stop is coming up. I tucked the van under the sign hoping to make us as visible as possible. It was on the wrong side of the road, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near the edge if someone came down the hill and lost control. On this side of the road we wouldn’t be in the line of a skid.
    My mind raced thinking of all the possibilities. Should we get out and walk? We’re only two miles from home. I thought of Henry sleeping in the back seat. His boots were so wet I made him put plastic bags around his feet before we left. He was so tired and the snow falling so hard and I was wearing blue suede boots without any tread. I looked in the car for a flashlight; I had one in my emergency kit. Turning it on, I couldn’t believe how puny the beam looked. We couldn’t walk Henry would never make it and I wasn’t leaving him here alone.

    “Henry, Henry, Henry! Wake-up Honey. Henry I’ve got to talk to you.”

    “What? What? What! Mama, I’m so tired”

    “Henry, I’ve got to talk to you. You don’t know where we are.”

    “We’re at Lisa and Chris'’”

    “Um, no we’re not. We’re on Mosquito Lake Road and we’re stuck. We’re going to spend the night here, Boo.” I didn’t want him waking up in the middle of the night and freaking out.

    “What?!! We’re going to spend the night in the car, Mama?”

    “It’s OK, Honey.” I cooed. “We’ll be fine. The car is nice and warm. We have all our laundry from Lisa’s, so we have lots of things to keep warm. Lisa gave me water before we left so we really don’t have anything to worry about. We’re safe in here until someone finds us.”

    “What if something scratches at the window?” Henry sounded panicky.

    “Henry, people go on safari in vans – we’d be fine even if Karen, the cougar, paid us a call. Who knows we might even see something amazing out here alone.” With the car still running and the lights still on, I opened the side door to the van. The snow came all the way up to the floor. I told Henry to lean out and pee. You don’t have to tell a boy to do this twice. I went outside and did the same.

    I reclined the backseats and tried to get Henry comfortable for the night. He was wearing snow pants, but only a t-shirt so I had him put on a couple more layers out of the laundry bag. He put on my old red elf hat he’s taken to wearing and without another word snuggled down under the comforter like a little hamster burrowing in. I was alone again. The heater still blasting I sat next to Henry watching the snow. I leaned forward and turned off the car. I’d filled up in town when I adjusted the chains, so I had plenty of gas, but I didn’t want to waste it. It was dark. As my eyes adjusted I could see just a faint hint of light outside the car as the snow began covering the windows. It got cold in the car quickly. I knew it wasn’t crazy cold because it was snowing, but the comforter wasn’t going to be enough to be comfortable.  I was wearing my jacket, but Henry’s was still wet from sledding. Robinson Crusoe popped into my head, as did every survival tip I’d ever heard. “Be careful of snow covering your tail pipe and carbon monoxide filling the car.” “Keep the windows open a crack.” Robinson’s secret to survival was gathering all possible supplies before he needed them, so taking a page from the book I started to do the same. Crawling into the trunk area I started digging around. I found flares and threw them in the backseat. It didn’t seem they’d too be useful as no one could see them. I kept digging. I found an old pair of Tom’s water shoes. They might be useful if I had to walk in the morning. I could put them over my boots. I threw them in the back seat. I got Henry’s Toblerone™ bar I’d bought him for Christmas. We could share it in the morning. I tossed things around uncovering Jumper cables, rope, and the emergency thermal blanket. I opened the blanket and put it over Henry under the comforter. “Keep the baby warm, keep the baby warm” went through my head like some deep maternal mantra. I thought of the little girl who’d died in Seattle a couple of weeks ago sleeping in a car with her parents. I snuggled in next to Henry.

    In the quiet, I prayed. “Dear God, thank you for keeping us safe and warm. Please take care of us through the night. Please let Lisa hear me.” I sat nervously looking around me. The bears would be hibernating by now. Cougars wouldn’t be out in a night like this. Truly I was more worried about bad guys than animals. I’d read “In Cold Blood” for book club. Suddenly a loud crash on the top of the car, like a nervous cat I jumped out of my seat as I realized it was a tree dumping snow on the car.

    “Lisa, can you hear me? I need you. Find us.” I knew she’d be panicky by now. She wouldn’t go to bed and forget about me. I’d told her I’d call and I knew she’d worry. We’d been through enough crises. She wouldn’t dismiss this. We’d heard a news story last year about a woman who was missing for a week. Her husband finally got Verizon™ to access her phone and locate her via satellite. Lisa had said, “I’ll tell you what, if you were missing it wouldn’t have taken me a week.” I knew too she and Chris couldn’t make it out here. Not on this road. She’d call Tom and he might call Alexis. I waited hoping for headlights to come around the corner and find us. As I looked out into the dark, I realized I didn’t have my camera if we did see something amazing. Which meant, we’d probably see sasquatch. Maybe he’d help us like dolphins do divers. Why do I always think a sasquatch is male, I wondered.

    I turned on the engine every hour for a couple of minutes heating up the car. About 1:00AM I gave up hope of rescue. The next thing I knew, I heard banging and scratching at the window. I looked up and saw a black object in the window. Frightened out of sleep I sat still thinking this is what Henry was afraid of.

    “Dee! DEE! Are you in there?” It was Wayne! Lisa had heard me. I knew she would.

    Prince Charming had arrived. “Wayne! Wayne! We’re here!” I unlocked the doors.

    “Lisa called. She had the highway patrol looking for you. When they didn’t find you on the main road, she had me come looking for you. I’m so glad you guys are all right. I was so scared.” He explained hugging me.

    “Wayne. I was afraid something would scratch at the door, I never thought it would be you.” Henry exclaimed. “Mama? Can we go home now?”

    “Yeah, We’re going home Buddy.” Wayne said with a smile.
(digging out the next day)

(Wayne shoveling us out)

December 6th Home Sweet Home

(Victorian Gingerbread House)

    Lisa, Annie, the girls and I went to the Holiday Gingerbread Competition held by the Port of Bellingham in Fairhaven. The poster on the wall told me every year families, students, groups and even pre-schoolers compete in different categories for the best “this” and the best “that” of gingerbread house design. It’s free to enter and it’s free to view. I believe everything is edible, but I haven’t seen the rules. Yet. There are prizes in many different categories. Once the ribbons are awarded, the culinary masterpieces go on display in the Alaska Ferry Terminal until they are sold at silent auction. All proceeds go to the local Red Cross

(Gingerbread Train )

(Gingerbread Candyland™)
(Gingerbread Barnyard - marshmallows as hay silage)

(Gingerbread pumpkin patch - detail of Barnyard)

(Gingerbread pig pen -  detail  of Barnyard)

(Barnyard from a different angle - cinnamon sticks as firewood, real mini pumpkin as prize pumpkin)

    It is the type of event that reminds me what a small town Bellingham is at heart. Families and groups getting together to build things with cookies, icing, gingerbread and marshmallows - just for fun and to help raise money for charity. I was overwhelmed by the number of entries. Rows and rows of tables formed a maze to display all the designs. There were no grand prizes except a few things that were donated. Kids ran respectfully up and down the aisles pointing out their favorites to parents and friends. Some children tugged on their grandparents' arms, begging them to put a bid on one or another. The minimum bid was not $100.00 as one might think, rather it was a mere $10.00; a small sum to pay for quite a lot of work, but wonderfully affordable for the average person to consider donating – even in these economic times.

(Gingerbread House - Traditional)

  (Gingerbread House - Scandinavian)

(Gingerbread Igloo and penguins)

(Gingerbread Santa's Sleigh - notice reindeer use two cookies so they have both antlers - igloo and penguins in center)

  (Santa's Sleigh detail - igloo and penguin making a snow angel)

    At first, I didn’t know what caught my fancy more, the houses or the people viewing them. Everyone was careful of the entries. No one knocked anything over, broke any cookies or snatched Santa from his sleigh. I just couldn’t imagine that happening in a bigger city. This is the kind of place where you look up and there’s your mother’s friend looking back at you. I know because it happened to Phoebe when she saw Patrice, who's a friend of Lisa and teaches at Phoebe’s school.

(Gingerbread of a Turtle Legend)

(Gingerbread "Goodnight Moon" with rosemary trees)

(Gingerbread "Goodnight Moon" detail -  a peek through the roof - complete with electric light)

  ("Goodnight Moon" front)

    We were supposed to vote for the People’s Choice award and, despite my views on always voting, I simply couldn’t decide. I loved them all, each gooey confection had such charm. I could just imagine the time, the late nights, the laughter, the Christmas music, the inevitable arguing and the pride each group felt as it finished its project. Sure there were those that were of professional caliber and those that showcased amazingly unique ideas, but every single one was sweet.

("Lord of The Rings"  - Helms Deep)

("Lord of the Rings" detail - Gandalf the White)

("Lord of the Rings" detail )

(Christmas Present - Kitty) (Reindeer on one of the entries)

(Gingerbread Birdhouse - complete with birdbath and popcorn fence)

    I looked at Lisa over the gingerbread “Bird House” and said, “I think we should enter next year.”

    “Are you kidding? I already have our idea.”

    “What? Your idea?” I said, shocked she was separating into a different team – those Donaldsons!

    “Yes, and I don’t think I’m going to tell you,” she said excitedly. 

    “Don’t bother. I don’t need your ideas, little sister!”

    “Mom,” Phoebe interrupted, “They’ve got Tom,” reminding her of what I'd been thinking all along. But I secretly worried whether Tom would be around or whether Henry and I would be up night after night doing the Gingerbread Competition while sending digital photos back and forth to Tom in Ventura and following his instructions over the phone. I pushed these fears aside as ideas danced through my head.

    “Yeah? Well, the Donaldsons will see just how the cookie crumbles!”

    Ahh, a new Christmas Tradition, with a whole new meaning for the Christmas spirit.

  (Gingerbread Lynden Windmill)

(Gingerbread depiction of the Chinese Zodiac)

(Candyland™)

(Christmas Tree)

(Gingerbread House of Cards)

(Gingerbread Lighthouse with sharks)

("After the Twister"- note witch's shoes under house)

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 several times and splashing in the water. They came back with their boots soaked. But they were all smiles talking very fast of their adventures. They went inside and made a pitcher of lemonade before they took the goats out for a walk. Only Rachel and Christina were on lead ropes. Riley and Alexander just tagged along due to their herding instinct. Rachel is the herd queen so they’ll all eventually go wherever she goes. Riley and Alexander scampered about racing up and down the hill nibbling on bushes and butting heads.

(Phoebe the goat girl) Although the pine trees did distract the boys, they stayed together beautifully. I hope pine isn’t harmful to them because they seemed to love the needles. Unfortunately, they also had a penchant for my blueberry bushes. So I ran over shooing everyone away as I have visions of blueberry crumble dancing in my head.

    Watching them I felt like I should hear yodeling. Henry actually yelled “Riiiicoooolaaaa” at one point.

    After that, they moved on to calling the geese and intermittently helping build the fence. I gave a couple of lessons in power tools and everyone worked with the level. Phoebe loved the cement mixer just as much as Henry. (Phoebe goes solo)

(Henry shows how it's done)

    “Are we ready for cement?” she asked hopefully every few minutes. She got the same boring we-have-to-do-this-and-that-first-before-we-pour answers.

    Late in the afternoon, Lisa and “Nana”, Chris’ mother Anne came out to fetch the Pheeb. Anne hadn’t been here before so we took a tour of the property and discovered the snakes have come out from hibernation. I jumped a mile every single time we saw one. Lisa kept saying things like “Isn’t he dashing.” “This guy is really quite handsome, look at his yellow stripe.” She suggested that if she caught one and I held one I might feel better. Now, I know they can’t hurt me, they’re small and there isn’t a poisonous snake in Western Washington, so it’s not like they’re rattlers, or Water Moccasins, (which is why no one in their right mind should live in Florida) but let’s just say I’m not wearing sandals anytime soon. I’ve got to figure out how to keep the grass lower because I’m afraid of my own yard. Lisa suggested the next logical step was a heritage mongoose. On our walk we found a bird’s nest with a broken egg, five snakes, a small field mouse in the last throes of life as well as countless frogs and toads. Taking a walk to the pond is like a mini-camping trip. I don’t think we saw this much wildlife except the deer in the North Cascades.

    When we got back to the house, Lisa went in and had a heart-to-heart talk with Henry. He’s had some trouble lately following directions and is making quite a few bad choices. He is ten after all, but I don’t like to chalk things up to “he’s a boy”. I’ve seen that go wrong too many times. So Lisa talked to him. She has a way of making you spill your guts. The two of them have a great rapport and he told her things he’s been afraid to tell me for fear of disappointing me. Crying he told me he needed to tell me a few things. A kind of cleansing of the soul which is why we have confession. I'm grateful Henry has Lisa to talk to. It's hard on all of us with Tom so far away, but with fathers in Iraq he isn't the only one who doesn't see his daddy every day.

    (Grandpa Horn & Phoebe give the geese a much appreciated shower)

     After Phoebe lost the battle of “Can I spend another night at Tante’s?” (German for aunt) Lisa, Anne and Phoebe went to her van to leave. They had to get back in time to take Quinn to her next party. She has a very full social calender. Leaving less than a minute and a half to spare - verging on late (as usual),  Lisa gathered her things and her child and finally got to the van only to discover somehow her keys had been locked inside. Why did she lock her car? No one knows.

    “Mom, we can call the dealer.They'll come.”

    “Honey, that will take a long time and it’s not the dealer it’s Triple A.”

    Reluctantly, I offered my Odyssey. Not that I mind Lisa taking my van, but I was completely embarrassed at the state of it. I had papers and PopTarts™ littering the floor. Coffee cups were strewn about. My initial resolve to keep it clean had waned. I handed handfuls of shirts and envelopes to Henry and gave the keys to Lisa shamefaced. As they were driving off, Anne offered to come out and help me clean. I should have said, “No, you don’t need to do that,” but I didn’t. She’s a great cleaner and I’m in no position to deny needing help.

    Mike, Henry and I cleaned up our construction mess, put away Tom's tools, herded the geese who’d been mowing the lawn all day back in the garage and settled in for the night. My father had already gone into Bellingham. It was, after all, Saturday night.

    We decided to watch “Sleepless in Seattle”. Of course, I’ve seen it many times, but it was like watching it for the first time, watching it from Washington. We laughed like only people in the Pacific Northwest do when we saw Tom Hanks carrying an umbrella. No one carries an umbrella. Only dorky tourists from California carry "dumbrellas" (as Tom calls them). And then there were several scenes where it wasn’t raining at all and some were actually sunny – in the winter. We weren’t even sure it was actually filmed in the Northwest at this point. Exhausted, I was moisturizing in my blue strawberry PJs and fuzzy socks. and just about in bed at 11:45PM when the phone rang. It was my father’s cell; when I answered I could hear music and a lot of laughing.

    “Hey, I just thought I’d let you know, we finished and I’ve been invited to a party, so I’ll be home late. Hey, I met a nice young shy girl who's name means harmony and beauty in Vietnamese.”  What? Honestly, This must be what it’s like to have a teenager. All I can say is at seventy-one, the man has a joie de vive.

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