As The Butter Churns

February 21st Olympic Odyssey

 (Lindsey)

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

     “Do you really think you’re up for another one of my children?” Awesomez asked me over the phone.

     “Is that some sort of warning?” I asked. “Actually, I just hope Lindsey isn’t bored. I don’t have anything big planned,” I explained.

     I went to Seattle with Nick to pick her up while my dad took Henry to gymnastics. Everyone was excited to see her, especially her brother. 

 ("The Big-un" Irish was especially happy to see Lindsey)
  (Lindsey snuggles The Big Boy - Irish)
 

During the days Lindsey helped me with farm chores and errands, during the afternoons she went to gymnastics with Henry or volleyball with Quinn and saw Nick at night.

     She saw Grandpa Horn teach band, she helped with the judging at one of Henry’s meets and she met all of Quinn’s friends. She did homework, painted and kept me company.

  (Lindsey sets to painting)
 

 (Grandpa Horn talks to the band)

 (Henry and Lindsey listen to Grandpa Horn)

 (Lindsey flips)

 (Lindsey lands)
 

 (Lindsey works with the ring judge)
  (Nick - hanging out)
 
 
     On Saturday while at Henry’s gymnastic meet, Chris turned to me and said, “We were kind of thinking of driving up to Vancouver tomorrow, you game?”

     “You want to go to the games? The tickets were $600.00 the last time we checked,” I said.

     “Well, we’d like to get into something, Lisa’s checking for some last minute deals but really we thought we just go up and soak in some Olympic atmosphere and see what we see,” he offered.

     I thought about it, I’d had plans we were finally going to try and go get Petite, but that could be postponed. Then there was the problem of Nick. He couldn’t seem to follow any of the rules at home or school so he was not going to be allowed to join us. And then I wasn’t sure if Lindsey even had her passport. We couldn’t go without Lindsey. Luckily, Lindsey’s brilliant mother had the foresight to pack her passport. We were good to go.

     The next morning, we met the Donaldson clan at Nugent’s Corner and all piled into their van. Henry had hurriedly painted red U-S-A posters to take with us “just in case”. The paint was still wet so we put them on the dashboard to dry and headed north.

     Crossing into Canada is one of my least favorite things to do, but if we wanted to go to the Olympics, we had no choice. I prepared the kids. “Now remember, these people have not one ounce of humor in their bodies. You don’t kid, joke or in any way say something sarcastic. Don’t get nervous, just speak if you’re spoken to, don’t add any information, just answer the question being asked”. I instructed.

     “And don’t forget your name!” Lisa added.

     “What?” Lindsey questioned.

     “Henry got so nervous once, he forgot his name,” Quinn informed her.

     “It was just enough of a hesitation for the guy to think I’d kidnapped him” I said dryly, giving my child a look.

     We approached the border and took a collective breath. If the kids didn’t believe me before, they did afterward. Lindsey was grilled and questioned until she was close to a nervous wreck. She answered everything calmly as the Canadian border guard checked all the missing child reports.

     “Who makes you breakfast?” He looked at her seriously. I wondered what she was gong to say. I hadn’t really made a real breakfast.

     “She does,” Lindsey said pointing to me.

     “Do you know her name?” He asked seriously.I worried she was going to forget my name.

     “Denise,” Lindsey answered. Whew.

     “Do you have a note from the mother?” He asked me.

     “No. I don’t, but she did provide the passport,” I offered.

     “You see where I’m going with this?” He asked.

     “Yes Sir and I’d be glad you were asking these questions if it was my child,” I said knowing I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but feeling as though I somehow looked guilty.

     “Do you have any proof of your flight?” He asked. And with all the excitement of a contestant on “Let’s Make a Deal.” Lindsey answered

     “Yes! I have my airline ticket!” She searched her pursed and offered him her ticket. He let us pass.

     "That was certainly the golden ticket, it’s what tipped the scales in our favor. Way to go Lindsey,” Chris praised her.

     “You handled that beautifully,” Lisa added, “Denise do you make breakfast?”

    “I know, I was wondering if Cheerios™ and bagels counted,” I smirked.

     “It’s a good thing you warned me,” Lindsey said depleted.

     From there we made our way onto the King’s Highway and set our course.

     “How long until we get there?” Phoebe asked somewhat predictably.

     “I have no idea, Honey. You act as though I’ve been there. We’re just figuring it out as we go,” Chris informed her as the glare of Henry’s USA posters baked in the sunshine reflecting on the windshield.

  (Henry's U S A sign reflecting)
 

    We parked and joined the party that was Vancouver. Walking down the packed streets you could feel the goodwill. We formed a buddy system, I took pictures of the kids in what they were wearing – just in case – and we set up our if-you-get-lost plan.

  (Canada hats)
 

    “Look there’s Italy!” Henry called out.

 (Italy)
 

     “And Russia!” Lindsey yelled as she saw a red jacket walk by.

 

     “I want one of those USA hats,” Phoebe announced.

     “I want a pin,” Lisa said, “I didn’t get one in ’84 when I went to the equestrian events and I really want one this time”.

     “I want tickets to an event,” Henry insisted. “I don’t care what it is, I just want to go to something”. And so did I. So Lisa, Henry, Phoebe and I took up the hunt as Quinn, Lindsey and Chris meandered slowly captivated by the street carnival. Every time I turned around I couldn’t help but count the kids. I felt like I was on a field trip.

 (Bronze-colored street performer)

 (Broadcast booth in Robson Square)

 (Free zip line over the city - 6 hour wait)

 (Zip line launch next to the flag)

 (painted Canadians)

 (a building in Vancouver)

 (flags fly everywhere)

 (the Dutch)

 (Olympic mascot)

 (Lindsey clowns)

 
 
  (Sweden)

 (Nike™)

 (yeah for our team)

 (the private family entrance for competitors relatives - dreams were being dreamed)
 
 
  (Henry, Lindsey, Quinn, and Phoebe)

 (Vancouver 2010)
 
 
  (Everyone has spirit)

 

 (Henry, me, Phoebe, Lisa, Quinn and Chris)
 
 
       “1-2-3-where’s Lindsey?” I asked.

         “I’m right here,” she said practically under my arm.

         Not knowing where we were going, we followed the crowd across Vancouver in a hurried pace. We didn’t know where but we knew we had to get there soon if we wanted tickets. Henry approached every scalper he passed, but they were mostly buying not selling.

     “Your mother would be crying by now,” I told Lindsey as she caught up.

     “I know, right? She’d still be back at the car. She walks so slowly,” Lindsey said laughing.

     “I’m so happy to hear you use an adverb,” I gushed.

     “You’re such a teacher,” Lindsey smirked as we were in a half jog along the street.

     “Why are we going so fast?” Lindsey asked.

     “’Cause we might miss something.”

 (en route to the ticket office) (Blast we were behind Captain Canada)
 

     Lisa, Phoebe, Henry and I broke into a run, moving ahead of the pack as we approached the Olympic ticket window. I knew my sister and we both were thinking these people walking near us might oust us out of our potential Olympic experience. We got to the line and eventually to the window.

     “Is there anything? Anything within a modest budget?” she asked the ticket agent. “We need seven seats”.

     “Seven? Wow. Let me look”. And she looked and she looked and we waited anxiously. “I have seven seats to women’s curling tonight”.

     “Curling,” Lisa turned to the kids now surrounding us, “Do you guys want to go to curling? Should we spend the money?”

     “Hell Yes!! I’ll go to anything,” Henry yelled. 

    "Henry you gave up swearing for Lent," I reminded him.

    "Is Hell a swear word?"

    "YES!" Lindsey said.

     “I don’t know anything about it, but I’m up for curling,” Quinn agreed.

     “Is that the one where they use the little brooms?” Phoebe asked.

     “Yes, it is, does that sound ok?”

     “Sure it’s the Olympics,” Phoebe agreed.

     “I’m with Henry I’ll go to anything,” Lindsey answered.

     “Heck yeah, whooo! hooo! Curling!!! Let’s do it!” Chris cheered in great zeal. As we stood there basking in our Olympic triumph we noticed a family standing nearby somewhat despondent. They obviously didn’t get any tickets.  Noticing them, Lisa walked up and tried to help.

     “Did you try getting seats for curling?” Lisa asked the woman. As it turned out they were from Orcas Island and no she hadn’t tried curling. So she got back in line and scored 5! Happily, we all struck up a conversation before departing for the curling match? Curling meet? Curling game? Curling event? Or curling tournament? We weren’t sure.

  (proof we are really going)

 (Lisa at the ticket office)
 
     Tickets in hand we were a bit more relaxed and ready to learn about curling. After riding a train packed like a sardine the Canadian equivalent of BART where I counted at every stop, “1-2-3-where’s Lindsey?”

     “I’m right here,” she said.

  (On the train after it thinned)

 (Lindsey and Phoebe walk and walk)

 (pretty Vancouver)
 
  (Lindsey and Henry- ready to order)
 
      We stopped at a Chinese restaurant for dinner where the kids had their own chopstick freestyle event commentated by the Amazing Donaldson. Afterward we set out walking the rest of the distance to the stadium. I was certainly getting all my steps in for Weight Watchers I thought.

     “You won’t believe it, but a cabbie just asked me where the stadium is,” Chris laughed as we all continued walking. We walked and we walked and we walked first down a busy street and then into a residential neighborhood. There nary a sign marking the route. If it hadn’t for the rest of the curling crowd we never would have found it.

 (Quinn, Phoebe, Lindsey and Lisa on the move)
 

 (lots of details)
 

 (security screening)

 (we're in!)

 (The Chinese are ready for curling)
 

    Excitedly we went in and found our seats. “1-2-where’s Henry? He’s not here,” I informed the rest of the confused group.

     “He was with us at the entrance,” Lisa reminded me.

     “He’s supposed to turn his cell phone on if he’s lost,” Quinn reminded me.

     “Do you think he will?” I asked getting mine out and about to push the button.

     “No,” Quinn and Lindsey answered as we all hurried back on a sweep of the grounds. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My father had filled me with too much child stealing information. My mind sorting through similar memories looking for a match as I ran. I remembered another time Henry had disappeared in a public place. It was in Macys when he was two. I was shopping with my friend, Laura, Phoebe’s godmother. We had just turned our heads for a moment and he was GONE. Frantically we looked, and eventually found him hiding in one of the rounders...

February 7th What Happens In Vegas

 (South Point)

     Bright lights, slot machines, racy billboards and blue-haired ladies with bedazzled jean jackets. We go every year to Vegas in February for the gymnastics Black Jack Invitational. It’s another chance to spend the weekend with Tom who drives in with Henry’s brother and sister, Craig and Laura. And the Lucky Strike extra, we get to see Olympians and Olympic hopefuls during the U.S. National team selection. There’s a super cheap $48.00 direct flight from Bellingham which makes it doable.

  (if it looks like a duck and talks like a duck it's probably - Nick)

    This year there was some debate on whether Nick would join us after his recent behavior, but after some discussion it was decided he would lose his phone, computer, ipod and all choice and independence. To my surprise he took it in good stride accepting the consequences of his actions – at least for now.

     We arrived on Friday leaving time for cheap drinks and a little gambling. Laura lost a little, Tom lost a little and I’m not sure but I think Craig lost more. Meanwhile I went to the room with the kids so Henry would be rested for 6:00 wake-up call. 

  (Laura tries her hand at Black Jack)
 

    In the morning Henry took a bath, had breakfast and mentally prepared for the meet. We dropped him off for warm-up went to breakfast and settled in to watch level 6. Nick worked the video camera and Tom did the stats. Several cups of coffee and six events later we were seated at the awards. Henry had only one personal best at the meet, but he was consistent scoring strong fourteens on everything except on pommel horse.

 (Nick isn't ready to get up)
 

 (Henry doing his Danny Phantom imitation on the bars - with Coach Gordy)

 (Happy Nick?)
 

 (Austin Rudy - at work)
   

 (Mt. Baker's Level 6 - Henry, Trey and Austin)

     As I sat there waiting I watched a woman console her son as he threw a tantrum because he didn’t place in the All Around. I remembered how we’d gone to Vegas the first couple of years and Henry hadn’t gotten anything while his team mates Dylan and Jake raked in the awards. Still I would have been furious at him for such a poor sportsman like display. This boy had two medals around his neck.

    This year I figured Henry would get a medal or two. In the end, he got a third, two seconds and a first place. I was thrilled. In fact, I thought he might for the first time win something in All Around. Craig had calculated the scores so I knew when I heard the sixth place All Around score called I knew Henry would get something. I sat with my camera ready as I heard Trey get fourth. It was at that moment that I realized Henry had a chance at winning. I held my breath. Austin was called for second place. Tears started streaming down my face as I listened to “And your All Around Champion, Henry Miller!”

  (Henry takes 1st place All Around - Austin is 2nd and Trey is 4th)
 

    He looked out at me smiling. My lip was quivering and tears and my tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe it, it made all those hours driving and waiting and watching worth it as I saw the pride on Henry’s face. And his father’s and his brother’s and his sister’s and Nick’s. And let’s face it at least someone in this family won in Vegas.

 (Proud Pea- and his kids Laura, Craig and Henry)

 (Mt. Baker Gymnastics - Coach Gordy Bylin, Austin, Henry and Trey)

 (The arcade)

 (The Winter Cup Challenge)
 

 (Opening of the National Team selection- Jonathan Horton and company)

 (Tom and Nick say good-bye)

 (Nick - the height of fashion)

 (Henry playing fantasticcontraption -with his trophy for the plane - my gamble an earlier flight )

 (Henry, our flight attendant Mimi and Nick)

 (Henry's present from Mimi for winning the All Around - Mimi instructed to share with Nick)
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

February 4th The Surprise

 (Mike's old room -otherwise known as the storage closet- or a really big junk drawer
    

 Henry, Tom and I had been planning for weeks to surprise Nick for his 16^th birthday with a “While You Were Out” makeover of his room. We wanted him to have a place of his own instead of the pink Maryruth room. We thought if we transformed Mike’s old room it might encourage him to try harder and find his way. He had started school with a vengeance, but had slacked off.

    I scoured Craigslist for weeks to find the perfect bed. I looked at round ones, and full ones, loft beds and daybeds. Each had their pros and cons. The round was cool, but took up the whole room. The full wasn’t much better. The loft would keep the floor space clear, but Luther was not a gymnast and Rat-bat wouldn’t jump that far down without braking a leg. Nick likes to sleep with dogs so that wouldn’t do at all. Most of the daybeds were girlie and iron – which can be so annoying when your back pillows fall through the bars. Finally I found a wooden captain’s bed with built in drawers and a pullout trundle. I figured it could be used as a sofa and yet it had the trundle for guests or possibly it would be just a giant dog bed, but I let that go.

  (getting the bed)

 (Annie - Chris's mom- and I went on a road trip to get our bargain)
  

    Henry had taken pictures of graffiti art he thought Nick would like on the walls and Tom was practicing his urban technique so he could put the finishing touches on during his next visit.

 (Henry's inspiration- and Tom's direction)
  

    Phoebe had secretly interviewed Nick about his “dream” room and had gotten our color scheme. Purple and green – I added black.

  (paint ready to go)
 

    I hired a drywall guy to come fix the walls. He had to sneak in after we left in the morning and leave the room closed with stuff stacked in front of it so Nick would get wise. My dad took the gauntlet, priming and painting.

 (drywall in progress)
  

    Henry and I took advantage of the days Nick was with his math tutor at my sister’s house shopping for a TV, a stand and pictures. We opted for a black duvet with circles that screamed graphic-teenage crib. Then we found pillows. Henry campaigned for giant pink and red heart floor pillows “So the Nicky knows we love him.”  Henry would say in his goofy voice

  (the circle sofa comforter)

 (Getting there - 3 walls purple and one green plus the closet interior- dresser to go black)
 

     When Henry was at the gym I went around looking for dressers I could fix and paint. I eventually pounced on an old rickety one that showed promise. It was the right size and with a little black paint and some spiffy knobs it would work.

     Tom laughed. “Black? You want to paint everything black.”

     “Black makes everything better” I informed him. “Would you prefer white?”

     “No.”

    “Red?”

     “No,” he responded again.

     “OK then – black,” I decided. Tom laughed again mentioning the Rolling Stones sang a song about that.”

     I had just picked up purchased the knobs and arrived at the gym to pick up Henry and was chatting with Awesomez about the cool knobs I’d found when the call came.

     “I’ll call you back in a sec.”  I told her as I saw the caller id and clicked over expecting to hear my sister’s voice reminding me to bring eggs to town tomorrow.

     “Uhhh, I’ve got some unfortunate news to tell ya,” Chris said into the phone. Chris hates the phone. I mean hates the phone so much in fact, he will be standing right next to it and listen to it ring over and over never considering picking it up. This I knew instantly was serious.

     “What is it?” I asked. I didn’t think Nick was injured; Chris didn’t have a panic or a fear quality in his voice.

     “I just caught Nick smoking pot in my guest bathroom.” My heart sank. I’d worried about Nick’s apathy, his dismal grades, his indifference. I’d feared he might be resorting to pot, like so many kids but so many times he’d denied it. He’d warned Henry about what a terrible thing it was. He’d seen people who’d gone down the wrong road. He swore he’d never do that. I wanted to believe him.

     “I talked to Nick for awhile but there wasn’t much response. He just nodded.” Chris said flatly.

     “He did it in the guest bathroom? How dumb is that?”

     “I know. The whole area reeks. Oh Lisa’s just walking in.”

     “Have you told her?”

     “No. I’ll tell her what’s going on and you call Gomez. We’ll talk later about what’s next.” The line went dead and I stood there in the middle of the happy chaos of the gym. Kids were laughing, toddlers bobbing around with mom’s trailing behind. I felt quiet. Sad. I didn’t want to call my friend and tell her. This was her baby we were talking about, the little boy who was so good at football and could flash that charming smile.

     When they’re little you stay up all night with them when they’re sick. It only takes a little bit of peek-a-boo or a cardboard box to make them happy. You worry about every tiny thing. You drive them around and pick them up when they fall. When they’re little it sometimes seems that it’s so hard. It’s unimaginable that it’s going to get harder. But then you discover they’re problems grow with them.

     How was I going to tell my friend? She’d seen too much tragedy in her life. She just wanted her family to be happy and healthy and together. She knew the pain of drug use; she’d seen it before. I didn’t want to call her. I thought of Henry stealing the candy bar. I didn’t want to call her. I didn’t want to break her heart.

     “Lis, I’ve got some news.”

 (Irish found one of the heart pillows in the garage - somehow poignant)

 

 

January 29th Planes, Trains and Automobiles

 (clearly I need to dust-my room is always the last cleaned)
 
     The alarm jarred me awake at 4:30AM. Terrified I would fall back asleep I shot out of bed. Quickly raced down stairs and hit the coffee then headed for the dryer and checked my tennis shoes. I did not want damp tennies. I fed the dogs, cats and headed back upstairs to roust the boys.

     Nick was understandably reluctant burying his head under a pillow. He’d worked until the early hours of the morning on a China essay, but nonetheless, we had to get going. Henry and I were meeting my dad and Quinn at the airport to catch a flight to Oakland so Henry could compete at Stanford this weekend.

     “Nicky, if you don’t get up. I’ll have to sing a good morning song.” I threatened. “Good Morning, Good Morning little Nick – You don’t have time to sleep now you’ve got to get up really quick.”

    NO! I’m getting up. Don’t sing!” He pleaded.

 

(Nick and Rat-Bat Bruno -in the pink girlie Maryruth room he's staying in- they're blurry because NICK changed the focus on my camera for school)

 (poor pink - Nick - he's trying to claim the room, but it's difficult)
 

 The phone rang. “Saved by the bell.” I said answering the phone, “Hey Mike thanks for calling, I’m up.”

 (Even new little Tabitha who NEVER sleeps is tired)
 

     We were out the door in short order and on our way, as Henry and Nick finished another “Kung Fu” episode en route.

     “I can’t believe you guys are leaving me on my birthday,” Nick moaned.

     “I know, I can’t either,” I agreed.  “I had no idea when I booked the tickets for the Stanford competition that it was the same weekend.” I felt terrible we were leaving, but suspected he was going to want to spend most of the time with his friends anyway. He’d worked hard getting in his missing assignments and meeting his deadlines. I was proud of his recent efforts.

     “You could have come,” Henry said.

     “No, it’s finals I really couldn’t.” Nick added practically.

     We drove in silence all of us reluctant about our upcoming separation. Lisa was meeting us at the airport at 6:45AM with Quinn and my dad and we were exchanging passengers. She’d take Nick to school and I’d d fly out of Bellingham International with my entourage.

     After lots of hugs and “Happy Birthdays” and “Good-luck on your final” and “Don’t for get to turn in your Vis Comm. assignments” and “Do you have that paper you needed?” and “You’ve got your snack bag right? And “Have fun,” Nick got in Lisa’s van.

     “Good luck with Dad. He was ready at the door like a golden retriever waiting for a ball. Rushing me to leave an hour before we had to go. But I had to laugh, we left and HE was the one who forgot his reading glasses.” She said chuckling. “Have a great time. Good luck Henry!” Lisa called out the window as she drove off.

     After getting our seat assignments Henry, Quinn and I put our bags down right in front of Halibut Henry’s, a tiny store, in the small airport.  I looked around, “Where’s your grandfather?” I asked.

     “Uh, I have no idea,” Quinn said. “Maybe he went to get a coffee?”

     “No. He went through security already.” Henry said.

     “What? No. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave us.” I said, but knew the truth. When it comes to traveling he is a lone wolf always rushing. “Henry go look in the bathroom.”

     “OK, but I thought I saw him go through security.” We waited while Henry searched the airport for my father. Finally, I dialed his number.

     “Where are you?”

     “I went through security. I thought you were right behind me.”

     “I thought we were traveling together.” I said slamming the phone shut.

     It was probably best he’d gone ahead because we are a security check nightmare. Two bins for jackets, shoes in another, two computers out of their cases in separate bins. A bin for my purse, a bin my camera and a bin for my carry-on, then cell phones and Quinn’s shmancy belt in yet another bin. I think my father would have had a break down.

     We landed inauspiciously in Oakland and made our way to Air BART where we paid to get to the BART. My father maintaining a forty-step lead at all times.

     “What’s with Grandpa he’s always way ahead of us? He acts as if it’s a race” Quinn mused.

     “He likes to keep moving, when I was a kid we were always three hours early for every flight.”

     “He’s crazy” Henry marveled.

     “He likes to get where he’s going early and then read,” I explained.

 (Grandpa Horn pensive - because he's behind schedule?)
 

     From there we heaved our luggage on to the transport. Once at the BART station we figured out how to purchase a senior ticket, two kid tickets and a regular fare, once purchased, we had to make our way through the turn-style. This is simple for most people, but most people aren’t Quinn. She was scared. She put her ticket in and then didn’t know if she should grab it or which one to go through and for a moment I thought we might have to leave her on the other side of the plastic orange gates, but surprisingly she was able to amble through at the last moment.

     “I thought it was going to close on me!” She screamed.

     “Oh, Quinn.” Henry chided.

     We were making our way to first to San Francisco but eventually to Palo Alto. I didn’t want to rent a car because Tom would be driving up and it seemed silly to have two, so we were going to make our way on public transportation. If it killed us.

     As we took our seats on BART Henry turned “At least this time it doesn’t smell like urine.”

     “EWWWW Henry! Stop!” Quinn shooshed him.

 (Quinn, Henry on BART)

 (Ahhh the city - San Francisco)
 
      Twenty minutes later we climbed the steps of the Embarcadero exit, Henry quickly realized we were standing at the same street corner we had last year.

     “Mama that’s exactly where we were standing in the rain when the drunk guy was bugging us remember?”

    "Henry you look like a goat herder with that hat on," my father decided.

    "What?" Henry "Why?" 

    "Where's your goat?"

    "Grandpa! You're so weird," Quinn had made her decision.

     Ahh memories, I thought it was time for some new ones. “You know we don’t have to be at the hotel at any certain time. Is there anything you want to do?”

     “I want to ride a trolley car,” Quinn announced.

     “I want to eat,” Henry added. “Hey there’s a trolley car going to Fisherman’s Wharf, can we go?”

     And off we went, my father leading the way.

 (Grandpa Horn leading the way with Henry close behind)
 

 (Trolley car)

 (Pier 39)

 (Quinn get's her wish)
  (Missing Nick - on Fisherman's Wharf)
 
     Taking a page out of my mother’s handy-dandy-have-a-good-time-and-make-memories-philosophy, we decided to go for a nice white tablecloth lunch. Spotting Aliotos, we crammed ourselves into the elevator suitcases and all.

     Henry ordered grilled salmon, my father had a beer with his fish and chips and Quinn stated “I don’t eat fish.”

     “Oh yes you are young lady.” I insisted. “You are on Fisherman’s Wharf and you will eat something on the menu other than bread. Have some fish and chips. Just pretend it’s chicken nuggets.”

     “Alright, I’ll have the chicken nuggets.” Quinn acquiesced reluctantly, but good-naturedly. “Just don’t call them fish.”

     “I’m so proud of you,” the waiter laughed as she ordered. “You’re really stepping outside yourself.” He teased.

 (Henry, Quinn and me at Aliotos)

 (part of the view from Aliotos on Fisherman's Wharf)
 

     We enjoyed our lunch although the food wasn’t as good as it had once been, but the view was spectacular. The sky blue with puffy white clouds and boats bobbing in the distance, we talked about so many different things.

    "Where's your goat Henry?" Grandpa Horn barked as he made his way to the restroom.

     “Denise, I didn’t know Grandpa was so funny.” Quinn remarked.

     “I know right? I always thought he was uptight without much of a sense of humor, but he’s laughing and telling jokes,” Henry added.

     “I know, I’ve never really seen him laugh,” Quinn said.

     “Really? My father has always been funny. He’s the dad who’d dress up or build a float for the parade. He’s the big eight-year-old who never grew up. I think it’s that he can’t hear your high-pitched voices as well so he doesn’t really respond.”

     “I always thought he was serious until today,” Quinn said and Henry nodded.

 (Henry and Quinn with full tummies)
 

     As we stood at the Wharf waiting for the trolley, Quinn said she wanted to look inside a bakery nearby. So the two of us went in and browsed for a while. When we came back we found Henry wound up like a top.

     “YOU MISSED IT! Grandpa went to war! Full on war with the Jamaicans!” Henry blathered.

     “What are you talking about?” Quinn asked looking at Henry as if he’d lost his mind.

     “The Jamaicans over there were playing to a big crowd and Grandpa pulled out his horn and started a rivalry. They’d play and then he’d play and then he stole some of the crowd it was crazy,” Henry babbled proudly.

     Henry turned to Quinn, “Quinn, since I want to switch from the cornet to the oboe, next semester do you think my grandchildren will call me Grandpa Oboe?”

     Quinn paused a moment looking at Henry, “The way you dress, with that stained sweatshirt I think they’re going to call you Grandpa Hobo,” she said boarding the trolley.

     “The oboe? Are you kidding?” My father exclaimed when he heard. “You’ll sound like a *&%$#@% snake charmer. You won’t be able to play jazz. No one uses an oboe.”  My father snarled. Undaunted, Henry just rolled his eyes. This family is not for the faint of heart.

     “They had an oboe in the Paul Whiteman Band. I checked,” I said protecting my son.

     “Did they?” My father was silenced.

 (Grandpa fresh from the battle of the brass - Quinn and Henry - getting a little tired)
 

  Grandpa Horn was up and down on the trolley ride three times asking the conductor when we should get off and what connection to make to get to the train station. And once we were off we marched at a fast pace crossing streets on the diagonal, weaving through crowds of people all the while toting our luggage.

     Finally at the bus stop we waited with a huge crowd. Bus after bus came and went while we waited for the number 30. Eventually, it arrived and we crammed into the center holding on to straps while trying to protect our belongings.

     “Mom zip your purse and tuck it under your arm, this isn't Bellingham,” Henry warned me. I was touched. He remembered all my warnings about theft and crime and was now protecting me.

     The crowd thinned out stop by stop and yet we continued to ride until the end of the line. When it was our turn we gathered together adjusting our straps and stacking our luggage ready for the next leg of our journey.

     “How far to the train station?” Quinn asked innocently.

     “Uh Quinn, it’s that big building in front of you that says TRAIN STATION,” Henry said.

     “If she had a brain she’d be dangerous,” my father added and Quinn giggled so hard she almost fell down in the street.

     Once again, we stood trying to figure out how to get a senior ticket to travel three zones, two kids’ tickets and a regular fare. Each time we did it was completely different yet easy once you knew what you were doing.

     “What time is it?” Henry asked.

    “3:05PM” My father answered.

     “The train leaves at 3:06 let’s go!” Henry called as he and Quinn took off.

     “We’ll never make it,” Grandpa Horn warned, “It’s too late.”

     “We’ll make it, we’ll make it! C’mon Grandpa run!” Quinn yelled over her shoulder. Her hair and legs flying in all directions, “Now he wants to take his time!”

 (Henry and Quinn race to the train - Henry figures if he gets on - we'll all get on)
 

    We boarded the train out of breath. The kids victorious wanted to ride on the upper deck and so we sat watching the scenery go by. I fell asleep as did everyone else. We were losing steam. An hour later and three exits before our stop, my father started getting his stuff all packed up and strapped on. “We’d better start downstairs we only have a couple stops until San Antonio,” he warned. “It’s going to take a while to get down the stairs with all of our stuff. C'mon Henry don't forget your goat."

    "Grandpa why does this hat make you think of goats?" Henry asked again laughing.

     “He’s doing. It again.” Quinn said. “He’s driving me nuts. It’s maybe 50 steps altogether.”

     “Welcome to my childhood.” I said.

     “No wonder you’re always on time. You took part of it, and my mother completely rebelled. This must be why she’s always running late.” I laughed as Henry and Quinn psycho-analyzed us, which is fine as long as I come out the good one.

     “Let’s hang back just to drive him a little nuts,” Quinn said insidiously.

     “Fun and games with Grandpa. The only problem is, I don’t think he’ll care,” Henry said. “He’ll just leave us behind,” Henry laughed.

     When we’d all gotten off the train and it had snaked away. We stood there in silence. It was quiet and we were in the middle of nowhere. There were no shops just apartments. Which way next was a complete mystery. We just stood there for a couple of minutes thinking about our predicament.

     My father wanted to head right, so of course Quinn said left. We went left and my father dragged behind. We ended up at a little cybercafé where we got an espresso and directions to our hotel about another mile away. 

 (The Crossroads Cafe)

 (Grandpa Horn looking for directions)
 

    My father charged out the door and down the street as it began to rain. “So much for sunny California,” Quinn moaned.

     “Hush, just keep walking,” I encouraged. “We’ll be there soon.”

     “Not soon enough, I just want to get in the heated pool,” Henry said dreamily.

 (Quinn now wishing she'd chosen to go to the Las Vegas gymnastics meet instead)
 

     As we walked we approached a hardware store. “Stay here. Watch my stuff. I’m going to go in and see if we’re heading in the right direction,” Grandpa Horn announced.

    When he emerged he announced there was a faster way but we had to double back the way we came. The rain was getting harder so in true Washingtonian fashion, we put our hoods up and went on.

    “Grandpa, there’s a lady from the hardware store whistling for you! Stop Grandpa!” Henry called from the back of the line.

    We all came to an abrupt halt as my father went over to talk to her. “Would you like a ride?” She asked pleasantly.

    “Sure, we’d love one,” Grandpa Horn answered all smiles. Quinn shot me a look as if to say ‘are we really going to hitchhike’? I know she was wondering what her parents would think of this. I too was wondering what I thought of this. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged my shoulders unsure. I weighed the options, I could walk a mile or so in the rain with my father and two kids or take a ride from a slightly overweight woman who seemed smitten with my father. We took the ride.

 (Grandpa Horn loads the luggage)
 

    “Grandpa’s a chick magnet,” Henry said quietly to Quinn as we got into the back of the truck who nodded in agreement.

 

 

 

 

January 1st The Game of Life

 (Bruno trying to get a Monopoly- stretching out - from Luther's bed to his new one - )
 

    New Year’s Eve is a time for reflection. What got accomplished and what didn’t. I try to accentuate the positive, but after taking a tally for the year I have to say 2009 was not my year. Sure there were successes we built a chicken coop, the pond was filled with water again and we got a snuggly bovine not to mention that gentle equine rapscallion, but in the end – I’m more than ready to move on. 2010 for me is a hope for a better tomorrow.  A hope for a pig or two, the belief that I’ll be the hero of the family and make enough money so Tom can move here full time.

    To this end, I spent much of the day allowing my superior Virgo instincts to take control, stuffing my overly emotional Pisces moon to the side. I began by making my new daily schedule. The key to success is organization. I know this deep in my heart, just as I know butter is the secret to happiness.

    Tom, Mike and I sat around in the kitchen in our pajamas with big mugs a coffee as I held court. I began with goals for the first quarter. Goals for Henry’s Honey, goals for weight loss, goals for Henry, goals for Nick, goals for the house, goals for the farm, goals for Irish and goals for Tom. After all a Virgo girl knows everyone in our life needs us to take control and help each of them out a little bit, gently guiding each of them in the right direction. It was just as I was about done that I heard Mike slinking out of the room trying to escape. I have ears like a deer – ask any fifth grader whoever tried to tell a secret in the back of my classroom. “Not so fast Michael. I hear you skulking away,” I hollered into the hallway.

    “What?” He laughed. “I thought it best I exit about this time. It seems it’s about my turn.”

    “I’ll leave you alone for now,” I promised like a cat letting the mouse go – for a time.

    For dinner Tom thoughtfully cooked a delicious chicken potpie from my Weight Watcher’s Comfort Classics Cookbook. We rented The Sting, Julie & Julia and Four Christmas’s then built a fire and settled in for a comfy evening. We got a late start on the New Year by about twenty-five minutes. Snap, we were already behind schedule.

 (black-eyed peas for prosperity in the New Year)
 

    The next morning, I confirmed our plans with my sister “We’re making black eyed peas…”

    “We were planning to come over around noon if that’s ok.”

    “That’s great, but I feel badly. We rented an auger this weekend so we could get four days for the price of one and put up the arena fence down by the barn. I just don’t think we can stop working until later in the day.”

    “We’ll wear our work clothes then. Sounds fun. I’ve never used an auger. I’ll tell Mike and Tom and we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

    “Really?,” she said a little surprised.

    "You bet." I turned to Tom after hanging up. “The Donaldson’s need to put up some fence so we’re gong to help them. She thought we be bummed.” He laughed.

    “Do they know us?” He smirked.

    “I know right?” Henry interjected.

    “You mean we have to work?” Nick moaned, “That’s not my job.”

    “Finally, something really fun to do over there.” I chirped as I went to throw on my boots. I love a project.

 (playing the parts of Ma & Pa Kettle- a tired, rained on dirty pair of love birds - Chris & Lisa - )

  (Cody and Tom meet - while Phoebe cleans the corral)
 

 (Phoebe works hard)

 (Mike & Chris use the auger to get the posts in)

    We got there and got to work in short order. Quinn made dinner – chicken potpie from the Weight Watcher’s Comfort Classics Cookbook.

    “We just had that last night,” I laughed.

    “It’s OK, I could eat it for every meal,” Mike encouraged her.

    “Me too!” Henry agreed wholeheartedly.

    “I really like it, it has a good taste. The fennel really gives it a fuller richer flavor,” Tom concurred.

    I supervised the preparation while doing some other chores. Quinn chopped onion, sautéed garlic, baked and shredded chicken, measured broth, melted butter, combined ingredients and learned what a saucepan is.

    “I am never making a dinner that takes this long again,” she whined until it was served to a bunch of very hungry fence builders who loved it beyond measure.

    “Mom? Maybe I could make this again soon since you were looking to pay me for doing some of the cooking.”

    “Really? I thought you,” I started as Quinn jabbed me sharply in the ribs.

    Quinn, the quirky accident prone girl who thought she had a sixth toe one morning, because she counted wrong and was immediately concerned that she might have to pay a higher price for pedicures seems to have turned into a fairly multi-talented teen. She's determined to save enough money for a car when she's sixteen and so she' babysits and has a projected amount she needs to save a month for the next three years. So to add to her income she is teaching herself how to cut hair. She cooked dinner and then offered to cut Tom’s hair. She’s b has been practicing on Chris and needed some different hair.

 (Quinn is teaching herself)

 (a lesson from the book - Chapter Seven "How to cut short layers into the hair")
 

    “She gave me side bangs,” Phoebe said as she showed off her new do.

    “Well, your bangs aren’t at all even,” I pointed out critically. I hated to do it, but if I was going to consider having my hair trimmed I might want to wait until she’s had some more practice.

    “That’s not my fault. She’s just annoying she keeps sweeping that part over. She didn’t want me to cut it,” Quinn corrected as she leaned forward and fixed Phoebe’s hair.

 (Phoebe chatting and laughing about her side bangs and her sister)
 

    Tom took the risk as Quinn wrapped the towel around him. “Oh my, the drape doesn’t reach entirely around your shoulders, they’re so broad,” Quinn cooed.

    “She’s got the talk down. She’ll some make good tips.” Tom offered.

 (Quinn is ready to cut tom's hair)

 (Quinn hard at work on Tom's hair - he looks a little nervous)
 

    “Hmm. Let’s see do you think boys are going to pay five dollars to let Quinn cut their hair? Yeah, I’m going to say they’re going to line-up,” Mike concurred.

    “Your next Mike,” I laughed.

    “ I'm game”.

    “Considering it’s our Quinnie, I think she should call it Running With Scissors,” Lisa smirked.

    “That’s a great name, Running With Scissors.” Tom said enthusiastically. “Running With Scissors that’s it absolutely.”

After the men were sheared, we played the board game, Ticket to Ride, endlessly and about thirty-five rounds of Bingo.

 (endless hours of family fun)
 

 (Henry calls Bingo)
 

    “I hope you’ll all be here for Swingin’ Singles Night on Saturday – that’s B -4 as in before you get married,” Henry called in his velvety announcer voice.

    Tom won the lion’s share with his lucky card. Quinn was second then the Pheeb. Everyone played one card, but me. I had five. I figured I'd improve my odds.

 (Tom and his Bingo card)

 (Phoebe hates that Tom doesn't put a chip on the FREE section of the Bingo card)
 

    “Denise, you played a lot more than the rest of us. You must feel like five times the loser. Hey, great start to the New Year by the way,” Chris chortled snickering at his own joke in an asthmatic sort of way. "Hey you guys coming back tomorrow?

 (some of my cards -)
 

December 7th Tree Topper

 (Edward and Alexander nuzzle)

Like some sort of crazed elf I got my not-so-perfect icicle lights up the day after Thanksgiving. In turn I like to put up the Christmas tree on December 1^st to coincide with the commencement of the advent calendar. This way I can eek out every single moment of the Christmas season, but after last year’s Yuletide adventure, and our recent below freezing temperatures, I didn’t want to go out into the forest if there was even the slightest chance of it getting dark.

Luckily, the boys had early release from school today, which meant we could finally go out and get some Holiday cheer. I informed both of them to be ready to jet home after school so we could have a snack and get out there.

“After some Mac & cheese then can we go?” Nick pleaded.

“We’re starving,” Henry added. Awesomez (pronounced Awesome – EZ) and I agreed since I had a bunch of winter chores like putting a de-icer in the cow trough and moving the goat and sheep water trough to the Kubota barn where I could plug in a de-icer for them while they’re out during the day.

 (Denise, Silence my faithful companion - and a lot of ice)

 (now there's water under the Kubota barn)
  

 (cow trough)
 

 (Bruno proves one man's trash...) 

 (Nick- napping again- taking lessons from a professional- Luther- Bruno also pictured)
 

 (Henry is ready to go get a tree)
 

By the time we got back, Henry was ready to go, but Nick had slipped into a deep, deep sleep on the sofa in the family room.  And as hard as we prodded there was no budging Nick.

We couldn't wait for Nick to get up we'd lose our daylight. Henry fired up the tractor, Awesomez had Irish and I had my limb saw in hand. iWe set out with all the dogs. First we went to the pond to assess the ice. When we arrived we found the geese frolicking in the bit of water that was still liquid. Stopping to watch them for a while, Henry threw rocks out to see how thick the ice was. Surprisingly it was able to withstand some hard throws and some big rocks.

     (an Awesome-ez popsicle)
 

     (Henry lets one fly)
  (getting thick)

 (Possible tree)

 (Irish tied up in his own lead)
 

Worrying about the time, we pushed on going slowly so we could look discriminatingly at different types of conifers We checked out firs, pines, hemlocks and cedars. Rejecting many we finally settled on a possibility. A very tall tree so tall Awesomez was shocked.

“Really? That one? It won’t even fit in your house,” she implored.

“Well, you see if you look at it, you have to cut it. Right there. Otherwise it isn’t very full,” I explained pointing at the tree.

“Where did all the dogs go?” Henry worried. “You never know where Karen is, I’m going to go look for them,” he told us as he hopped off the tractor. We followed reflexively. I didn’t like him alone in the forest. It’s that one time you don’t worry that you should have. So I worry all the time.

“Karen’s the cougar,” I explained and she nodded.

“I remember.”

Henry had run a head and was returning with Vivian, Luther and Bruno by the time we got to the top of the hill.

“What about this one?” Awesome-ez wondered pointing to a really great tree.

“Awwwwe that’s perfect!” Henry exclaimed. “Let’s get this one!”

 (Henry with Luther and Vivian)

 (Henry to the left of the proposed tree)

“Sounds good to me,” I agreed, “It’s close to the path and it should fit pretty well in the bucket. You know, it’s about the right size for the game room as is.” I marveled. “Good eye! Lis Let’s get it down.” I said walking up and putting my saw into action. In just a moment it was down. In another it was in the bucket and we were in theory on our way.

 (taking it down)

 (Almost done)

 (the tree it's mine!)

 (Me - loading the tree while Henry drives)

“I can’t see over the tree.” Henry lamented.

“We can hold a stick up in front of you and you can just guide the tractor toward the stick.” Awesome-ez suggested.

“OK. Let’s do it.” Henry agreed readily. Although in short order it became clear that wasn’t going to work. He just couldn’t maneuver the tractor and see the stick and keep the tree balanced on the bucket. Awesom-ez offered to take over and Henry agreed giving Awesom-ez a quick refresher course about the controls and we were off once again.

 (Awesom-ez and the direction stick)

 (Lisa's got her stick)

 (ready to go now)

 (Henry's got the stick and Irish as Awesom-ez follows with the tree)

Our parade moved slowly down the steep hill and past the spot that spelled disaster for us last year. Thinking back I realized I’d meant to price winches this year. I really had to get on that. It ‘s something you don’t’ think about until you need it like a flashlight, Earthquake water or insurance. The other day my dad’s friend, Chad told me just to get a hand-cranked one, but Tom informed me that despite the increased price he was a staunch supporter of the motorized version. Easy for him to say, I still didn’t have one did I?

 (It's hard to see but the rocks are where the tractor went off the path last year and into the creek which runs under that mossy log)
 

Anyway this year’s tree was going so well it really was too good to be true. Oh I mean I wish there’d been snow for added charm, but the brisk air was plenty of ambiance and now that we’d passed the danger zone it was smooth sailing.

Henry ran ahead with Irish. He didn’t have gloves on and his hands were frozen flesh.

 (Henry runs home with Irish)
 

I hopped on the back of the tractor while Awesome-ez navigated us home. She adeptly got both ends of the tree through the narrow gate without incident. And just when I thought the adventure was over, it began.

“Mil?  Didn’t you say the goats thought the pine branches that blew down during the windstorm were a delicacy?”

“Yeah,” I said casually.

“What if they go after the tree?” She said cautiously.

“Oh, I can’t imagine that,” I said with confidence

“Oh no? Then why are they running over here?” She wasn’t just whistling Dixie. They’d spied the tree and were after us like a band of highway robbers.

 (They can't help themselves the goats begin to ravage the tree)
 

“Quick grab the tree!” She said grabbing one end.

“I’m trying! They’re eating it. I can’t lift it out of the bucket without breaking it.”

“Just grab it!”

“Got it!”

“OK now run like you’ve got the football Mil. Now!” And run we did. She had the front half of the tree and I had the back with four goats running after us trying to eat the top of our new Christmas tree.

“They’re nibbling the top!” I yelled.

“Keep moving!” She yelled back without turning around. “I’ve got to get the gate in a second.”

“Hurry, they’re eating the tree, tearing off branches!” I screamed willing her cold fingers to get the latch.

“Got it! C’mon!” She instructed and I obeyed slamming the gate behind me.

I looked over at her and she was half laughing half panting. “They’re like piranha.” She wheezed.

“I can’t believe they did that. It never occurred to me we were in peril.” I said watching Christina lean over to try and munch on the tip of the tree.

 (Christina is shut down)

 (Awesom-ez securing the tree)
 

 (never give up?)

 (inside at last)

 (Up!)
 
 
 
 
 

November 12th With A Huff And A Puff

 (Dashingly handsome Cluck-Cluck and not so demure Silence Dogood snuggle up on a cold wet night - on top of the rabbit hutch- can we expect turkens?)
     

    It rained and rained and rained torrential frightening flood kind of rain and the wind howled and blew with more ferocity than the big bad wolf. Branches littered my lawn like pickup sticks. A tree went down by Amy’s place; two were down by the pond. I spoke to my neighbor, Dave, he told me the guy next to him lost seven trees. And more wind was predicted. We decided to wait on the cows until things settled down.

    Only they didn’t settle down. In a day fall had disappeared replaced by winter. Every leaf was blown from every tree revealing a stark beauty. Jeff canceled me for work because of the storm. We lost power for 14 hours and I still couldn’t get the blasted generator to work. Tom and I had changed the spark plugs, checked the fuse, jumped the battery, made sure there was gas and oil, but still nothing. Not knowing what to do I called an old friend. After all when you need help with a motor, call a German or if you can’t find one, an Austrian will do. Franz explained the ins and outs of the carburetor. Where to locate it, how to get to it  and what to spray in it. Then he described in great detail how the spray functioned in the thing.

 (Franz Neuwirth)

 (the mighty Centurion 15000- a  powerful beast - if it worked)
 

 (the air filter - with the carburetor to the right)

 (the top of the geni - Franz)
 
 

    “So you mean it’s like a can of hairspray? If you don’t use it all the time it gets clogged in the nozzle and you have to unplug the goop?”

    “Uh yeah, Neezer, something like that,” Franz replied indulging me.

    "Franz, what you fail to understand is I don't want to know anything about generators, carburetors or air filters."

    "Neezer, you just don't have that luxury. You live in the land of Hansel and Gretel."

    I acquiesced and did as he instructed, or so I thought. After my first attempt didn’t work, he went over the basics again.

    “So you spray the stuff and you don’t put the air filter back on until you’ve jumped the battery?”

    “Right, the evaporation rate of the starter fluid is too great. Just give it a good ‘psssst’ down the throat of the carb and it should fire.”

    “Should.” I had my doubts, but I was determined. When I tried, I had to get the tractor right up to the house lifting the bucket high in the air. This made me nervous, because if the hydraulics gave out and the bucket fell on top of me there was no one to take me to the hospital. Then again like almost everyone I know, I currently don’t have any health insurance so I’m not up to taking any chances. If I got hurt who’d make dinner or feed the animals? I put my fear aside and set to work when I heard a creak. The wheels of the tractor had started to slip slightly on the soaked ground and I panicked. The tractor was uphill from the propane tank. My mind raced at the catastrophe that was possible. I jumped on the tractor pulled it down the hill and turned it off.  Scared. I decided it was time to stop. I had to go pick up the boys from school anyway.

 (This summer I really meant to paint that generator shed to the left of the tractor
 

    “Franz, I couldn’t do it. I got scared.”

    “Can’t you ask some randy cowhand to come by and help you?” He asked in his slow sleepy Franzel voice.

    “I asked my brother-in-law, Chris, and he just laughed and said he didn’t even know what a carburetor looked like. He said his gender didn’t make him motor proficient. Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you get the gist. Tom would help me, but he’s not here. You know maybe I can ask my new neighborly neighbor Dave to come by,” I mused.

    “You really should have someone there with you.” He said making me feel a little less cowardly. “If it doesn’t work next time, you might have to take the carburetor out and take it apart. Is it water cooled or air cooled.”

    “You’re kidding right?”  I asked and he laughed at me.

    “Uh no. It might just be too clogged. Or it still could be the spark plugs.” He suggested.

    “OK, OK, OK.”

    “Neezer? Do you have power now?”

    “Yes, it’s just that there’s been a lot of bad weather, we’re expecting more and it’s getting colder. Last year my pipes froze because my well pump doesn’t work when the power’s out. And my animal heat lamps will go out in the barn. It’s not really a problem yet, but I’m trying to get this handled before it is.”

    “Ahh planning ahead.”

    “Trying to.” I said hanging up.

    By the time we were ready to drive home the winds were picking up again so I told Nick I’d drive. He grumbled for a moment, but I think he was secretly relieved. He’s a good driver now and always prepared to compliment himself, but this was a little unnerving. We wound around state route 9 in silence and turned on to Mosquito Lake Road. We were almost home when we came upon a tree across the road resting on some kind of line. Was it a power line or phone? I didn’t know. We debated whether to turn back or go on.

 (To go or not to go? That is the question)
 

    “We have to feed the barn animals,” Nick said matter-of-factly.

    “With the bridge out, if we drive under it we might be trapped tomorrow. We might not be able to get out.” I explained.

    “And that’s a problem why?” Henry asked not wanting to go to school.

    “Yeah, I think we should take the chance. Going back means driving all the way back to Bellingham.” Nick added.

    “Nick maybe you and Henry should get out of the car while I drive under it. I think it’s safer.”

     “I’m not going out there. What if there’s another cougar? You kiddin’ me.”

    “Nicholas Lyle,Berger no cougar is going to come anywhere my van with the lights on and I have a horn.”

    “I am not going to be some kitty snack. I’m not going to lie. I’m afraid of the dark.”

    “Nick, I don’t want to take any chances. What if my van brushes one of the limbs and the tree comes down?”

    “I’ll take my chances.” Nick assured me in a tone that confirmed I wasn't getting him out of the van with out a crowbar. 

    “I’m doing what he’s doing.” Henry chimed in.

    In all honesty I didn’t know what the right answer was and having encountered four cougar in two years. The brown bear relocation project flashed through my head. A complete long shot, but who knows what evil lurks.

     I pulled up to the tree and punched it. I might own a van now, but it wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I would have thought a van a fate worse than sensible shoes and cotton panties. I went from my yellow CRX si to a sedan with a mean clutch when my mom had a breakdown I had strapped Henry’s car seat into two-seater. I inched forward and peeled out. Safe on the other side I started thinking about the morning. Amy, Andrew and little Max had a plane to catch to see her family for Thanksgiving.

    I called Puget Sound Energy and reported a downed tree on their line. Then I called Verizon and reported a downed tree on their line. I wasn’t taking any chances there was a tree down in our yard and the wind was picking up.

    “Yes, Ms. Miller we’ll be out to fix it. We promise to get there by uh… Tuesday.” A distracted woman from Verizon informed me.

    “Tuesday. Tuesday? Are you aware it is currently Thursday?” I asked incredulously.

    “Yes.”

    “Are you further aware we will be blocked in if the tree falls and it is not removed?”

    “Is there a phone number we can reach you at Ms. Miller?”

    “Not if the tree goes down.”

    “Oh right.” She said and I hung -up.

    I dialed my newly acquainted neighbor, Dave.

    “Dave, I hate to bother you, but I thought you should know, there is a tree hanging from a line blocking both of us from town. You might want to bring your chainsaw with you when you go to work. It might on the road by then.”

    “Thanks, I will.  The winds are terrifying. A really big pine tree went down roots and all by my house in the middle of the night. It smashed my 80-year-old chicken coop.” His voice was heavy and sad.

    “Oh that’s horrible.” I said shocked.

    “The dry summer, the endless rain and now the wind, it’s not a good combination. Every chicken I had died smashed into the ground. It’s funny I really miss them. I was attached you know?”

 (Dave's smashed chicken coop)

     “I do know. Do you think I should have the kids sleep downstairs? Or do you think I’m going too far. I don’t want to scare them.”

    “I don’t know you’re place is pretty in the clear except that front bedroom.”

    “That’s Henry’s, maybe I’ll have him sleep with me.” I thought out loud. “Well, see you soon. Say hello to Gnatalie and the boys.”

    “Thanks for the chainsaw tip. No one much cares what happens up here. If we get stranded we’re last on the list.” He pointed out.

    “Dead last.”  I agreed. I hung-up made a cup of Earl Grey added a splash of 2% and started researching how to clean a carburetor – just in case.

November 8th Git Along Little Dogies

 (a beaver sighting across the pasture and after closer investigation I located a dam! Not at the pond - but in our creek)

    When we woke up on Sunday morning, Henry couldn’t see outside. “It’s like a carwash out there.” Not our usual. Sure Washington is known for it’s rain and most people complain about it constantly to keep the tourists away, but truly we usually get a misty rain. Only tourists carry “dumbrellas” as Tom calls them. In fact, I’m not quite considered local wearing a hood as I do on occasion. I asked a customer at the Everybody Store if she shouldn’t put on her jacket to go to her car with the downpour we were having. She turned and smiled over her shoulder at me as she put me in my place. “I’m from Washington. It’s not like I expect to stay dry.”

    Now almost full-blown Washingtonians it was time to bring our cows home. Weather or not. Armed with determination, some lead ropes and a bucket of grain. The boys and I followed my neighbor Dave’s instructions to his house. We turned left on the logging road and proceeded straight. He’d opened the metal arm that normally blocks any misguided motorists from venturing deep into the forest.

    “Hasn’t it been at least a mile?” Nick wondered as he drove carefully down the gravel road.

    “Maybe we missed it?” Henry added. “Maybe we were supposed to turn back there where it forked.”

    “Nope, there’s the old dump truck he was talking about.”

    “Wow that is an old dump truck. And look at that old horse trailer,” Henry noted.

    “Doesn’t look like he likes visitors much,” Nick said taking heed of the signs.

 (the welcome marker)

 (On the logging road)

 (Private Property)

    We all looked at each other. He’d seemed like a nice guy on the phone, but here I was driving into the forest with two kids. I felt as though I might be embarking into some terrifying thriller. As we crept a long I tried convincing myself Jack Nicholson was not just around the bend. I swear if either boy had said, “Redrum” we would have been out of there.

    My breathing resumed when the cows came into view. I opened the window and yelled “Abe! Andy!” and they came running with that clinking, clanking sound. Smiles and excitement filled the car. Our cows loved us! Our cows missed us! Our cows were coming home!

 (Abe and Andy come a runnin')

    We hopped out of the car and introduced ourselves to the mule eyeing us. “His name is Pablo,” Dave said walking up. “He’s a troublemaker,” he added laughing.

    “What does he do?” Henry asked.

    “Well, I can’t keep him in with my cows, Peggy and Tucker because he chases them. He’ll run poor Peggy into a frenzy. He likes to stir things up.” Dave explained.

    “Will he hurt them?” Nick asked.

    “Actually, I think he just wants to play,” Dave said with a smile.

 (Pablo eyes us)

 (Pablo says hello)

 (Pablo is a water boy)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo examines a rock)

 (Pablo with Dave's house in the background)

 (my neighbor Dave)

    We all chatted a bit with rain dripping down our faces “How long have you lived here?” I asked.

    “Oh since the early seventies. I grew up in Bellingham.”

    “You don’t have internet do you?”

    “Not yet.”

    “Electricity?”

    “When I turn on the power switch.”

    “Heat?”

    “Wood. I do have a propane tank, but I try not to use it.”

    “Running water?”

    “The best water ever, from the creek.”

    “Television?” I asked doubtfully.

    “I have that! When I turn on the power and I am thinkin’ about getting the Internet. I guess you have it?”

    “I’m from Los Angeles,” was all I said and all I needed to say. I felt very techie. “And I thought my home was quiet, all you hear out here is the forest I’ll bet.”

    “And my chickens.” He pointed toward the house where they were out in the rain pecking at the grass.

    “Gnatalie sure has played a lot with Peggy’s calf, Tucker,” Dave said. “I’m sure he’s going to miss her and Peggy, she’s a natural mother. She loved having all the company. These fellas have been a real kick. That one there he moos the minute he sees me coming.” Dave said wistfully.

 (Nick petting Gnat)

 (Abe, Gnatalie and Abe)

 (Pretty Peggy)

 (baby Tucker)

 (the herd)

    “That’s Abe he’s a chatty one.”

    “I’ll say he’s chatty.” Dave grinned.

    Henry not wanting to waste any time or an opportunity, he had proceeded walking toward Mosquito Lake Road with our three cows behind him. Gnatalie was our “Norman”.

    Just as Gnatalie left the far point of the pasture fence, she realized she was being lured away from her precious surrogate mama, Peggy, and her beloved playmate, Tucker. She turned back at full tilt. She arrived back at the gate planting herself in the mud. It was apparent there was going to be no moving her today. She started mooing for Peggy who mooed back.

 (Gnatalie on the run)

    As I watched I couldn’t help but feel sad. She’d much rather be with these two than our boys. It was no surprise, but I felt badly for her. “We’ve been struggling whether or not to get Gnatalie’s grandmother and her new calf. I guess the decision’s made.” I said.

    “Well, she’s no trouble at all. Why don’t you just leave her here until you get them?” Dave suggested in a might neighborly way.

    “That’s really kind of you. It makes me sad she’d rather be here than with our two cows, but I’ve known all along they really didn’t accept her.”

    Dave put Gnatalie back in with her new family. Henry had gotten quite a ways with the boys by now so I bid Dave good-bye and hurried to catch up with him. Nick brought up the rear in the van.

 (Peggy, Gnatalie and Tucker)

 (Henry, Abe and Andy)

(Henry and the boys)

 (Andy on the way home stopping for a bit of grain- Nick driving the van)

 (Abe and the van)

    Here we were on a cattle drive with 255 horses. OK so we had the van, a girl can dream. I imagined Roy Rogers warbling a campfire tune. Henry walked on sans harmonica giving the boys little tastes of grain along the way. It was going almost too easily until we hit the pipeline trail; which was the route they took from our house to Dave’s. Abe and Andy stopped and almost pointed as if we were too stupid to know the way home. I might have gone that way, but Nick was driving the van and if we went that way he’d have to drive on Mosquito Lake Road by himself.

 (Abe and Andy - point to the pipeline trail where the silver gate is-)

     I considered that if Henry and I had any trouble Nick wouldn’t be with us and wouldn’t know what was going on. I decided everyone should stay together. The cattle complied and we all went on. I broke into a lame version of “Home on the Range”, imagining I was Mrs. Barkley. I figured Henry for Heath and Nick seemed the well, to be Nick.  We were walking and singing until we got to the road. It was then I could hear my sister’s words in the back of my head as soon as the cows spooked. “Cows don’t like a change in footing, that’s why cattle guards work.” I was still surprised because they’d been on the road plenty of times and had no problem. Of course, that was  by our house, but I guess for whatever reason in their cagey cow minds this was different. Very different.

    Suddenly it was cows gone wild. A cattle drive gone berserk. They ran up and down, racing in between trees, up the hill down the hill and then they were gone. Gone. Henry and I ran into the forest, and for a while we could hear them but we couldn’t see no longer see them. Suddenly, I realized we were in the middle of the forest without a weapon of any kind. We walked to the road and motioned for Nick to join us in the car. Only Nick didn’t see us because he was too busy listening to his ipod to notice. We trudged back and told him to drive back toward Dave’s.

    “You really think you’re going to find them?” Nick was in complete disbelief.

    “What choice do we have? I don’t want them gone for good. I’m worried. Thank goodness they have the bell.” I told him. “They’re lost in the forest. They could break a leg.”

    “At least Gnatalie’s not with them.” Nick said kindly.

    “Yeah, that would be a lot worse.”

    We drove back with our windows down listening for the bells. I got out and started looking at one of the forks. I figured I might see their tracks and determine if they’d been this way. I was scanning the mud just as a small car pulled up and rolled its window down.

    “YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN” the woman shouted unnecessarily.

    “Uh, yeah.” Nick answered quietly looking at her as if she was insane.

    “THEY”RE UP THE NEXT LOGGIN’ ROAD!” She hollered again and sped off.

    I walked back to the van and we continued looking for our little lost cows. We took the logging road and ended up in a creepy deserted place filled with strange little statues. “Redrum” kept running through my mind. “Uhh, let’s go back to Dave’s,” I told Nick.

    “Good idea.” He agreed readily. “This place is hella trippin.’”

    “What are those anyway? Goats?” Henry asked hesitantly and “Who put them there.”

 (strange statues)

    “And why?” Nick asked. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” Nick started and Henry joined in. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” They screamed at the top of their lungs over and over as if this was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, until they broke into peels of laughter successfully breaking the strange little statue tension.

    By the time we got back to Dave’s, Abe and Andy were in the pasture calmly grazing on a bale of hay. We got out of the car and were chastising them when Dave walked up.

    “They found their way back and now that they’ve eaten, I don’t think there’s much chance of them going today.” He said. 

    “No I don’t’ either they got way too freaked out. We were almost home, only a tenth of a mile to the gate when wham. It was a cattle drive circus.”

    “Well, they can all stay here until we figure out what to do next. Anyway maybe we should try again in better weather.” He said brightly.

    “I can bring you some hay over.” I offered.

    “Naaa, I’m ok. Go home, get warm.” He said. “I’ll call a friend and see if we can borrow his trailer next week.”

    I wondered if he was smirking at the city slickers. No matter, I felt more inept than Billy Crystal at the moment.

 (Abe and Andy with their hay)
 
 

 

November 4th Little Runaway

 (fall slips into winter on highway 9)

    After a summer of long languid dusty dry evenings, it’s time to pay the piper. We wake up in the dark; we drive home in the dark and the rain. Nick is no longer confused as to why vampires are said to exist peacefully in Washington. He’s taking Vitamin D now to battle his constant desire to cuddle up in his Snuggie™ and go to sleep at 7:30.

    The endless rain and the resulting mud had gotten so miserable I let the cows out of the pasture. I was worried Gnatalie wasn’t eating because her little legs were too short to walk up to the hay feeder. The weight of the bigger boys churned the earth so deeply I was afraid she might get stuck or break a leg in the mud, so I let them roam around. I figured at this point Gnatalie was sufficiently part of the herd and the boys would take care of her. 

 (Miracle and Edward take a turn at the cows round bale feeder)

 (Gnatalie hears her name and comes a runnin')

 (Gnatilie on the way)

 (Gnatalie - giving me memories of Lefty and Pancho - but she doesn't even come up to my side mirrors)

 (On the other hand -Pancho a Milking Shorthorn- back in the day- his back obscured the roof line of my van)

    They seemed to really enjoy their renewed freedom, drinking from the pond and trotting around the property. One moment they’d be by the creek eating peacefully and the next they’d be across the pasture for no apparent reason. A few nights ago the boys and I came home and had just finished putting the barn animals to away and when we noticed there in the dark not more than a few yards away were Abe, Andy and Gnatalie. They’d bed down in the Kubota barn. Three enormous mammals were all lying there and we none of us had seen them nor felt their presence.

“What if they’d been cougar? We’d be dead. Dead I tell you. Ripped to shreds! What THE…” Nick started.

 (Andy, Gnatalie and Abe)

    “Nicky is right they are ambush predators.” Henry interjected. I too was amazed we could have missed animals their size even in the darkness. It was unnerving, but their quiet gentle presence made me think of the serenity of the Nativity. Entranced I walked over and couldn’t resist joining them. Henry, Nick and I chatted with them, pet and snuggled them. It was a magical kind of moment, and then we bid them goodnight and went in the house.

 (Gnatalie gets a scratch)

 (Gnatalie and me)

 (Gnatalie, Denise and Abe)

 (Gnatalie looks at Nick while she gets a little snuggle)


    The next few days, they bed down by the house. They seemed to be enjoying the company of the other animals and our comings and goings. We looked forward to seeing them, until the night the pesky equine, Edward and Miracle happened in like the mafia. They came in noses down pushing our docile friends aside, intent on taking over the territory. Gentle souls, Abe, Andy and Gnatalie gave up their beds and moved back down to the pasture bells clanging as they went.

     Tonight, when we got home, Henry hopped out of the car to open the gate and found a note thumbtacked to the latch.

    Scrawled in blue cursive was “I think I have your cattle at my house. I am just on the other side of the pipeline rd. from you. Call me – Dave”.

    “Someone has our cows?” I blurted to the boys.

    “What? They’re gone?” Nick said shocked.

    “Well, I don’t know, I mean I saw them the other day, but we leave in the dark and then we get home in the dark, I guess they could be.” I reasoned.

    “The bells, listen for the bells,” Henry said sensibly. We rolled down the windows, but all we heard was the wind blowing the leaves off the trees in the forest.

    “Have you ever noticed the wind in the trees sounds like a rushing river?” Henry asked.

    “I have noticed that and at times. A few times I’ve really thought it was the sound of a river. It’s kind of amazing. I don’t hear any bells. Do you? I think they really might be gone.”

    “What the hell. The cows ran away from home? Gnatalie! Where’s little Gnatalie?” Nick worried.

    “She’s probably with them they’re a herd now,” Henry assured him.

    My stomach churned as I dialed my neighbor Dave’s number. “Hello? My name’s Denise and I understand you might have my cows?”

    “Yeah that’s right. I think they’re yours. Two big guys and a little one?”

    “That’s them!”

    “I used to drive past your place everyday on my way to town before the bridge closed so I was pretty sure they were yours. One of them, the one with the bell.”

    “That’s Andy.”

    “Well, Andy broke into my pasture last night. I heard the bell. It’s a good thing you have the bell because I heard it and wondered what the heck it was. I went outside with my flashlight and saw him. He’d broken the fence to get in my pasture to be with my cow and her calf. The other two were just sitting on my lawn. I’ve never seen such friendly cows in my life. They just like to be pet and that little one. I just want to put her in my pocket.” He said with a laugh.

    “That’s them alright. I’m so sorry about your fence.” I said feeling terrible and wondering how I was going to pay for Andy’s escapades.

    “Oh that’s ok I fixed it. Now how you’re going to get them back I don’t know.”

    “Well, my biggest problem is when. I think I can get them home, but I just can’t go over and do it in the dark and I have to work.”

    “That’s ok I can keep them here and we can work it out this weekend.”

    “Really? That’s so nice of you. I can bring some hay by.”

    “Nahh, that’s ok I’ve got plenty of hay and I like having them around. The little one is playing with the calf, Tucker.”

    Well, thank you. I’ll give you a call and come by on Saturday morning then. I don’t know exactly where you are. I’ve never seen your house.”

    “That’s because I’m a mile back in the forest. It’s not hard to find, but I’ll better direct you Saturday. Otherwise you’ll end up at my brother-in-law’s place.”  As we hung-up I couldn’t help but chuckle.

    The phone rang, “What’s going on?” Tom asked expecting what I don’t know, but I assure you he did not expect.

    “Gnatalie and the boys ran away from home and are having a sleepover.” 

October 21st Back To The Future

(My mother, after being 89lbs and in a wheelchair - fought her way back to go on a three-week safari)

Dear Mom,

    I’ve been feeling lost and alone lately and my friend, Sherry, from work suggested I write you a letter because I miss you so much. I wasn’t going to do it until this morning when I was in the laundry room and I could hear Irish climbing up on the kitchen counter to try and eat my English muffin. He didn’t see me so he thought I wasn’t anywhere around. Was he shocked. 

 (no dog should be this big)

 Anyway, it made me think of Corinthians  

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part,

But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

I believe you’re around even though I don’t see you – like Peek-a-Boo

(my mom and me - playing peek-a-boo)

    I don’t know why people say time makes it easier, because it doesn’t. It’s just longer since I’ve heard your laugh or felt your arms. Well, here’s the long and the short of it Mama. I’m tired. I’m not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep will cure, but the kind of depleted exhaustion that makes things feel hopeless. I question my choices. I wonder what you would tell me if you could. I listen for your voice.

    Where should I put my energy? What should I leave behind? My day begins at 5:00 AM. I get up and make lunches and spend a little time having a quiet cup of coffee. I need the time just to be alone. Then I wake up the boys and harangue them into getting ready. We feed the dogs, the cats and open up the barn to let the goats, sheep, geese, ducks and turkeys out. Except on the days we’re running late or it’s too dark like today.

    On the way to school, I sit in the passenger seat on these dark fall mornings and grip my coffee while Nick drives us to school. You don’t know Nick, but you knew his Mom, Lisa Gomez. Nick’s a funny thing. He makes Henry and me laugh. He adds a bit of work because he’s not sure he should have to study, I know what you’re thinking, no, he’s nothing like his mom – Miss 4.0 G.P.A. Anyway he’s silly, lighthearted and likes to push my buttons, just like Henry – always telling me I’m “trippin’.”

 (Silly Nicholas Lyle)

 (Henry and Nick laugh)

    He’s quickly turning into a farmer. He did a photo assignment for class and was outraged because the students thought Lloyd was a duck. “You kiddin’ me with that neck!”

    He’s done a “hella good job driving” if you ask him. He’s gone on the freeway, driven in the rain and is slowly mastering the left-hand turn. Naturally, he’s nervous when trucks are barreling toward him on the highway. I remember when you first let me drive on Pear Blossom Highway after we went skiing one day. I didn’t think that fear of facing a truck would ever subside, but it did just like you said.

 (Nick taking the wheel)

 (Lloyd - Franklin, Richard, Silence and Rachel)

    What would you say now? You see, when I went to have my taxes done the other day. Yes, I know I, I know most people have done there’s but I got them done and mailed on October 15^th. That is the deadline, I made it by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin. My accountant, Kelly, said that I am not a bad person although I am paying her. She also told me that the Conservation site where a lot of Bellingham schools go to for their outdoor education is closed this year, and as a result there are a group of parents who heard about Fort Flashback and would like to see if they could have one of the Bellingham Schools come up here for a Colonial or Pioneer experience in the late Spring. Kelly says this is Fort Flashback’s big chance. Which of course is what we’ve been waiting for and I’m pursuing, making appointments with parents designing curriculum and trying to attend the school board meeting.

    But after I drop off the boys I have to race back home and let the animals out now that the mornings are so dark and then run to work. I work at the Everybody Store in Van Zandt for minimum wage. The people are friendly and the job is quirky. In the summer I weeded the strawberry garden and now I’m picking apples in the orchard.  We’re going to debut Henry’s Miracle Honey™ and Stingers™ there in a few days.

    It’s the company Henry thought up. He’s a lot like you with a bunch of get rich quick schemes and a hard worker. He wants to be the Paul Newman of honey. There’s a spicy garlic/pepper you’d love and of course regular plain old honey. It’s one thing to think it up though and another thing to bring it t market. There are a myriad of things to think of. Researching label printing versus buying a printer, then which printer and how much ink, which labels go with which bottle size and shape. Creating recipes, trademarks versus registered marks,getting upc codes, noting proper warnings, verifying nutrition facts, testing recipes, deciding on safety seals, buying a heat gun, creating a limited liability partnership, running focus group testing, applying for food processing permits, getting hair nets, choosing & buying urls, checking into shipping, obtaining hive permits, finding kitchen rentals, creating brand identity, applying for business licenses, getting professional memberships, deciding on donations, making wholesale pricing, deciding whether to try retail, calling the rabbi about the kosher symbol and point of sale promotions. It takes hours of planning, calling, filling out of forms, comparing prices and then of course the price per unit because Tom and I would actually like to make a profit and live together before Henry goes to college.

 (in Seattle getting the jars at the Specialty Bottle Company)

 (loading up - a tight fit with Nick, Quinn, Henry - Tom and me)

 (Mike and Henry with the heated scraper- uncapping the honey- for extraction)

 (extractor)

 (Henry, Nick, Mike and Tom put the frames in the honey extractor)

 (Donna with the official honey drill-mixer - we're getting our license)

 (Donna stirring a Stingers™ bucket for Celia - of the Department of Agriculture)

 (Stingers™ - 16 ounces)

 (The oval hexagon honey jars)

 (Henry's Crest for social studies - a project gone wild - Henry prefers my jigsaw over Tom's - easier to hold for little hands)

 (Henry selects symbols that represent him)

 (Henry is on fire - loving 7th grade)

 (Lord Henry? We hope - the teacher will determine his status)

    After I finish at the Everybody Store I race back to town with a snack and pick-up the boys. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday we go to Burlington for gymnastics. To save time, and fit in Henry’s cornet, he does his practice in the car on the way. Nick makes him put a sock in the horn to muffle the sound. It works pretty well. At 4:00 we stop at the Common Ground, a little coffee shop, where the owner never remembers us. Henry and Nick do their homework for an hour. I have a cup of Earl Grey with a splash of milk and help interpret U.S. History and Algebra. If Nick needs help in Visual Communications we call Tom.

    When I drop off Henry, Nick finishes his homework or chauffeurs me around Burlington running errands to Home Depot™ or the bank or the market. That’s the time I go to Weight Watchers™. I've lost six whole pounds so far and I'm going to keep going. We get home around 9:00PM. I couldn’t manage at all if Lisa Gomez hadn’t gotten me my new Crock-Pot ™ and instituted a few new laundry rules. I’m not allowed to leave laundry in the dryer or fold it and put it in a basket. “Laundry belongs in the laundry room” according to Lisa. I am to take it out of the dryer and put it flat on top. – no more than two loads. Then I must put it away before I am allowed to wash another load. - I’m still a laundry mess but this seems to be a system I can manage – I must say in this area you failed as a mother. What were you teaching me instead of laundry? Oh right, how to have fun and be happy. Well, I mastered that for the most part although I slip occasionally.

    The farm takes up a lot of my time, but I love feeding the cows, tending to the turkeys and the chickens, cleaning stalls, this is what makes me happy.  It’s just trying to pay the bills and find a way to get ahead while doing this and vacuuming up dog hair and testing the generator, insulating the well and chopping wood. My biggest challenge at home is Deli, dad’s dog. She was living with my kooky tenant, Amy, until she killed Amy’s treasured bunny, Rizzo, and is more than likely responsible for the disappearance of Charlotte, the cranky sugar glider. Consequently, Deli’s back with me. She can open every door except the one to my bedroom and so there she stays most of the time imprisoned. She’s sweet and great with the cats, but I can’t take her getting out with the barnyard animals anymore. Strangely, Amy still loves her, but can’t risk Frenchie her other bunny and I can’t blame her. Really what she needs is a small inescapable yard and someone who’d take her on a walk. She’s really a couch potato and a love bug at heart. I don’t know what to do. I can just hear you “Are you kidding me? Your father’s dog? You’re letting your father’s dog ruin your household? – and then “but she’s so cuddly and soft and sweet and gentle…” Where you’d end up on this one remains a mystery.

 (Miracle and Edward horse around)

 (Nick took this picture of Ed peeking in to say hello)

 (Angus resting by a tree)

 (ducks to the left - goats center, turkeys in the foreground and geese in back)

    On a positive note, the pond is so full now it’s overflowing. My tears of anguish were for not. A lot of good came out of the pond drying up. If it hadn’t been for the dry ground I couldn’t have had these nice guys come out and get the gravel out for me in exchange for some firewood. They created a road with the gravel they got out which goes all the way from my driveway to the pond. The pond is almost its normal size again. Almost, because it’ll never be as deep due to the silt and I couldn’t ask them to work any harder than they did, but the island is an island again and Wally’s former residence is suitable for beaver habitation. I can hear you saying “See, you never know what good thing is going to come out of something bad.”

 (reflecting)

 (a real pond again)

 (Luther dressed for fall - crossing the creek)

 (an island again!)

 (water flowing)

 (Beaver ready)

    Gone are the long summer days. Instead, the cool crisp fall brings buttery browns and buttery golds. The rains have come with a vengeance making up for the dry summer. The mud got so deep one day in the pasture I had to let the cows out into the field. I was afraid Gnatalie would get stuck trying to go to the feeder and break a leg.

(autumn is here)

    We want to get her grandmother, Petite and her uncle, but Deli broke the fence going down to the pasture and I just don’t have the money to fix it right now. Ahh such is life on the farm. Speaking of which, there is some interest believe it or not to make our lives a reality show a cross between Walton’s and Green Acres I’m told. I kid you not. We took some footage, but now I can’t seem to get it edited and that’s a whole other job in itself.

    Some of my friends have asked me if I would really do it and truly the answer is yes. It beats the idea of food stamps. I’m not proud any longer I’m just trying to survive. Perhaps, I dream too big.  But the truth is you taught me to be happy with simple things. I can remember you so sick with cancer sitting in your wheel chair outside on your deck. Suddenly you’d smile at the sight of a Stellar Jay or an unexpected egret or those Japanese fishing birds that moved in to the lake. You told me “happiness is not a destination, it’s a decision. If you wait until something, to be happy, you’ll be happy very little. It’s better to be happy at the sight of a flower or a bird or new shoes. Happiness isn’t about all these big things people have such expectations about like Christmas Day. When you want so much from one day you’re bound to be disappointed. It’s better to make everyday special.” This is why I don’t get the laundry done.

    I listened, and I still sing Henry the new shoe song and he sings it to me. I don’t want to be rich Mama; the rich have their own problems. I just want to live life on my farm, laugh with my family and have enough money to take Henry to the E.R. every time he needs it. Oh and did I mention I’d like a pedicure every once in-a-while.

    I do take some time for myself. I write and I have a treadmill. I watch All My Children with the boys while I walk. It’s funny how comforting it is to see the same actors on the show that were on when I watched it with you and Grandma Irene. Tad was in middle school then and now he’s a grandfather. It’s predictable, and silly I suppose and I can go a couple of years without seeing it and pick it up in a week but like it just the way I like getting bubble gum balls out of vending machines. And it’s funny, when Henry says something about one of the characters that you liked or didn’t like, I feel as though I’m a time traveler.

 (Christina and  Irene - her beloved mother-in-law who was more like a mother than anyone she'd ever known )

    Well, as I look outside at the sun peeking through the clouds and the vibrant blue sky against the scarlet trees I realize Mom my time is up. Jeff called and cancelled me for today at the store so I didn’t have to work which meant I had a little snippet to myself, but school’s almost out and I have to check on the progress of the honey sticks we want to give out on Halloween, exchange the winter coat I bought Bruno, pay the garbage bill, see about a couple of electric blankets for the boys, go to the bank and then off to gymnastics.

    I’ll have to tell Sherry her idea worked. I do feel as though we’ve had a little cup of coffee together and I feel a lot better.

(Me - in my sigma chi shirt - and my Mom staying up all night in a German train station - having espresso and chatting with other travelers)

All my love – always

 

Denisie

October 4th Heads Or Tails?

 (Gnatalie, with Abe and Andy together for a rare moment)

            Everyday when I look out on my pasture I see two beautiful deep red steer, Abe and Andy and then I scan the field for Gnatalie who is inevitably all alone half a field away. I feel like I’ve ruined her life. The boys tolerate her, but I’ve accepted that’s about as much as they’re going to do. I’m surprised, because I thought a female was a female was a female and with Anna gone they would latch onto Gnat, but they haven’t. Since when were males picky?

    Tom, Nick, Henry and I couldn’t take it any longer so this morning I called Susie at Pixie Forest Farm to see if there was any way we could swing a payment plan to add Veronica or Marie.

    Coincidently, Quinn had a soccer game near Seattle, so on our way to Lake Stevens, we met up with team Donaldson and took Phoebe with us to see baby cows.

    When we arrived Susie suggested we take a look at a little bull who was still intact and not yet weaned. “Heck if you just need a companion for Gnatalie then it really doesn’t matter if it’s a female. Steers are a lot cheaper.”

    “Cheaper is good.” I said open-minded as we walked over to the small herd.

 (Mama and new baby)

    “Oh my gosh they’re sooo itty-bitty,” Phoebe purred as she looked at some calves that were only a few days old. “I want to touch one.” She said as she tried to near each of the new babies, but they managed to stay just out of reach.

    “I don’t know, he looks a little like a pig,” Tom whispered. “Don’t you think? I still like Veronica better.”

    “And I like Marie,” Henry added. So after looking at the herd and getting introduced to Montana, one of Susie’s bulls, we headed over to Susie’s other field where Veronica, Marie were living.

 (Petite and her baby boy)

 (baby bull)

 (Montana with his curly hairdo)

 (Olive an unusually colored Dexter- she actually is olive)

 (Henry with Tom)

 (sniffing Henry)

 (Phoebe twirls around at Nick)

 (babies)

 (Phoebe- is 9?)

 Here piggy,piggy?)

    Veronica and Marie were as adorable as ever, but not nearly as tame as they had been on our last visit. Susie assured us she would be working with them again so they would be more people friendly when they’re ready to leave her.

    “The thing is, one of the reasons I don’t like Gnatalie down in the pasture with the boys is proximity. We just don’t spend the time with her we would if she was up in the yard.” I said.

    “It’s true, we just don’t walk down to the pasture and hang out.  And we don’t want her to lose her snuggliness. Henry piped up.

    Who’s that?”  Tom asked pointing to the black cow Henry was hugging. “I like her.”

 (Nick feeds the cows for Susie)

 (Marie chomping on dinner)

 (Tom is smitten with Veronica)

 (Henry and Maureen next to Ladybug - Gnatalie's mother)

 (Nick,Henry, and Maureen)

 (Nick, Henry & Phoebe with Marie)

    “That’s Maureen, I’d have a hard time selling her, she's wonderful but I have a completely different suggestion. Do you remember Petite? She was the mother of the little bull I was showing you. She has a problem with her udder during pregnancy it almost hangs on the ground and I don’t think I can breed her anymore so it’s either find her a home where she’s a pet or butcher her. And to tell you the truth I lover her so muchI don’t want to butcher her.”

    “Uh oh, Andy.” Tom interjected. Susie looked at me blankly.

    “That’s how we got Andy, he wasn’t originally part of the package, but they were calling him Hamburger and so she took him too.” Tom explained.

    “And Alexander,” Henry reminded us.

    "And Alexander.” Tom agreed

    “And Apache,” Henry interjected.

    “And Apache.” I agreed. Lord I was a soft touch. I could already feel myself leaning toward Petite. “Well, the thing I like is that she’s already used to people. I think it’s difficult to spend the time with each of them and I like the idea Gnatalie would have a companion she could look up to.” I rationalized.

    “But we really wanted a baby.” Nick said.

    “Well,” Susie started, “First off, I should also tell you Petite is Gnatalie's grandma and her baby is Gnatalie's uncle. I was thinking about you wanting a baby and thought maybe I could make it a package deal and send Petite with her little boy.”

    “Two? You’re going to get two?” Phoebe said wide-eyed and incredulous

    “I didn’t say that! And don’t you dare tell your mother that. She’ll lose it.”

    “Tell me." She said dryly. "You’re not at my house after she hangs up with you.” Phoebe said wisely.

    We all tumbled back into the van and headed back to Susie’s to see what we thought of Petite.  “Look I don’t think I want three Dexters. And frankly, I don’t know how much two would cost. I’m not sure I’d want them if she threew the baby in for free.”

    “Well, you’re the one who’d be doing most of the work.” Tom said rationally.

    “Do you still want Veronica?” I asked.

    “No. I really like her, but she’s got to be a lot more than Petite or maybe we should just take the little boy.”

    “What about Maureen? I like her,” Henry suggested.

    “Susie doesn’t want to sell her so she’s going to be a lot more money.” Tom explained.

    The phone rang. I knew it would be Lisa and Chris wondering where we were because Quinn’s soccer game was just about over. “So do you have a cow strapped to your luggage rack?” She said cracking herself up.

    “Uh, no. We’re not leaving here with a cow today.” I said confidently and firmly, knowing none of them were weaned and we couldn’t fit Petite in the back of the van.

    “How much longer?

    “We’re just going back to Susie’s other field to take one more look and then we’re on our way.” I assured her.

    “Okayyyy. See you soon.” She said with the distinct sound of doubt in her voice as though she really expected me to show up at Starbucks with a cow on the roof of my van. Perhaps not completely out of the question if I'm honest with myself.

    When we arrived at Susie’s I asked straight out, “What are the different prices of all these different options. You see, we have Gnatalie to think of, but we’re limited financially. I know Veronica and Marie are more expensive. Maureen, you don’t want to sell, so she’s got to be the most, but how much is Petite?”

    “Well, I want to make this worthwhile for you, so I was thinking of making Petite less than half of what it would cost to get Veronica or Marie and throwing her son in for free.”

    “A two-fer?” Tom snickered looking at me as though all choice had disappeared. He’s the one who made me get two kittens in exchange for getting rid of Leo the turtle. Now I did have a dilemma. But I know in the end, the purchase price of an animal is not how you can judge it’s real cost. We walked over and looked at Petite.  She certainly had a sweet face. The kids fed her and watched her baby nurse.

 (Susie and Petite)

 (Petite, Henry & Phoebe)

 (Phoebe and Petite)

    After awhile we got in the car and started north. “So what are some Irish boy names?” Tom asked. This was the kiss of death. I didn’t think there was any turning back once Tom started naming the little guy.

    “How about Max because his mom is Petite?” Henry suggested.

    The boys and Phoebe started brainstorming. “What about Shamus?” Nick suggested.

    “I like Shamus.” Tom agreed.

    “Phinneas?”

    “Finnegan? Killian? I actually know a tough, cuddly Killian." I joined in remembering my little student Sadie Buchenau's adorable brother.

    “I know, Aiden,” Henry called out.

    “Aiden? That’s a little All My Children.” I noted.

    “So were Stuart, Jasper and Phoebe Wallingford.” Henry said and Phoebe laughed batting her eyelashes.

    “What do you think of Clancy?” I said thinking of Clancy the clown in the Deck of Old Maid Cards. I have about six of them since my sister used to put them in my Christmas stocking year after year.

    “I like Clancy,” Tom said “it sounds friendly and it’s Irish.”

    “Are we doing the right thing” I wondered aloud?

    “Gnatalie needs company that’s for sure. It’s just which one.” Nick said firmly.

    “Nick’s right Gnatalie’s sad.” Phoebe pleaded.

    “She is Mom and you know it.”

    “And remember Petite is going to be butchered if we don’t take her. Do you really want to separate her from her baby? What kind of monster would that make you?” Tom asked. “You’d ruin her life too.”

 (heads and tails? Petite and nameless irish boy)

September 27th Waste Not Want Not

 (Christina and Riley saunter past Franklin and Richard)

**WARNING - this post contains some graphic pictures)

It was another predictable Sunday of laundry, housework and barn cleaning. With the added hope, I’d have time to hop on the treadmill and try like crazy to catch up to Awesomez who has now lost fifteen flipping pounds. Of course, I’m proud of her and thrilled for her, but I can’t help feeling inept.

After my morning pot of coffee, chats with Pea, and my sister, I got sucked into the tale end of National Treasure Book of Secrets. How could I resist Nick’s sudden interest in Mount Vernon, Lincoln’s assassination or his questions about South Dakota? Obviously, I couldn’t, so I settled in with another cup of coffee and took advantage of an incidental learning situation. I’m an opportunist.

Finally, about 2:00PM we set out to the barn. Truth be known there wasn’t that much we had to do. Certainly we’d need to tend to the geese who “don’t go number one or number two, but a weird form of number three” according to Henry. But whatever you call it, goose poop is wet, messy and has to be dealt with on a regular basis.

We set to work. Once we’d cleaned everything out and Nick had brought a tractor load of shavings for Henry and me to shovel into place, we started talking about the chickens. As a group we decided this would be an ideal time to take the roosters we knew we were definitely going to get rid of and let them roam the barnyard. We didn’t want another overcrowding attack.

“But what about the turkeys? What if they attack?” Henry asked cautiously.

“Well, we’re here and we can deal with it, but frankly they are going to die. Someone is going to eat them. There isn’t much else to be done with a rooster. We have to accept that.” I explained.

 “Sucks to be a rooster,” Nick interjected.

“Seriously,” Henry agreed.

“I’ll never buy a straight run of chickens again. Mike and Donna just got chickens and they only have three roosters. Come on help me get Cluck-Cluck,” I asked setting down my pitchfork.

We went to the chicken run and tried to wrangle Cluck-Cluck who ran for his life. He seemed to instinctively know we had a different purpose than the normal cuddling. Perhaps it’s just that he’s getting older and his roosterness is kicking in. He’s usually docile with people despite being the most aggressive rooster we have. He and Boris bump chests and carry on flying at each other.

Cluck-Cluck went through the guillotine door to escape my grasp. Which meant I had to go around and inside. I figured I could close the guillotine door and trap he and Boris and a few others inside for easier capture.

I walked in the coop and screamed, “Oh MY GOD!”

“What? What is it?” Henry asked frantically as he came running in the door with Nick close behind him.

“It’s Boris look at him.”

“Oh, no, do you think it was Cluck-Cluck?” Henry asked.

“Yes, I think it was Cluck-Cluck.” I confirmed as I grabbed the villain and threw him out the door.

Boris’ left hind end was covered in blood. Fresh blood was dripping from his body. I thought of Toby’s words of caution. ‘The moment you see a drop of blood on a chicken you must remove them or the others will kill it.’

“We have to take him out of here. Henry pick-up Boris.”

“Where do I put him?”

“You can put him in the turkey pen for now.” I said distractedly. My mind was racing trying to figure out my next move. I could see the bird was in tremendous pain because he was barely moving. I knew he was bleeding and I had no way of stopping it. I knew too that I didn’t want to pay for a vet call on a Sunday with my limited funds.

(Boris injured in the turkey pen)

“What are we going to do?” Henry said sadly.

“Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think it makes any sense to take him to the vet and have them patch him up only to give him away for someone to eat him. Do you? I mean why should he have to endure all that? And it costs money.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, that seems stupid.” Nick agreed.

“And cruel really, but what are we going to do? Kill him? Mama!”

“Honey, I don’t know what else to do? It’s not right to let him suffer. We have no way of fixing him. We knew we weren’t keeping him.”

“How?” Henry asked again cringing.

“I guess with the hatchet. Nick can you go get Amy? Just tell her I need her to come up here.” I figured I’d need someone to hold the bird while I did the deed. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

Amy arrived. I showed her the bird and we discussed our options as we walked to the shop to look for the hatchet.

 I just spoke to Anna, the lady I told you about who raises heritage turkeys the other day.”

“Uh huh.” Amy acknowledged.

“and she said she hangs them upside down slits their jugular and let’s them drain out. I’m not up for that.”

“Uh no. I can do it. I can kill the bird if you can’t.”

“Really? I think I can too after all it’s the only humane thing to do.”

We couldn’t find the hatchet and wandered back to the woodpile.  Nick found it and handed it to me.

“I can do it.” He said seriously. “Really. You and Henry are too attached to it and I know its hurt. I can do it.” Nick said firmly.

“Amy and I are going to do it. I don’t think this is a job for you. I can do this.” I assured him. “I need to call Tom. He’s done this before and I haven’t. Maybe we can wikihow to butcher a chicken or there’s probably a youtube video.”

 

            I dialed Pea and brought him up to speed. “Wow, you know I used to do this with my dad when I was younger than Henry. Strange, it’s his birthday to day.”

“A strange tribute.”

“Yeah, OK get a chopping block like the one in the coop. And well, one of you has to hold the bird and the other one chops it. You have to bring the axe down as though you’re trying to split the block in half. Don’t aim just for the chicken. If you don’t do it in one cut…”

“Yeah, I know.”

            “You guys should get some branches and practice aiming and coming down. I’d do it if I were there. You can do it. I mean we got the chickens knowing we might eat them.” He suggested.

            “Yeah, I know,”

“What are you going to do with it? After.”

“Well, we think we should eat it. I mean it seems the only way to honor the bird. He was supposed to be someone’s dinner and I can’t imagine just throwing him in the trash.”

“I think that’s right, if you can do it.”

“Well, I didn’t think I could give my mother a shot when she was in chemo, but I did it. OK we’re going to practice,” I said and hung-up. I quickly relayed the information to Amy and then we went outside to find a chopping block. The boys knew where some good pieces of wood were near the compost pile. So we examined six or seven before selecting one.

            “Tom said to practice so we’re going to get a few branches and I’m going to see how I do.” A branch was brought over and WHAM! I severed it without trouble. I hoped I could do it, as easily when it came time, at least I knew I was capable.

(Wood went flying  when I took my first turn)

            “Can I try?” Henry asked. “I think I could do it.”

            “Sure you can practice, but Honey even if you CAN do it I don’t think you should. I’ll do it. I’m the mother.” I said.

(Henry practices)

            Nick went after Henry and split his branch easily. Then it was Amy’s turn. She missed the wood the first time and the second time the hatchet got stuck.

“You’re holding. I don’t have health insurance.(Amy tries to chop)

To be fair, her branch was much larger, so we all tried again while we talked about why we needed to do this.

“You know I can’t believe I’m ok with this, but I am strangely ok,” Henry declared. “I really think I could do it.”

“Well, you’re not going to do it.” Nick said protectively. “You can’t kill anything, and I don’t think you should either Denise. I’m almost sixteen. I can do this. Really. I want to do this.”

“Yeah, but Nick it isn’t just that, I don’t know if you really want to kill something.”

“It’s not for fun, it’s the only humane thing to do, Boris is suffering,” Nick said emphatically. “I’m the obvious choice.”

On the second round, I couldn’t make the cut, nor could Henry. Nick stepped up and slammed the hatchet through the wood with ease. “I should be the one,” he said looking at me.

“I’ll think about it.” I said realizing I just didn’t have the same upper body strength. I’m going to call Tom about what we do next. I just can’t get a good picture in my head about how this is going to go.”

“Yeah, what about that story where the chicken lived about fourteen months without a head.” Henry reminded us.

“That can’t happen on accident. Someone had to give it water and you know I just don’t want to think about that right now.” I replied walking toward the house with Amy.

“Pea? We practiced, but we have a few questions.”

“Who ever hold’s the legs has to have a good grip,” he instructed.

“Well, we thought we’d use a zip-tie, but how do you hold the head and not get your fingers chopped off?” I asked worrying about ending Amy’s paramedic career.

“No, no, no. You don’t hold the head. You hold the legs and take the chicken to one end of the block then you slowly pull it toward you stretching out the neck. The chicken will just stay there.”

“Really? Good thing we called for clarification. We’re nubies to this. Huh, um what about this chicken with its head cut off thing? Do they flop around like they say or is that just an old wives tale or just some of them?” I asked.

“No, it’s absolutely all of them. You need to get a 2’ x 3’ box with a lid and put the bird in there once it’s done.”

“OK. It needs a lid?”

“So it doesn’t fly out.”

“Fly out! Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

Right, we’ll look for a box.” And off Amy and I went in search of the death box.

“Seriously, I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Amy said.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do? Heck a week ago, if you’d asked me if I would have done this I’d have told you absolutely not, but here we are and we don’t have a choice. I guess this is real farm life.” We located an adequate box and went back to the chopping block.  “OK, now is everyone on the same page, we’re going to do this because it has to be done. Henry if you want to not be here, that’s fine, there’s no shame in that. Nick, I just don’t know what to say to you. Do you really want to do this to protect us, because I will do this, but I don’t want you to feel as though I don’t see you a man. I respect your reasons. I think it’s amazing that you’re trying to take care of us.”

“I really want to do this and I know I can. It’s important and it has to be done now.”

“Well, OK. In every religion you’re old enough to be a man and I know boys younger than Henry have been doing this forever. After all, this is where food comes from. Only in the last hundred years have we even had markets and even then they would have thought you were crazy to come in for a chicken. They didn’t have refrigeration. OK, Amy you’re holding? Let’s get him.”

We walked over and got Boris, who we were now referring to as The Chicken. Confirmed once again that he needed to go. He pecked Amy and drew blood. “He’s in a lot of pain to do that.” Amy reassured everyone.

 (continuously dripping blood)

 (Nick gets ready)

As Nick stood by the chicken the axe up in the air I called, “Nick you ok? You don’t have to do this? You can change your mind even at the last second, but if you do it. You have to do it. It would be cruel to do it part way.”

“I know. I’m good.”

“Through the wood, think of hitting through the wood, through the wood.” I repeated Tom’s words. And with that, he did it. Amy instantly put the bird in the box per Tom’s instructions, and closed the lid. We stood there as we heard the flopping of the body.

“Did the head come off?” I asked wanting t make sure it wasn’t a maimed bird inside.

“How would I know?” Nick asked. “My eyes were shut.”

“Well, look on the ground.” I instructed as Amy opened up the box.

“Is it dead?” I asked.

“Yeah, the head is attached, but just barely.” Amy reached for a stick and severed it.

 (Franklin, silence and Richard worrying about the upcoming holidays?)

The rest was surprisingly easy. We boiled water and did as Tom told us. “You want to dunk it in the boiling water for just a few seconds, then again. You don’t want to cook it.”

“Then you have to feather it, and clean everything out in the chest cavity.” I followed instructions. The boys played with the feet like puppets after I chopped them off. They were laughing and carrying on and I thought of The Lord of The Flies and Michael and Richard. Three different birds and three very different endings, I guess you never know where the road is going to lead. Ripping the meat off the bone, chopping off the legs, I thought I could have made it on Survivor. And once again I didn't get my time on treadmill

 (A chicken in every pot?)

 (Concentrating on getting dinner on the table)

The dinner wasn’t very good really; I mean it was just ok, a little chewy. I hadn’t really prepared for this and I probably overcooked it worrying I’d under cook it. We served Boris up with harvest grains and pineapple. There weren’t any tears or upsetness at the dinner table.

(Chicken and Harvest Grains-from Trader Joes™

“I said I could do it, but I secretly didn’t want you to pick me.” Henry admitted. “But I’m not upset at all to eat this. I thought I would be, but I think it would have been terrible to throw him away.”

“Dude! I knew you couldn't do it.” Nick said shoveling in a big bite.

"I could do it now, it all seems really different now, not how I expected. I thought it would be hard to eat him, but I'm really fine with it."

“You know, I wouldn’t eat a pet, but if one of the cows broke their leg, I would butcher that meat. I mean I’d have it done. I couldn’t waste 700 pound of meat. I can’t believe how I’ve changed. I was horrified Maryruth could eat her cattle and here I am. Never say never.”

“We’re not going to eat Socrates!”

“No of course not, and I’m sorry this isn’t the greatest I just was worried about getting everything done, I didn’t concentrate on making everything tasty.”

“Heck, we can do another one and Tom can barbecue it.” Nick said. “I’ve got experience, we don’t need to give all that food away.”

“Really? You’re that OK with it? You’d do it again?” I marveled.

“Yeah, and it really didn’t take as much strength as I thought. I just thought about what you said Tom said ‘through the wood’ and I did it.”

“Cluck-Cluck’s next” Amy said.

“Amy! Cluck-Cluck? I know if I were a chicken I’d think he was hot!” I love Amy. “But he’s a jerk and has to go.”

After dinner while I was deciding if the hatchet was a top shelf dishwasher item like a knife, Nick sat at the counter doing his English homework.

 

“I have to do a proverb I can relate to,” he explained.

“OK, read them.”  He read about five and then stopped.

“Here’s one. I can write about today.”

“What is it?”

“Waste not want not.”  Ahh connections to literature.

(I decided it was a top shelf item)

 

September 16 The Sweet Life

 (A big yawn -Miracle and Sir Edward refuse to sleep in the barn, they're out all night on alert-and apparently not sleeping well) 

Mike and Donna made their way up to our place with a new bee suit in hand for our newest beekeeper, Nick. “We aren’t going to be out done by June!” Donna smirked.

“What?” I was confused.

“Oh don’t you know? June offered Nick a hundred dollars if he gets good grades this semester. We thought we’d jump on “Get Nick Motivated Bandwagon.”

             Nick thanked Mike and Donna and eagerly tried on his suit. It was a dry sunny afternoon but not too hot for bee suits. A good time to tend bees, they’re in a good mood on warm days and awfully grumpy in the rain and clouds.

            In the state of Washington a high school student must complete a community-based, “Culminating Project” in order to graduate. They are required have a community adviser and do about thirty hours of service and learning within their chosen topic. In their junior year students write a research paper during English classes and by their senior year they are supposed to be prepared to give a twenty-minute presentation. Surprise, surprise, Nick has decided to do bees and Mike will be acting his adviser.

            Mike, Henry and Nick charged up the hill. Well Nick and Henry charged, Mike fresh from his last chemo treatment moseyed up the hill. Their mission was to collect honey and start the preparation for winter. Our honey is not the bee’s honey. The bees keep all the honey in the lower hive boxes.

(Nick examining a hive frame- one hive must have killed the queen - the one we replaced a couple of months ago -(not Henry's) was completely gone - sort of like the lost colony of Roanoke - only there wasn't a note - exactly- We think they went native and have joined other hives because there was no dead larvae)

    A bee is so multi-purpose it’s not surprising they're women. In they're own way, they bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. They can flap their wings to keep cool in the summer and then they flap again to keep warm in the winter. They do not hibernate; rather they live in their dark humming world off their stores. And by some miracle they can live twice as long as your average bee.

After taking our small share, we put sugar-water out for them once again so they can easily continue their work despite the decline in foliage.

            The next order of business is to treat the bees for mites. This can be done a couple of ways. One is to sprinkle the bees with powdered sugar. The mites can’t stick to it and they fall off. Another is the treatment Mike’s chose. It’s put on the top of the hive like a pollen patty. In a few weeks we will insulate the hives to help the bees survive the cold.

 (Mite treatment)

(Mike and Henry treat a hive)

 (Nick uses a hive tool)

(Mike - Community Advisor- advising)

(Mike displaying a honey filled frame)

 (Honey is the white covered section- it is capped off with wax)

            “You know,” Mike, said to Henry as he was helping him take off his premier super of honey, “Look, your honey is blackberry honey.”

            “How do you know?” I inquired from the bee whisperer.

            “Ohmygoshthatisssooogooood!!” Henry said dragging his finger through the honeycomb. “Dude you’ve got to try this!!”

            “Look at it, it’s clear like water. It’s beautiful and will taste better than fireweed honey.”

            “Nick drinks tea just so he can put honey in it” I informed Donna as Nick who looked a little like Winnie the Pooh, started licking his honey covered fingers.

            “It is lovely honey Henry,” Donna agreed. “Your first batch. We should keep this special.”

            After all the work was done, the tangled bees were removed from my hair, the bee stings were tended to we adjourned to the kitchen. Nick and Henry had both logged about three hours in the field. Henry as it happens also has a social action project this year. Darn Washington and all this giving to others stuff.

            “I should have brought a smoker,” Mike lamented.

            “Henry really wants a part of the proceeds to Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey to go to research, so I’ve been looking into a few different places.” I said, “But Mike I know you know a lot of these people, why don’t you take a look at the list.”

            “Well, the one thing you have to understand is that most research is done by pharmaceutical companies and pharmaceutical companies want to treat the problem, but they don’t want to treat the cause of the problem. You see, when DDT was banned, it was replaced in many crops with Imidacloraphid, It's made by Bayer in the Netherlands. A pesticide that isn’t sprayed on the crop it is actually inside the plant. This way pests won’t ruin our food crops. At a certain rate it didn’t kill the bees, but it does cause a kind of bee Alzheimer’s. The bees forget where to go and what to do, hence the worldwide colony collapse disorder, or so many beekeepers around the world believe. The problem is we’re eating the same foods the bees are and if the bees are getting Alzheimer’s what’s it doing to us? The big pharmaceutical companies don’t want to answer that question.”

            “And we’re eating the honey they’re producing,” Donna added seriously.

            “Sure we are and Alzheimer’s is dramatically on the rise” Mike continued.

            “Our honey doesn’t have any of that!” Henry said. “It’s pure and clean.            “

            “You bet your sweet ass!” Mike said.

            “I feel like I was in the middle of the China Syndrome or All The President’s Men.  I suppose they figure they’d lose the crops if it weren’t for this? And so long-term we all pay the price.”

            “Then again who’ll know?” Henry adding his gallows humor.

(pear tree on the way home)

            “Well, I’ve always hesitated to spend the extra money it costs to buy organic produce, I mean I buy organic carrots because I can immediately taste a funny after taste if I don’t, but it can be almost ten dollars for a bunch of bananas sometimes which is a bit steep for my budget, but now organic has a taken a whole new significance.”

            “How much honey do you think is in the super?” Henry asked.

            “About 50 lbs.” Mike figured.

            “Wow all those thousands and thousands and thousands of bees. When you think about it, that’s not really that much honey.” Henry figured.

            “Well one bee doesn’t really make more than a spoonful of honey in its lifetime.” Mike pointed out.

            “Every time I spill even a tiny bit of honey now, I feel guilty that it’s a bee’s life’s work.” Donna added.

           

 

           

           

 

 

September 14 Poor Richard

September 11th All My Children

    

(Franklin, Richard and Silence- say good morning)

All I wanted to do was sleep after I took the boys to school. I figured I’d earned a little rest, the barn could wait, the honey business could wait, the laundry could definitely wait, but Lisa called. Phoebe was sick again and Lisa was working at the Cat Clinic. “I know you’ve been crazy busy, but could you do some of your work here?” She asked. She needed me and how could I turn down the Pheeb?

    “Sure. No problem.” I said, so Luther, Vivian and Bruno who’d already been promised a ride in the car came along. On the way, Amy called. "I have bad news."

    "What? Are you OK?"

    "I'm OK, but the front gate isn't. I thought my car was in neutral, but apparently it wasn't and I smashed through the gate. Do you hate me?

    "Huh, well at least your ok. Is it standing?"

    "It's standing, I wired it up with Andrew."

    "That's good, at least the animals won't go into the road." I said. Thinking one step forward, two steps back.

"I'l pay for it to be fixed." 

    "That's sweet, but I just don't know who we could get to come all they way out to do it. But we can think about that tomorrow. At least your ok and it's standing."

    "So much for the quiet tenant who keeps to herself. First the deer and the truck in the ditch and now this," she laughed nervously. I thought back to turning twenty and remembered plenty of kooky mishaps, none of them Amy would make, she's too mature. 

 (oops)

 (Bruno and Charlie play,play,play)

    By the time I got to Lisa's I needed another strong pot of coffee.Phoebe was no problem, she never is. She was riveted to Erica Kane and drank all the apple juice I gave her. “How’s school?”  I asked trying to avoid paying my bills.

    “I don’t know, I have barely even been to the fourth grade yet I’m sick all the time. My tonsils are pretty yucky,” she said ruefully. “How’s Nick doing?”

    “He’s having a hard time, lonely for his friends in Mammoth. He doesn’t really talk to anyone except some kid in World Lit that sits next to him.”

    “That’s too bad,” she said sleepily as she and Luther settled in for yet another nap. Since she didn’t need me, I started looking into honey label options for Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey™ and ordered sample jars for Tom to work with.

 (Phoebe & Luther resting)

    Lisa came home and we discussed her barn plans, horses and how much my wood shavings cost for my winter barn bedding. We were deep into counting our Weight Watcher points when I got a text from Nick. We don’t actually speak on the phone I just get messages. “Hi. Can I spend the night at my friend’s house?”

    “You have a friend? Who?” Was my first response, after that, I went from a quick NO to a definite maybe. I talked to Lisa about my fears and the disaster Henry went through last year staying at the crack-house-with-that-kid-who-had-the-brother-who-beat-his-mother. “Yet I don’t want to say no. I mean he was invited somewhere. He’s got a friend. There might be other kids. I don’t want to blow it for him. What should I do? After all Awesomez, was trusting me and I wasn’t about to drop the ball.”

    “I know I’ll call Diane. She still has connections and we can probably do a little checking.” She picked up the phone and sprang into Nancy Drew action tapping into the Bellingham parental equivalent of the FBI. “The kid doesn’t have any negative stuff attached to his name as far as I can tell,” she summarized after her third source reported in. After I spoke to both the kid and his father asking a myriad of questions, I let him go. As happy as I was for Nick, I was worried as I drove to pick-up Henry that he would feel ditched. He and Nick had had plans all week to go to Open Gym after Henry’s workout. So when Quinn strode up to the car I asked her if she wanted to spend the night. She and Henry always have a good time together. “Sure I want to see Gnatalie anyway, besides Phoebe’s sick.”

    We’d just hung-up from delivering the news of Nick’s social coup to Awesomez when the phone rang. I was winding my way along the rocky coast and wasn’t about to pick up the call, which isn’t a problem with a teenage girl in the car.

    “It’s Zach, the kid whose house Nick is at. He says Nick can’t spend the night and you’ve got to pick him up.”

    “What?”

    “He says he ‘forgot’ about some previous plans and Nick has to go home.” Quinn said skeptically.

    “Oh, no. I hope nothing happened.”

    “I feel bad for Nick. I hope he’s OK, that’s really terrible. That kid’s a jerk.” Quinn said in a moment of compassion. Surprising. She and Nick seem to have a “Moonlighting”, Bruce Willis/Cybil Shepherd-type relationship bantering all the time, but without him here she felt his pain.

    “Poor Nick, that’s cheap that’s gotta hurt,” Henry moaned.

    “Call your mom, she’s going to have to pick him up. I’m way too far away.”

    Not too long later, Lisa, Phoebe and Nick showed up at the gym. “Hey, I brought our teenager. Who knew we’d be sharing a kid,” she said with a laugh.

    “Is he ok?” I asked her after Nick went to change his clothes for Open Gym.

    “Yeah Nick confirmed that Zach’s previous plan thing was legit, he heard the girl call Zach and remind him about her birthday party.

    “That made us feel a lot better,” Phoebe chimed in.

    “Awesomez called. She feels terrible you had to go so out of your way,” I told her.

    “I don’t know why she’s worried. We’re not new to kids, we realized we weren’t getting a hamster.”

 (Nick tumbles)

 (Quinn straddle jumps)

 (Nick in action)

 (Nick)

 (Quinn, Nick and Henry on a tear)

(Amy's beautiful and thoughtful "please forgive me" flowers)

September 10th Tough Love

 (Cluck-Cluck - named by Amy, a Red Dorking)

    The alarm rang at 3:45AM, just a few minutes before “Cluck-Cluck” sounded off.

    “Think of it like summer camp,” I suggested as I set a hot cup of coffee in front of Awesomez. “You know kids on the East Coast often go away for three months at a time. He isn’t really moving away he’s just at Farm School.” I tried to lighten the mood of the dark foggy morning Awesomez left her son with me. 

    Her bags were packed and she’d cried a Kleenex box full of tears the night before, she’d worried about him making friends, his grades and how she was going to bare getting on the plane without him. She thought about how quiet it would be at home, but instantly thought of Lindsey, “She’s never ever quiet.”

    “She’ll come through and pick up the slack,” I assured her.

(Lindsey also known as "Little" at home waiting for the Momma to return)

    “Yeah, this will give us time to spend together,” she said looking on the bright side.

    We piled in the car for the airport with plenty of time. It was a quiet moment as I watched my friend say good-bye to her son. I was humbled by her faith in me. I was moved by the looks of anguish and loss that passed between them as they said good-bye. “Think of it like a summer camp…”

(Painful good-bye)

    I couldn’t believe I was going to drive away. But I did.

    From there I dropped the boys at school hopeful the day would go well. I went to work exhausted I could only imagine how the boys felt sitting in class.  On the way back to pick them up from school, I got a text from Nick. “Ate lunch – ALONE AGAIN”. I was bummed, I wanted a Disney ending, but I knew that isn’t how it really works. It’s hard being the new kid.

    Henry hopped out at gymnastics and I took Nick over to the Common Ground coffee place to do homework and make progress on the honey business. Nick worked on his history sentences while I prepared my food processor application for the state. To my dismay, my application was beginning to look a little like a term paper what with sanitation schedules, well classifications and kitchen diagrams. I was buried deep in a nutrition label information and font size requirements when Nick said he needed help. So we went over how a few things clarifying why the teacher was using different sources and multiple perspectives.

    I went back to work and Nick hunkered down or so I thought. In just a few moments I heard, “I’m done.”

    “How is that possible? There are a lot of questions.” I pointed out reasonably.

“I don’t know I’m just done.” He said eyeing me. I felt as though we were two gunslingers sizing each other up in the middle of town at high noon. He didn’t know whom he was up against.

    “Let me see.” I said hearing Clint Eastwood music in my head. He turned the paper toward me and looked away. For good reason, the words he’d strung together while having a period at the end were not sentences. They did not restate the question, they did not give any details and there was not one ounce of thought involved. I took the pencil and began erasing.

    “Hey, hey, hey!” He clamored. “What are you doing?”

    “These aren’t good enough. Did you see the instructions? You have to re-do them and this time you need to write full sentences and explain your answer. If I was the teacher and I saw that I’d give you a 2 a ‘D’, these are horrible. You just told me a few minutes ago what this one should have said, just write it down. You can do this. You can’t just move here and do the same stuff you used to do.” I wrote down a sample answer as an example.

    “But that’s so much work. You want me to write a book!”  He whined.

“It’s not as much work as doing it over and over and over and over.” I said with a teacher look as I took the ipod away. He looked at me and for a moment I wondered if he regretted being here. Was I being too harsh? Pushing him too much for the first day? I thought of other students, Johnny, Trevor and Lucky and thought NO. Every teacher knows, you have to be tough the first weeks of school then you can lighten up once the standards are set, understood and met. We sat in silence knowing the first one who blinked would lose.

    He picked up the pencil, pulled the paper toward him and said, “Do I need to say everything?” I smiled. Victory was mine.

(Rome wasn't built in a day)

    We closed the place finishing up Nick’s sentences and gathered Henry at the end of his practice.

    “How was your homework?” Henry asked getting in the van. “You guys were gone the whole three hours.”

    “Nick had sentences.” I said quietly.

    “I didn’t restate the question.” Nick added sullenly.

    “Ohhhhh. Yeah, she doesn’t like that.” Henry commiserated. “You get used to it.”

September 9th Caught Red Handed

    The first day of school ran like clockwork. Lunches were made with names properly marked in Sharpie™, clothes were selected, and breakfasts were hot. Everyone was up early and eager, showered and clean. Well almost. Nick and Henry for some reason the night before decided it would be a great idea to mix clay and red food coloring with their hands in order to further their ongoing claymation project.

    “Which of you two chuckleheads thought this was going to be a good idea?” I had asked in one of my more exasperated tones.

    “It said food coloring, we thought it just colored food.” Henry said stupidly standing in the hallway with scarlet fingers.

    “And you thought clay was food?” Awesomez called incredulously from the other room as she did yet another load of my laundry. “So let me get this straight Nicky you’re going to go to your first day at your new high school with red hands?”

    “Yeah,” he said holding up his hands,“ they’re going to say ‘Hey that kid with the red hands is bad ass.” Nick shrugged as he went to go soak his hands. Again.

    The boys scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. They alternated between putting thick greasy hand cream on trying to pull the color out and scrubbing. They used everything from mild soap to Ajax and Soft Scrub™ with bleach.  Eventually, their hands looked rose.

    “I’m not sure it’s an improvement.” I whispered to Awesomez.  Eventually, they did get their hands close to normal, except for their nails; which were a soft petal pink.

    The first day of school went pretty well, Nick liked most of his teachers and only got lost on the way to math. Henry got different teachers than Quinn had last year and therefore had a lot to report. Quinn missed Lauren and Phoebe became an upper grader.

    “A couple of kids said ‘Dude did you paint your nails?” Nick relayed.

    “What did you say?” I asked.

    “Nothing."

    "Nothing?" Quinn repeated.

     I didn’t speak all day except to say ‘Here” Nick said somewhat defeated. “I ate lunch alone.”

    “You’re going to have to put yourself out there son. Remember it’s only the first day. It'll get better.” Awesomez encouraged.

(Quinn trying to avoid the paparazzi)

(Henry, Quinnderella and Nicky - Picky on the first day of school - Phoebe is still in school)

    That night, we all tumbled into bed exhausted knowing the next day would be a repeat of: up at 5:15 AM, showers, coffee, dogs fed, cats fed, barn animals let out and fed, backpacks packed, lunches gathered and out the door by 6:30AM. So when I woke Awesomez up in the middle of the night to venture out into the rain to find my missing donkey, she was less than coherent.

    “Lis, Lis,” I said shaking her out of a sound sleep.

    “What?” She finally responded in a groggy voice.

    “I’m going outside. I don’t see Miracle. She and Sir Edward didn’t go in the barn with the rest of the animals.”

    “So, they’ve done that before and been OK.” She replied without opening her eyes.

    “I know, but she wouldn’t leave Sir Edward. They’re like butter and toast and he’s right by the barn door, but she’s nowhere in sight. I’d hate to have another tragedy so soon after Michael. Didn’t you hear that coyote pack?”

    “No. I was sleeping. Don’t you sleep?” She said looking at me with only one eye open.

    “Yes, I sleep, well, sort of, but I couldn’t when I heard the pack. Deli’s out too, she didn’t come back. I’m going out and I’ll take the van out if I have to go down in the pasture.”

    “You want me to come?” She said as it was dawning on her.

    “No. It’s OK.” I said meekly. “You’re sleeping.”

     “OK. I’m coming. Let me get my shoes on.” She said reluctantly. “Seriously, I think you woke me out of the soundest sleep I’ve ever had and I can’t believe we’re going outside in the rain to look for a donkey while a coyote pack prowls around. What time is it anyway?”

    “It’ll be an adventure?”

    “You’re an adventure. There’s always something.” She muttered.

    “Tom says it keeps things interesting.” I said to keep her moving forward.

    “But he’s sleeping,” she countered.

    “True. Miracle!!! Miracle where are your girl?” I called as I walked out into the cold barnyard. The shadows seemed too close in around us. I could see Sir Edward standing on three legs with his back hind leg resting. I figured he wasn’t nervous or tense, which seemed a good sign to me. Cautiously, we walked closer looking around for both Miracle and predators. “There she is!” I said relieved. “She’s laying down in the shadow of the barn. I guess Edward was standing guard so she could rest.”

(Miracle resting in the shadows)

    “Well good. I wasn’t looking forward to trolling the pasture. Now you can relax. Do you want to put them in so they can both rest since we’re here? It’s drizzling.” Awesomez pointed out.

    “I think that’s a good idea, then I won’t worry,” I agreed grabbing a lead rope and hooking it to Sir Edward’s blue halter. He went easily through the gate and into the barn. Miracle followed.

    Just as we got our equine snug as bugs in the barn, the clouds opened up. “Well, that was lucky” I said happily. “I’m glad they’re in now I can sleep.”

    “I can’t tell you how happy I am you can sleep.” Lisa said dripping with sarcasm as her head turned toward a rustling in the bushes just outside the fence.

    “What was that?” I said frozen.

    “I don’t know, what should we do?” Awesomez said reaching for a shovel.

    “Let’s go in the barn.” I instructed.  Slowly, I began moving toward the door when Deli came loping out of the brush tail a wagging.

    “Deli, you scared us!” Awesomez chided.

    The next morning as the alarm assaulted, I turned it off. When we finally got up, we were late. The kids left without their sweatshirts, grabbed a bowl of cold cereal to eat on the way and we gave them money to buy lunch. School is back in.

September 5th The Remains Of The Day

 (Irish and Bruno snuggle)

When the alarm rang, I was already awake. The house was dark and everyone was still asleep except for Irish who wagged his tail and Bruno who gave me a groggy look as I went down the stairs.  I poured a cup of coffee and dressed. I couldn’t just throw on coveralls, because I had to be at work at 10:30AM.

I peeked into Henry’s room. He was sharing his bed with Luther, Vivian and Emmet. I shook him gently.

“Henry, I’m going to the vet. Do you want to come with me?”

“What?” He said through a veil of sleep.

“I just want you to know it’s possible I might not come back with either Michael or the turkey. We just don’t know. I wanted you to realize that in case you want to come.” I explained in a whisper not wanting to disturb Lu.

“No. I think I’m going to stay here. Is that OK?”

“Sure it is.” I said walking out. I had to get going I had a lot to do.

I went to the barn fed all the animals, filled their waters and looked until I found a carrier for Michael up in the hayloft. I transferred him into it. I put in a warm towel and loaded him in the van on the seat next to the turkey carrier. I walked around to the other side and got up the nerve to check on the turkey. He lifted his head; he was still alive.

 (Michael on his way to the vet)

 (A lot to go through at 8 weeks-old)

“Hey there turk-a-lurk. You made it through the night. I hope you’re feeling ok. I’m going to take you and Michael to the vet.” I told him and closed the door. I went in the house, poured myself a cup of coffee to go and went back to the car. I was finally ready.

Just as I was backing up I heard a loud THUD on my window.  My heart about stopped as I looked over to see what it was. It was Henry.

    “Mama, can I go? I want to go! I couldn’t go back to sleep and I thought you were probably gone by now, but I took a chance and looked out the window and saw your brake lights and ran downstairs across the rocks without shoes just in case you’d let me go. I want to see Michael.” Henry said breathlessly.

    “You can go. Get some clothes on. Quickly. I don’t want to be late, but I’ll wait for you,” I promised remembering when my mother called me at my friend, Leah Paulson’s house after she put our dog, Susie, to sleep. Come to think of it, funny how I hadn’t before, we got our chickens, Max and Maxine from Leah, Rhode Island Reds, and when our dogs, Susie and Hansel got them we had to tie them around their necks until they rotted. It was supposed to be how you trained dogs not to kill them. I tried to shake the visual from my head.

    Henry got in and off we went. As we wound around we saw an animal in the road. “Mom! Stop!” We pulled over and thought we could get the dead creature to the side of the road. “ We got out and walked over to the animal.

    “Henry, I think it’s alive.”

    “It is, look,” Henry said as it lifted its little head and looked at us. “Mom, it looks like a mini capybara.”

    “I think you’re right, but how they don’t live here.”

    “I know, but there it is. What do we do, its body is broken. And I can’t find anything to move it with.” Henry said.

    “Well, don’t touch it with your hands it’s in pain and it’s wild it’ll bite if it can.” I said cautiously and sadly. “Honey, I think we have to just leave it. I can’t take one more animal to the vet. I just don’t have another carrier or anything. I’m not putting a wild animal in my car even if it is injured without a carrier. Especially with our birds.”

    “I understand Mama. I do.” Henry said as we hopped back in the car.

    “Henry they’re going to ask us the turkey’s name when we get to the vet’s office. I think he should have a name.”

    “I do too. What should it be?”  The phone rang and Henry answered it. “Hello? Dad! We want to name the turkey before we take it to the vet, but we don’t know what to call him. I think it should be something broken and twisted…You’re right! Quasimodo, that’s perfect Dad. Thanks.” And it was.

            As we drove along the farm roads, Henry turned to me “Mom, you know we named Michael, Michael because he moon-walked as a baby, but now you know what’s weird, he’s like Michael Jackson in another way, because he’s disfigured. Isn’t that strange?”

 (Henry taking Michael into Kulshan)

    We arrived on time with Quasimodo and Michael and were led to a small exam room. The round-faced curly-haired  blond doctor emerged friendly and compassionate. She put out her hand and introduced herself as  Erin West. She quickly assessed the situation and told us,

  (Doctor Erin West)

“Quasimodo had a shattered wing, and a very bad break in his leg.”

“He doesn’t have to be a perfect turkey. We can take care of him and he can live in our laundry room. I’ll turn it into an icu if he can make it.” I said. “But I don’t want to make him endure that if he’s not going to be ok enough to live a pain free life.” I explained.

“I don’t think he can make it,” she said quietly, but firmly.

“That’s it? You have to put him to sleep” Henry said, tears pouring down his face as if a faucet had been turned on.

“Oh honey, I know it’s hard.”

“He’s just a baby and I thought he might make it.” Henry heaved with tears as Erin looked compassionately toward him. Henry pet Quasimodo gently.

“I’ll be back with the paperwork. I’m so sorry.”

I signed the papers and Quasimodo disappeared. Henry climbed into my lap for a while as I say there holding my twelve-year-old as I had so many times before. Then I took Michael out and held him close rocking him gently trying to soothe us all.

“Henry, Michael smells a little funny. I’m worried he’s got an infection. You have to be prepared. He might not make it either.”

“I know.” He said as the tears continued, "but I think he has a good chance. He's strong and he wants to live. He's lived this long, that has to be a good sign."

Doctor West came back with one of Quasimodo’s feathers and took Michael away to examine him. “I need to put him under with a little gas so he isn’t hurt by the exam. Is that ok?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why did she ask you?” Henry wondered.

“Because it costs more money and she wants to make sure I’ll pay for it.”

“Oh.”

When Doctor West returned she explained to us that Michael’s wounds were too severe. He could have a miracle, but the truth was he had one eye missing. “What is there is just a puss pocket,” she explained. “He might have the other one, but his face is too swollen to tell. He definitely can't see anything right now. The real problem is his thin skin is dying and once his skin dies then his bones will. He could die a slow painful death or you could be here next week with a terrible infection.”

Henry burst into tears again. “We can’t wrap his head?”

“No, I wish we could. Do you want to see him before?”

“Yes, I want to say good-bye,” Henry said as he got up to follow her. “He’s so sweet. You don’t know him, but he is a very special chicken. He’d let you hold him and he’d climb in your lap.” We followed the doctor to the table where Michael lay. He had a tiny gas mask over his beak. Henry reached over and pet him. Then he leaned down and kissed his friend. “He’s my little baby. He never hurt anyone. He just loved.” Turning to the doctor he said, “May I have his orange band? And could I have one of his feathers like you did with Quasimodo?”

“Sure,” she said as we walked out.

A short time later she came to the desk with Michael’s band, the feather and two tiny caskets. I paid the bill and we drove home in silence.

 (Michael's tag and Quasimodo's feather)

“Are you glad you came?” I asked “Or was it just too hard? You know, we’re going to lose Vivian and Luther eventually. And Emmet is about 18 or so now.”

“I’m glad I came. I know I didn't know Michael long, but he really touched my heart. It’s like they say, it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all,” he said as he reached out and put his hand in mine.

 (the caskets)

 (Denise -sporting her new olive coveralls- and Awesomez dig)

 (Henry preparing Michael's marker with gold spray-paint)

  (Nick and Henry clip roots and pull away debris as they work on the gravesite)

 (Awexomez puts the caskets in the shared grave)

 (Sadly, we bury them)

September 4th What A Difference A Day Makes

   (In this picture - chickens on the inside of the coup - turkeys on the outside - at right and white fluff on the left - are sheep - something wrong with the camera setting - sorry)

    Since Michael's attack, we've kept the turkeys in the outside chicken run. This means the chickens have had to stay inside all day. So this morning, I decided to take a bold move and let the turkeys out in the barnyard. They are after all almost as big as the geese at this point and they can fly.

    Oddly, the sheep were drawn to them. All four: Apache, Angus, Mildred and Sheryl, came up sniffing them and then sat down surrounding the chicken coup watching the chickens and allowing the turkeys to climb on their backs. It was so unexpected I couldn't help but laugh. I felt good leaving knowing the turkeys could roam about the property and be near the chickens, but no one would be injured today.

 (couldn't get the turkeys on the sheep, but here they all are milling around - still something wrong with the camera)

    Given that, off we went to the Department of Licensing. Nick being fifteen and eight months is more than eager to get his learner’s permit. So for the second time in a week we all walked into the Department of Licensing and took a number. Awesomez and her son sat down, while I went outside to enjoy the sunshine. Henry walked to the DQ for a chili-cheese dog. Thoughts of Michael preyed on my mind. I dialed Kulshan Animal Hospital and spoke to a doctor about his condition.

            “Well, without seeing him, I can’t really recommend anything over the counter. The problem with his injuries is, it depends how deep they are. I could give him a shot of antibiotics and something to make him more comfortable.” She said.

            “Is it more money to come in on Saturday?”

            “No it isn’t.”

            “It’s just that money’s tight. If I can treat him myself I’d like to, but I don’t want to be negligent. “

            “I understand. You’re doing what you can. The electrolytes you got at the farm store are a good idea.”

            “I know he’s just a chicken, but we love him.” I said deciding I had to take him in. I couldn’t live with myself. “Is there something early in the morning? I have to work at 10:00 at the Everybody Store on the 9.” I asked and was transferred to the front desk where I made an appointment for Michael at 8:45AM. I felt better. Money, pigs can’t eat it. Why else was I working if not to take care of my family?

        I walked back in to find a frustrated Awesomez and a disappointed Nick. Unfortunately, she’d grabbed the wrong birth certificate and accidently brought Lindsey’s instead of Nick's. They couldn’t get the permit without it or without her, so he’d have to wait until her eventual return.

        “What happened to you?” She asked.

        “I made an appointment for Michael in the morning.”

        “Let me get this straight. You won’t buy a sandwich for yourself because you don’t want to spend the money, but you’ll take your chicken to the vet?” She marveled.

        I looked into her big brown eyes trying to find the words to make her understand but I couldn’t. “That’s right,” was all I could think to say.

        “Mil!” she said with an eye roll.

    Just then Nick dropped his water bottle on the sidewalk, "Nick you're water broke." Henry said with a raise of his eyebrow. 

    "Henry!" Awesomez laughed her bawdy infectious laugh.

        After that we stopped at the Whistle Work. I’d gotten a call that my fall wardrobe had arrived. I’d ordered two ensembles for my birthday – Special order because I had to order my coveralls in “short”. Naturally, I got the traditional slimming navy and a lovely shade of olive to set off my eyes – they’ll both go beautifully with my chocolate work boots. I was now set for the season.

    “Maybe you should sell designer coveralls with paint splatters already on them” Awesomez said cracking herself up.

    From there we went to the notary and met my sister. I’d written up a temporary guardianship document so we would have some sort of official paper acknowledging Nick. Unbeknownst to me, Awesomez was now starving and so without realizing it, I callously headed off to gymnastics without getting her any food.

    This is where the day went south. You see, once again, I forgotten to feed the Awesomez her noon feeding. A Gremlin by nature, Awesomez my little Gizmo went berserk. Ok, not berserk exactly, but she wasn’t happy, in fact downright cranky. Fearing the wrath or cold shoulder of Awesomez, I dropped her, and Nick, off at a little place near gymnastics called the Common Ground. I have to admit I was afraid to return until I felt she’d been served so I stalled for a teensy bit.

    A fed Gizmo is a happy Gizmo. We ran errands trolled thrift shops looking for bargains. Awesomez bought me all sorts of things from a backrest to pizza plates she wanted to make sure we’d all be ok in her absence.

    “Ahh, a Crockpot™ from a Crackpot” I said thanking her for everything.

    That night, we stopped at Burger King on the way and finally arrived home to a dark barnyard. As my headlights illuminated the way I saw Deli standing motionless near the garden. Strange I thought, she looked odd, but I dismissed it.

    Tired, I pulled the car over to the barn and left the van lights on so we could see. The boys ran over to Amy’s to feed the gliders, pigeons and bunnies because she’d taken a trip up to Canada with her friend, Sarah.

    “Will it be hard to collect the turkeys?” Awesomez asked.

    "I don’t know, I’ve never left them out before, but the geese know safety is in the barn, so I imagine they will too. We’ll see. They might be more like the ducks, but I hope not.”

    The lights from the van cast eerie shadows as we walked up to the coup, and sure enough two of the turkeys were sitting next to the door waiting for to be let in. I could see the outline of another one walking around just a few feet away.

    “We’re missing a turkey!” I called to Awesomez who was filling up a water bucket.

    “Really? Keep looking.” She instructed.

    “Oh my gosh! It’s dead!” I screamed.

    “What?”

    “The turkey! It’s dead! I can see the outline of its feathers from the lights. It's toward the compost”

    “How do you know it's dead?”

    “Come here. I can see a wing sticking up in the air. Look!” And Awesomez dutifully came to see the twisted carcass.

    “I’ll pull the car up so we can shine some light over there.”

    I kept working, giving Michael water, feeding the chickens, giving hay to the goats, when I heard the ducks quacking. “Quack! Quack! Quack, quack, quack.” I figured Awesomez was trying to wrangle them up on her own, a difficult task for one person.

    “Deli! GETOUTOFTHERE!! STOP!” I heard Awesomez bellowing. Dropping the hay, realizing it was Deli causing the ducks to quack. I knew she was attacking them. By the time I got to the garden where they were, Awesomez had already gotten Deli off of them.

    “She killed the turkey.” I said.

    “You think so?”

    “Absolutely. I saw her when we drove up and I wondered what was wrong.”  Awesomez held Deli at bay while I collected the ducks. The boys arrived on the scene just in time to form a sort of duck bucket brigade. I caught one handed it off to Henry who gave them in turn to Nick. When every goat, sheep, equine, goose, duck and chicken was fed and accounted for we walked over to the mangled turkey.

    “I think it’s breathing!” I yelped.

    “I thought so too,” Awesomez said quietly.

    “Do we kill it? I guess we should kill it.”

    “How?”

    “With a shovel? Or I could drive over it?” I suggested.

    “I’ll do it.” She generously offered. "You love it. I'll do it." 

    How do you thank someone for offering to kill your turkey with a shovel? I don't think Hallmark has a card for that. I knew she was again trying to take care of me. I so often push those attempts aside, but as I considered how horrible it would be to kill the eight-week old turkey I shuddered. I might just let her do it.

    Just then, the turkey lifted its head and looked me straight in the eye. “Oh my God! We can’t kill it! I can’t kill something that’s looking at me. Poor thing.”

    Henry rushed over to the turkey to comfort it. “This is worse than a soap opera.” He exclaimed.

    “What in heaven’s name do you mean very strange child?” I asked.

    “Well, yesterday I hated the turkeys and was ready to eat them. Now, I feel terrible for the little guy. It’s worse than All My Children. On that, they manipulate how you feel about a character one minute you hate them and and then the next you feel sorry for them.”

    “Huh. I see what you mean."

    "It's like Annie Lavery. They make her evil and then you feel sorry for her. I hated this turkey a couple of days ago and now I feel terrible. Poor thing is laying here barely alive," Henry whimpered wiping his eyes.

    "I’ll get the dog carrier out of the coup I've been using it for their shelter, let’s see if we can get him in and put him in my van. He’ll be safe in there for the night. It’s not cold and conveniently I just happen to have an appointment with the vet in the morning.”

    The boys bravely and carefully lifted the turkey into the carrier. We took the top half off, as he wasn’t going anywhere. “He has a broken leg,” Nick said. “It’s just dangling. Do you think it's Bucket?"

    "I can't tell with him lying down." I said.

    "You know which one Bucket is still?" Awesomez asked.

    "He's so much bigger than the others, I do when they're together." 

    “His wing is broken,” Henry said tearfully. “Do you think he’ll live?”

    “Well, I have no idea what his other injuries are. He might have ones we can’t see. There’s not much more I can do for him tonight. He might be dead by morning. You have to prepare yourself.”

    “Do you think he’s the turkey that attacked Michael?” Henry suggested.

    “I wondered the same thing.” Awesomez said.

    "Me too." Nick said.

    “I did too. It reminds me of my father. He was hit by a drunk driver on the freeway coming home from a gig in Santa Barbara, one the fourth of July. It was a horrible hit and run, his car was spun around and flipped. I was with him in the emergency room when they brought the drunk in and put him in the bed next to my father.”

    “Weird.” Nick said shaking his head.

    “Stupid Deli. I hate her!” Henry said as we all went in for the night. I know I should have said Deli was just being Deli, but Henry knew that and honestly I felt the same way. I couldn't defend her. I thought of all the animals she's probably attacking and leaving for dead on the mountain. 

    I fixed myself a cup of tea in the still of the house after I’d called, Tom and my sister. I’d gotten into bed when I realized it was getting really chilly. Fall was definitely on the way. So I got up went to the linen closet, found some old hair-dying towels and traipsed out to the van to keep my new patient warm.  I wondered if he’d be dead. I doubted he’d last until morning, but when I got there he looked up at me with his big turkey eyes. He seemed grateful.

    I went back inside and made another cup of Bengal Spice. Sleep would not come easily tonight. Awesomez was still awake. “You know, I was going to kill it.” She said walking in the kitchen as I was pouring a dollop of milk in my piping hot tea. “I thought about how I’d do it. I was going to take a shovel and close my eyes. I wondered how it would feel. And wondered how I’d feel afterward, but I didn’t want you to have to live with it.”

    “My sister said to be merciful we should take an axe and chop its head off tonight.” I informed her.

    “Easy to say until he's looking at you.” She said sleepily.

    "And what if it didn't die? Often times guillotines took several times. Henry was right, I could have served him up for Thanksgiving the other day when Michael was attacked, but tonight I'm doing all I can to keep him alive and I'm ready to get rid of Deli."

    "Tune in tomorrow," she said ironically shutting off the lights.

 (canine non grata)    

September 3rd I Can Cry If I Want To

(adorable hippo sculptures from Kenya via Paris from G. Horn aka - my dad)

and - annual - My Happy Birthday from Grandpa Horn

    It sounded like I left the dishwasher on the rinse cycle all night long. The Pacific Northwest was righting itself, making up for the endless hot summer days. With the relentless downpour Awesomez and I thought my day in Seattle at the Woodland Park Zoo would have to wait, but I called my sister and she reported it was to be a beautiful sunny day in the seventies.

    It was still early when we dragged Quinn, Henry and Nick out of bed and shoved some cereal in front of them. Awesomez volunteered to help me and together I went out to the chicken coop to take care of Michael. I held him and pet him trying to comfort him while Lisa helped me give him sips of water. She’s turning out to be a pretty good farm hand. She wrangles ducks, cares for injured chickens, herds goats and cleans stalls. Who would have thought Miss Immaculate would be OK with  goose poop on her tennis shoes?

    “Are you OK to leave him?” Awesomez asked quietly while I held him nestled in my arms. I could tell by the way she kept averting her eyes that she could barely look at him. His wounds were, deep and vicious. We wondered if what we saw was part of his brain and after close examination we weren't sure if he had one eye or not.

     “I am, only because I know Amy will be here and she said she’d call me every once in awhile to let me know how he’s doing.”

    By the time we got our acts together and met Lisa and Phoebe in Burlington it was already ten o’clock. A lot later than we planned, but we weren’t on a set itinerary for a change. When we pulled up to the appointed meeting place, Phoebe greeted me with the requisite birthday latte and a snuggle. I was showered with presents and oddly it turned out to be a two birdhouse birthday. Henry made me one and so did Quinn, Coincidence? Phoebe made me a very unusual and lovely bowl. 

(Phoebe starting the day out right)

(Phoebe made my beautiful birthday gift)

(surprised at receiving a second adorable bird house)

    Just as we got off the freeway I remembered “Lis- didn’t you want to go to some place down in Seattle? A burger place?”

    “Yeah, yeah, The Red Mill, it’s owned by this lady it’s supposed to have the best burgers ever.” Awesomez recounted.

    “Awesomez wasn’t that the place you said was on that show?” Henry asked.

    “Yeah, ‘Man Vs. Food’ “ Awesomez said.

    “Hey, The Red Mill! is right there! It’s right there!” Henry screamed, “We’re passing it!”

    “I can’t believe it. That’s it! What are the chances?” Awesomez said as we drove past on our way to the zoo.

     “I thought it would be at the other end of Seattle,” I said, “but I guess we know where we’re eating dinner.”

(Henry and Phoebe mosey along)

    We had decided to go to the zoo because we usually try and have a family outing on my birthday. In the past my birthday was usually at Sea World because September is a very hot and dry time in Southern California. We would never have considered the Los Angeles Zoo in the summer. And to tell you the truth, zoos can be depressing. Many of them have cages that are too small, I much prefer wild animal parks, but I wanted to go somewhere and this was both affordable and within a reasonable distance. I entered with a bit of skepticism. I’d heard a great deal of talk about the penguin exhibit and although fun, it was nothing compared to Sea World’s Penguin Encounter in San Diego. I felt like one of those people who move from New York and never think their new home's bagels are good enough or they are always asking why there aren’t any good bialys.

(Nick playing with a penguin)

(Penguin Scat)

    We went on to the gorillas and all of sudden The Woodland Park Zoo became my favorite place. The gorillas were awake. Something I wasn’t used to. And they were eating, holding hands and talking to each other. Interacting? They were close enough to view without straining over a rock. They’re behaviors were phenomenal and so were those of the lions, tigers and sloth bears. Orangutan playing peek-a-boo, baby pudu nursing, eagles ripping prey apart, snow leopard cubs pouncing, tapirs swimming and squeaking their shrill cries. It was unlike any other zoo visit I've had.

(gorilla eating an apple)

(Tiger got your tongue?)

(Sloth bear)

(After playing peek-a-boo he made his bead and took a nap)

(Endowed Wild Dog)

(Eagle eating prey)

(baby gorilla)

     Every time I turned around I saw an endangered animal enjoying the day as well as the common teenager, Nick sitting down. Moping - "Homo Sapiens var. Adolecence Mopious" It seems his knee might need surgery, so instead of dragging a despondent teenager all over the zoo, I did what my mother would have done. I got him a wheelchair and put an end to the complaining. Phoebe, Quinn and Henry were stunned. “My feet hurt!” Quinn exclaimed.

     “You don’t need surgery,” her mother pointed out.

     “Whatever,” Quinn quipped.

At 2:30 we were in line to feed the giraffe.  “It’s an extra $5.00? I don’t have enough cash I just have my debit card.” I said knowing I could borrow from my sister or Awesomez; it was my birthday after all.

     “I got it.”

     “What?” I asked.

     “I got money to pay for your giraffe feeding,” Henry said as he pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet.

    “Henry! You don’t have to pay for me, I can borrow from one of the Lisas.”

    “I want to pay for you. This is a birthday gift I know you’ll love and I have the money, “ he said putting his hand in mine and kissing me on the cheek. “Let me do this for you,” he pleaded.

    “Thank you, this is a wonderful birthday gift and I love the bird house too. I can’t believe you just used your father’s tools and did it. I’m really proud of you.” 

    "Really? I did all the measuring and everything. I used Dad's hand saw and Dewalt™. Phoebe helped me. I had Quinn do the writing, because after all that work, I didn't want to crap it up."

(Henry's handmade birdhouse)

(Home Tweet Home)

(Henry tempts our new friend)

(Me, the birthday girl)

(Henry, Awesomez, Giraffe)

     Awesomez was just going to watch from a distance and not actually feed the giraffe, but I pulled the birthday card and the boo-boo lip and she caved. We all filed in and began feeding our leaves when the phone rang. I wouldn’t have taken it, but I saw that it was Amy and I was worried about Michael.”

     “He’s fine.”

     “He’s dead?”

     “No. He’s fine. He’s alive! He’s alive and drinking a lot of water, he’s walking around and I’m holding and talking to him like you asked.”

    “Great. I was worried.” I whispered “I’ve gotta go we’re feeding the giraffes.” I hung up and looked over to see Awesomez giggling with Phoebe over the giraffe’s tongue. I was happy. This is a great birthday I thought as I saw Phoebe wheel Nick out of the giraffe enclosure.

(Can you really beat this much fun? - yes they are in fact growling)

    After an exciting day seeing things I’ve never seen at a zoo we topped off the outing with cheap, delicious burgers. The place was packed with a line out the door that never seemed to get shorter. It's a little hole in the wall really, but it seems everyone in Seattle knows about it. I couldn't believe the burgers were only three dollars for a cheese burger and about five for the  Green Chili burger I split with my sister to try and stay within the bounds of reason when it came to Weight Watcher points. The the kids had shakes and malts all around while Awesomez through caution to the wind and ordered the peppery onion rings.

    We found a table outside and sat in the waning sunshine enjoying the sounds of the city when The phone rang again and for the fourth time today it was Amy dutifully calling with Michael’s progress. “Hello?”

(Man VS. Food - recommendation - a new family tradition)

   

    “He’s good”

     “He’s dead?”

     “He’s good. I didn’t say 'he's fine' this time, because you kept thinking I said dead and you still thought I said dead.”

     “I guess I’m scared, thanks for taking care of him," I said "I never could have had this birthday without you watching him. I really appreciate it."  I thought of Amy sitting there holding Michael for me. I was touched at how much a part of our lives she's become in such a short time. How did I get so lucky to get a whacko like her who would sit in my chicken coop talking to my injured chicken for me so I could go to the zoo on my birthday. Her kindness brought tears to my eyes.

September 2nd Chicken Little

   (Luther relaxes in the shade of the hot summer sun)

     I am a Virgo. This might not mean much to you if you are not a Virgo, but if you are then you know what it means. It means I prepare for months so I know that when my birthday comes I can be at peace. I clean closets over the summer and organize the garage. I try to get all these things done so that my house will be in order when I inevitably age another year. This year I did not succeed in completing all these tasks. My closet was started, but never finished. The garage although cleaned has been ravaged by multiple children looking for a variety of books, colored pencils and junk drawer organizers. Although the railing and the eves were painted, the porch never got sanded nor stained. My bathroom drawers were completed, but the files and the guest room were not. This is how I tally my life. I think given half a chance, I could have been a type-A , if it weren’t for the animals. In fact, I used to have nightmares about heel marks made by my roommate Shannon’s shoes. The animals and the kids made my life messy enough to enjoy. But here the day before my birthday with dishes in the sink and the laundry undone, I realized that if I couldn’t finish the house then I needed to concentrate on cleaning up me, and I truth be known needed to be completely detailed. I must dye my greying hair, and get a pedicure.

    In the morning, I did get my hair handled and thought I was off to a good start. We thought we’d let Irish out so he could come with us to the pond, well the hole in the ground formerly known as the pond. No sooner did the over-amped extra-large pup start romping around than he decided he’d chase petite Gnatalie. I wasn’t worried at first, she’s a pretty tough cookie, but she got scared and took off. And that was the beginning of the day I wish had never started.

    Gnatalie ran half out of her mind doing laps around the apple trees and then in blind fear she blast through the wire fence ripping her lip open. Irish followed with glee having no idea he was terrorizing the poor bovine. Luckily, at this point Gnatalie found refuge with Abe and Andy through the open pasture gate where she settled down. Irish was quickly rounded up and Gnatalie taken up to the barn for treatment. We cleaned her up a bit and put a little Neosporin™ on her wound.

    As I looked the fence over it became clear, that even though I'd just put it up with Alexis, I was going to have to put up a whole new one. Fixing this one with the same kind would be just throwing good money after bad. A wood fence was needed.

(Gnatalie's injury)

(Henry gets Gnatalie cleaned up)

    Eventually we got to the pond minus Irish, and were happy to see at least some water remained. Things seemed to be looking up when Henry dug a little at an underground spring and increased the flow noticeably.

(Nick, Bruno and Vivian check out the "pond")

(Vivian wades in)

(entrance to Wally's old beaver lodge - usually underwater)

(Bruno - the ratbat - in the air)

(Henry marvels at erosion)

(Henry tries to get another source going)

(Henry and Nick dig for water)

    Afterward Awesomez, Nick, Henry and I drove to Burlington for gymnastics. Nick stayed to watch while Awesomez and I went to go get a pedicure. This is not to imply that Awesomez, who neither believes in the ritual of moisturizer, nor the idea of base make-up, and is allergic to perfume was even entertaining the idea of a pedicure but she had conceded on accompanying me. Unfortunately, getting Quinn from soccer practice was putting a kink in my plan. I’d agreed to go to a new and untested nail salon near her soccer practice so I could pick her up and had even driven up to said salon when I panicked. This was my birthday pedicure; a cherished ritual. I sat there in the car thinking about the last time I’d gone for a pedicure.  I’d given in and had a less than perfect nail experience. The last time was in California during my sorority reunion and I was going to indulge a $12.00 desire when I was pressured out if it, I still had regrets. Here in Washington prices are $25.00 for a pedi (no mani) so I wasn’t about to squander my money and compromise. Disappointed, I pulled away with unsightly toes.

    In an effort to get some birthdayness going, Awesomez bought me a brand spanking new waffle maker just like I had before. This because Quinn broke my pride and joy, the Warring™ Pro Plus, a couple months ago while she was trying to clean it. It’s clear she didn’t pay enough attention in Miss Noelle Ikanda’s fourth grade class when circuits were being explained or she would have known, you don’t submerge electrical appliances, she must have been talking to Kaitlin Maroney or Hannah Dorman or Mackie Miller or someone. I am grateful she at least seemed to retain the part about not having it plugged in when running it under water.

(a good thing)

    The waffle maker it turns out was the one bright spot in an otherwise bleak day. It seems, Awesomez is a little like a Gremlin. If you don’t feed her with in the given parameters she gets a little cranky. A cranky Awesomez is a frightening experience. I didn’t realize this until it was too late. I missed the “I’d like a coffee” as a request for food. It’s one of those moments you wish you could go back and have a do-over, but you can’t. Well without going over all the gory details she questioned my choice of macaroni and cheese as a snack food – apparently she believed Nick wouldn’t eat cold pasta, and I felt in my pre-birthday-over-sensitiveness, my maternal instincts were being indicted, so I stomped off. From there voices were raised, feelings were hurt, the car got silent, and my tires squealed down the boulevard into the gymnastics parking lot perhaps a bit dramatically, I am my mother’s daughter after all and she did teach me how to peel out when I turned sixteen.

    “Is this really something two friends should be fighting over?” Nick questioned all too reasonably.

    “Mom can’t you just say your sorry” Henry wondered as the long uncomfortable drive home labored on me in the way back seat while I sang “Happy birthday to me” softly into Henry’s ear while, Nick was in the front with a sullen Awesomez and Quinn sat somewhere in no-man’s-land. To tell the truth, I don’t know how long this tawdry little fight would have continued if the cell phone hadn’t rung from my home number.
“I’ve got some bad news,” Amy said solemnly. My mind raced was it Luther, Vivian, Emmett, Irish?

    “What? Tell me.” I demanded.

    “It’s one of the chickens.  The turkeys, well, I think it was the turkeys because I saw one over him when I walked in. The turkeys pecked him. It’s bad. I don’t think he’s going to make it. There’s a lot of blood and I think at least one of his eyes are gone,” Amy said methodically, her EMT training evident as she gave the status report.

    “Oh my gosh, ” I yelped.

    “What? What?” Henry and Quinn asked worriedly.

    “Shhh, not now,” I hushed them trying to hear Amy. “Should we kill it? Where is he now?”

    “I’ve isolated him in a box with a heat lamp and I was just wondering if you were coming home,” she said sadly, “he has an orange band on his leg.”

    “That’s Michael alright. Can you call my sister? She might have some suggestions.” Henry’s favorite, my favorite, everyone’s favorite “We’ll be there soon, we’re on our way.” I said not looking forward to explaining to everyone.

    When we got home, I went straight to the coop to assess the injuries while Lisa went inside with the kids. Amy was vigilantly sitting with Michael who was about as bad as you can imagine, yet he was alive.

    Henry walked in tears filled his eyes at the sight of his baby. “Michael my little Michael come here,” Henry cooed. Michael responded to Henry’s voice and tried to stand up and despite Michael’s horrific appearance Henry leaned over and picked up his friend holding him close. My heart ached. “Why Michael? Why? Is it because he's the runt?” Henry kept asking over and over.

    “Maybe. Maybe it's because he’s so sweet and he didn't want to fight. Poultry can be vicious. it's why they keep them in little cages on chicken farms. Honestly, right now I don't blame them. There really is a pecking order and maybe he was just too much of a sweetie,” I said.     Michael was the first chicken to be named, he was named because he did a moonwalk and hence was dubbed Michael for Michael Jackson, but we were never sure if he was going to end up being named for Michael Jackson or if maybe he might be Michael for Michael Learned.

“I hate the turkeys. They’re like a gang. Where are they? “ Henry asked finally cognizant they weren’t in the coop.

    “They’re out in the chicken run, they’re just going to stay outside tonight, it's not that cold. Unfortunately, I was going to separate them earlier, that’s why your dad and I worked on the turkey enclosure, but then we got the ducks and we were trying out different animals in different living quarters and frankly, I didn’t notice the turkeys getting soooo much bigger recently. And of course they are, they’re ginormous. Uh, do you think you could eat one?" I asked.

    “Yep.” Henry said with a resounding tone, “no question.”

    “Absolutely.” Amy agreed.

    Amy and I put together a little intensive care unit. We found the Lucite box the chicks had used when they first came. We’d searched the shop, the garage, the laundry room and the barn when I realized we’d moved it to the side of the chicken coop in an effort to “clean-up” when Gnatalie arrived. We also got a screen to put over the box to prevent Michael from getting maggots. Next the kids got some old towels, and the small gate we’d had over the box when the chicks first arrived. Amy and I considered having him come in the house, but we feared the sounds of cats and dogs would be too taxing on his little system and even though the turkeys and maybe some of the chickens had turned on him, the sound of the chickens cooing would be comforting. Socrates sat next to the Lucite box for as long as I was there.

    After we got the intensive care unit outfitted, we tried getting him some water. Quinn and Nick went and found an eyedropper and some luke warmwater. We started with a healthy chicken for practice. My sister had given us some direction – we were not to get water under the tongue, as chicken anatomy is very different from humans. The eyedropper proved to be upsetting so we moved to dipping his beak in water. He took some, but not much. I washed his wounds out with medical eye wash and put triple anti-biotic on to keep him from getting an infection. He stood up which was encouraging.

(I'm giving a very injured Michael some water)

    “Well, he’s still alive” Amy pointed out.

    “But will he make it to morning?” I asked.

    “I don’t know, but I didn’t think he’d make it this long. I didn’t think he’d make it until you got home.”

    “He’s such a sweet guy. I never thought I’d like a chicken so much. We’ll have to say a little prayer. “

    “Happy Birthday,” Amy said quietly “some start huh?”  How my focus had changed. The day had gone from bad to worse, but I no longer cared about my toes, or the macaroni, or even the extra weight I’m carrying, I just wanted to help the little life I’d taken responsibility for. I just wanted Michael to live.

(Michael and Henry in happier days)

WARNING - Graphic Pictures of Michael Below

(Disfigured Michael)