As The Butter Churns

August 23rd A Fair To Remember

 (the garden gate)
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(the picture from the porch for the booth)
 

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

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

 (Silence thinks she's a wild turkey)

 (Norton deals with the heat)

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

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

 (Awesomez and Phoebe work in the kitchen)

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

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

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

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

 (filling Phoebe's Fireball)

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

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

 (all the Fair stuff-)

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

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

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

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

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

 (Awesomez in THE booth)
 

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

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

 (Lindsey is hot)

 (Mike and Henry string lights)

 (Lindsey helps string lights)

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

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

 (Denise putting it all together)

 (the bee facts Tom cut into flowers)
 

 (Tom hangs the bee facts while Mike supervises)
 
 

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

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

 (The hand washing station)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (Chris working it)
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Only since April,” I protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

February 22nd Lost & Found

 (Searching for Henry) (Crazy Canada guy)
 

 (Swedish fan)

 (USA - fans)

 (Canada Moose)
 

 (Chinese fans- ready to cheer)
 

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

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

  (Henry trying to get someone to notice him)

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

 (The flags)

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

 (the official beginning)
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (Henry with his USA face)
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (Team USA Curling)

 (Sweden's Ladies Olympic Curling Team)

 

 (Team USA in scoring position)

 (Henry and Chris share a high-five)

 (Everyone watches nervously)
 
  (Chris being Chris)
 

 (Curling video assist)

 ("So do you think that's the 

Zam-Broomie?" Lisa cracked herself up)
 

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

    “Go Sweden Go!” From Quinn?

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (Quinn & Lindsey Go Chinese!)
 

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

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

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

 (Heckler)

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (China vs. Canada)

 (Proof we were there)

 

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

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

     “1-2-3-where’s Lindsey?”

     “I’m right here!”

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

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

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

     “Nice flag,” Henry admired.

 (Fireman Joe Spring)
 

     “You too,” Joe laughed.

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

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

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

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

 (even Canada lost their pep)
 

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

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

 (Denise and Lindsey en route to the flame)
 

 (we keep walking toward the flame)
 

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

 (Holding the flag- Henry marches in)
 

 (The FLAME)

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

 (Our Olympic friends from Orcas Island)
 

    Just then, my phone rang. “Hello?” 

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

     “Really? Tom saw us on TV!”

    "OHMIGOSH TOM SAW US ON TV" Phoebe squealed.

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

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

     "We’re at the flame now".

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (the yet unknown signature)
 

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

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

     “London 2012?” Chris suggested.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 21st Olympic Odyssey

 (Lindsey)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  (Lindsey sets to painting)
 

 (Grandpa Horn talks to the band)

 (Henry and Lindsey listen to Grandpa Horn)

 (Lindsey flips)

 (Lindsey lands)
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “What?” Lindsey questioned.

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

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

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

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

     “She does,” Lindsey said pointing to me.

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

     “Denise,” Lindsey answered. Whew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  (Henry's U S A sign reflecting)
 

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

  (Canada hats)
 

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

 (Italy)
 

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

 

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

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

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

 (Bronze-colored street performer)

 (Broadcast booth in Robson Square)

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

 (Zip line launch next to the flag)

 (painted Canadians)

 (a building in Vancouver)

 (flags fly everywhere)

 (the Dutch)

 (Olympic mascot)

 (Lindsey clowns)

 
 
  (Sweden)

 (Nike™)

 (yeah for our team)

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

 (Vancouver 2010)
 
 
  (Everyone has spirit)

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “’Cause we might miss something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "Is Hell a swear word?"

    "YES!" Lindsey said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  (proof we are really going)

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

     “I’m right here,” she said.

  (On the train after it thinned)

 (Lindsey and Phoebe walk and walk)

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

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

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

 (lots of details)
 

 (security screening)

 (we're in!)

 (The Chinese are ready for curling)
 

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

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

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

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

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

February 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 1st The Game of Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Really?,” she said a little surprised.

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

    “Do they know us?” He smirked.

    “I know right?” Henry interjected.

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

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

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

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

 (Phoebe works hard)

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

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

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

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

    “Me too!” Henry agreed wholeheartedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (Quinn is teaching herself)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 (Quinn is ready to cut tom's hair)

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

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

    “Your next Mike,” I laughed.

    “ I'm game”.

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

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

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

 (endless hours of family fun)
 

 (Henry calls Bingo)
 

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

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

 (Tom and his Bingo card)

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

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

 (some of my cards -)
 

October 23rd Sweet Smell of Success

 (Mosquito Lake Road all dressed up)

    Irish is a life-size Winnie the Pooh only entirely too smart. Somehow he managed to figure out how to turn the spigot on the giant honey container we kept in the kitchen. Honey oozed everywhere. I only discovered it because I heard the repetitive smacking of happy dog lips coming from the kitchen. We no longer use that container – and rest assured it was only our personal honey.

 (retired honey bucket)

    To introduce Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey™ and Henry’s Stingers™  Henry cheerfully made our display for the Everybody Store Cheese Fest. I gave him the basic information that needed to be included and he set to work drawing, printing, organizing and coloring.  Henry has to do almost all the work to give it that authentic “kid feel”. He created the honey display much the way he would have had it been for the Science Fair.

    At the same time Henry was cutting and pasting bee facts, I was staining and stuffing the Auction basket for the Humane Society. We were donating an oil painting (Tom did), some honey, some Stingers™ and a “Bee Experience” – an afternoon where the winning bidders get to come out and don bee suits, learn about hive life from Henry and Mike, tend to the bees and then extract honey from the comb and have it on some hot corn bread with lemonade.

 (Henry's pepper)

 (fresh from Michaels)

 (in progress)

 (Henry's Sweet Miracle Honey™ labels fresh off the printer from Tom)

 

 (Whoo hooo!)

 (Henry doing heat seals)

 (jars galore)

 

 

    To add another layer to an already busy night we had to put labels and safety seals on all the products. And- were also giving out Stinger™ straws for each plate at the $1000.00 a table Humane Society Masquerade Gala. Each person was to have a Stingers™ at the top of their dinner plate with a label tied on with a small portion of green pipe cleaner.  The labels were specially made with Chris's help directing the guests to our new website and encouraging them to enter their email addresses. It told of Henry’s desire to donate a portion of the profits to the preservation of honeybees and offered a chance to win stuff! I thought this was going to be wonderful. It was our big chance to get in front of more than 250 people not on food stamps that have an obvious concern for the environment and who participate and support local products. I was thrilled. Only FedEx did not deliver. Tom sent the labels two-day guaranteed delivery for 3:00PM. But they never arrived and what’s worse FedEx had no explanation as to why.

    “I’m sorry it looks as though the package has gone all over the place and has been in Seattle since 11:00 this morning.” A man said somewhat apologetically.

    “I saw that on the tracking information. My question is – why? I could have driven to Seattle and gotten them by now.” I was more than annoyed. My plans were going by the wayside quickly.

    “I have no idea why. I’m sorry, but the facility the package is at is just a sorting facility, they don’t deliver. I don’t know why it ended up there.

    “So that’s it then? I can’t even get them delivered to the event tomorrow?” I asked resigned.

    “Honestly, I doubt it. “ He said more apologetically. So at 7:00 PM after my fifteenth phone call I finally accepted the labels were going to spend another couple days in a warehouse in Seattle and I tried to figure out what to do next.

    Tom suggested sending the file to a Kinkos™ and trying to reprint and cut them all over again. That would cost a fortune and I had to be at the ding-dang Cheese Fest by 9:00AM. So I nixed this idea. Amy suggested we reconfigure a version of the Stingers™ label in Photoshop™ and print a placard for each table. That sounded good and Amy, Henry and I worked for quite a while on doing just that. Then my sister told me that was a no-go because you had to pay to do that as a sponsor. So in the end they got stuck in a vase without any real label other than “try one – spicy” and put next to our donation.  No one did. We got back almost as many as we sent.

 (Amy hanging out and getting wrangled in)

 (ready for the auction)

 

 (Henry and Mike, Tom's oil on raw burlap, Henry's Sweet Miracle Honey™ and Henry's Stingers™)

 (Lisa as the King of Pop and Chris as Julia Child on their way to the Humane Society Gala - Lisa is on the Board of Directors - did I mention Lisa can moonwalk?)

    Meanwhile back at the honey house Henry put the finishing touches on his display and together we double-checked our list of supplies we’d need to load in the van in the morning.

 (I didn't want to make a turkey out of myself and forget something)

 (Silence checking everything twice)

 (this is the result of a turkey stepping off the top of the rabbit hutch and on to my face - Richard lost his balance - nothing a little make-up wouldn't fix- lucky my eye didn't get any closer)

    Once at the Everybody Store, I set up the display and the rest was all Henry. He got into his beekeeper suit and went to work. Jeff moseyed out to see what all the fuss was about and gave it the skeptical once over. “Safety seals huh? Professional. Nice display” was all he said and went back inside with a jingle of the bells on the front door. I think he thought Henry would stick to it for about six minutes. But Henry is my child. He waved at cars motioned for them to come in and asked everyone who even came near the store if they would like to taste some of his “special” honey. He was like a Girl Scout selling cookies to the 4^th power.

    Every time someone rang up a jar of Henry’s I could hear Jeff mumble, “He’s sure selling a lot of honey.” This is primarily because Amy decided the store wouldn’t be involved in any of the honey money. Henry simply gave his honey customers a ticket, they paid at the register and then Jeff would give him / us cash at the end of the day. 

 (Henry working)

 (our tagline "Give bees a chance")

 (giving Stingers™ samples)

 (Henry and John from Peterson Cheese)

    The Cheese Fest rolled on quietly. There were cheeses aged in caves and cheeses with truffles and somehow Henry got the cheese expert, John, to drizzle Stingers™ on some of the brie. “It’s really good this way. I think I’m going to mention it to the chef at the Silver Reef Casino” the Peterson rep told me “Maybe Peterson should carry it.” He thought out loud.

    While in the midst of giving a sample of triple cream Bavarian Blue to a woman, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd. I looked at the woman, who smiled back at me and realized it was Roberta, my mail lady.

    “You weren’t home and this package needs a signature,” she explained as she patiently waited by the deli case. I was incredulous. I do live in Mayberry. FedEx left my package in some warehouse while my local post office stopped in at the Everybody Store Cheese Fest for my signature? My faith was restored. I thanked her profusely, signed for the package and tucked it behind Henry’s honey table for later. 

    At the end of the day, when I got off work, Henry was invited with the “Big boys” to go play handball. I cleaned up and loaded the van. Henry had sold two cases and Jeff asked to be cut in on the action for tomorrow. He wanted Henry back with his display. “The kid’s a shill,” Jeff grunted. This was high praise from Mr. Margolis.

 (a fiery display on the old Mosquito Lake Road)

    As Henry walked back from the handball court along side the railroad tracks, he looked very Opie Taylor and it warmed my heart. We head home and he was full of stories of customers and tastings. He suggested changes for tomorrow. He wanted more crackers and popcorn, the pears didn’t hold up throughout the day. “They started to get brown and people don’t like that.” He explained wriggling out of his bee suit. “Alexis said he couldn’t believe how much honey I sold. Maybe I can do this every weekend,” he said as Irish smelling honey sharked around the kitchen counter looking for his opportunity.

 (land shark)

June 14th Rain Rain - Go Away

(Flag day)

    My vision of the day was of painting the porch and working on securing my blueberries from my ravenous  Oberhasli’s. Then Lisa called and said she needed help driving a bunch of bikini clad girls and my son to the water park, I figured I should oblige after all ,she does so much for me.

    As luck would have it, after twenty-four days of unrelenting, front page sunshine it was in fact, a dreary, cloudy day in Bellingham. I arrived at the Donaldsons in timely fashion, cleaned out my car of hay debris so as not to embarrass Quinn, although truly anything could embarrass Quinn at any moment. This was just one less item to worry about.

    We met the teens and their parents at The Food Pavillion parking lot. I got out of the van to get some much needed cat food for my cranky cats while the gaggle of girls decided who would ride in which car. I knew I'd get Lauren, because Quinn would be terminally embarrassed for anyone else to ride with them other than a trusted ally like Lauren - who has her own embarrassing little sister, Jordan. I  was shocked when Quinn came over in the middle of the frey and slipped her arms around me and said "Thanks for doing this for me, I really appreciate it. I know you had other things going on." Now I'm sure Lisa must have made her do it, but heck - she did it.

    Despite the thick layer of clouds, the sun emerged and the day turned out to be spectacular just as Chris had recklessly guaranteed all the kids.

(Chris - covers himself with sunscreen before attending to the children - he subscribes to the airline mask philosophy)

(Quinn and Lauren)

(Quinn, Lauren, Henry - laugh and laugh)

(Phoebe - our Little Miss Sunshine)

(Chris lounging with his birthday girl ribbon)

(Lauren, Henry and Phoebe)

It was a bittersweet afternoon though as this will be one of the last events Lauren will attend on a regular basis anyway. She is moving with her family to Eugene because of her father’s work, a continuous reminder that these are hard times. Hopefully, difficult choices will turn into wonderful opportunities as the clouds lift and the sun begins to shine for all of us.

 

June 6th After Midnight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(a little jungle ball)

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

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

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

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

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

(Tom working the grill)

(Tom gets the full explanation from Beekeeper Mike)

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

(Noah, Parker, Justin & Henry)

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

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

    “You’re kidding.”

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

    "Really?"

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

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

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

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

(Phoebe with hamburger ice cream cake)

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

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

May 10th Are You My Mama?

(leader of the band)     

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

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

(sweet)

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

(Alexis clearing the land)

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

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

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

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

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

(mowing my lawn)

(everybody eats)

(happy cows)

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

    “He cleaned my room.” I said proudly.

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

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

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

(Phoebe and Henry climb trees for entertainment)

(monkey-boy)

(Lunch is served in the tree as requested)

(Miracle with her fly mask on relaxing)

(working girls)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chris doesn't survive)

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “No. I did.” I corrected.

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

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

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

(in search of a Mother)

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

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

(twice the fun on Mother's Day)

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

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

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

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

(Foster Family)

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

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

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

    “Uhhh no.” Quinn responded authoritatively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

February 15th A Helping Hand

 (frosted trees as it begins to snow again)

    I languished in bed until the sun screamed at me to get up. When I looked outside I was surprised to see winter was back. The night had silently provided a glistening winter wonderland. Hobbling downstairs I poured a cup of coffee and walked outside onto the porch. Curled up with a blanket I there chatting on the phone in my green flannel pajamas, talking and laughing the morning away as the geese carried on their own conversation like a happy bunch of Greeks.

    Most of the day I spent in bed resting my leg. It was throbbing and I began wondering if it was ever going to heal. About noon, I was supposed to go retrieve Henry. The prospect of a shower was daunting, so I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and put on some lip-gloss. On my way out the door I spotted Alexis rigging up something in the barn. He’d just collected another of Clara’s eggs. I decided to put it in my jacket pocket to show Phoebe. She’d definitely want to see it.

(clear skies surround the twin sisters)
    I drove the ten miles to the little café on Mt. Baker Hwy where Lisa, Chris and the kids were waiting for me. They’d already ordered. As I pulled the egg out of my pocket I saw Phoebe’s eyes dance. “Whose egg is that?” She asked in awe.

    “Why’d you bring that?” Quinn asked with all the teenage angst she could muster.

    “Can I hold it?” Phoebe asked.

    “It’s covered in poop.” Quinn pointed out.

    “You’ll have to wash your hands before you eat.” Chris reminded her.

    “That’s ok.” She said gently taking the egg in her hands. We continued talking about the different nests and goose behaviors. I told Lisa I had the fool-her eggs in Matilda and Clara’s nests.

    “Not exactly the number, but it’s not like they can count.” I said laughingly.

    “Well actually they can.” She said seriously.

    “What?”

    “Yes. They count them and turn them for even heating.” She informed the table. While she was talking I looked over at Phoebe. She was absently petting the egg.

    “Are you petting the egg?” Chris asked choking out a laugh.

    “Yeah, I guess I am.” Phoebe said with a big smile. I vowed to put the proper amount of eggs in the nests, and was just about to take Henry when he begged to stay with Chris, Lisa and the girls “Just one more day. Pleeeeeze!”

    “Sure why not?” I gave in a perhaps too quickly. Isn't  a mother is supposed to pine for her child or something. I had visions of lounging in my bed getting some work done filling my head. The idea of no one to make dinner for, no one to ask me for anything, just peace and quiet was an interesting idea.

(Alexis' goose rig)

(other half of the room)

    I got home as Alexis was finishing with his barn rig. It was pretty sweet. He had divided the goose stall in to two separate areas for the two couples. Each had their own dog carrier as their potentially portable nest. They could share water, and food, but remain separate. While the other four were in the old dog pens clipped together in the center of the barn making a menacing sound. I felt badly for Miracle; those big ears and all. I wondered if the racket drove her absolutely nuts or if the animals liked the activity.

(Miracle wonders what all the fuss is about)

(Alexis and Cleveland)

(The egg-less couples - by choice)

I went inside the house with the intention of doing some stuff on the computer, but Alexis built me a fire in the family room and I relaxed with my leg up as another couple of hours melted away catching up with old friends.

    After the barn was closed up for the night, Alexis and I decided to hit the North Fork Beer Shrine – Pizza- and Wedding Chapel. I’d saved my points and was ready for the house cab. We had a great dinner and a long talk about life, our hopes our dreams and how we intended to re-introduce the goose eggs. What came next was unexpected. I don’t know why maybe it was the wine, or the snow or the long talks I’d had with my friends lately, but I found myself opening up and admitting I’d felt his help around the farm had been a sort of criticism. I told him I'd felt every time he helped, he was constantly telling me I didn’t measure up. He looked at me quizzically.

    “I’d sensed something.” He said matter-of-factly.

    “You see when you feed the cows a bale of hay, I feel you think I should have fed the cows a bale of hay the day before and I’m not really taking care of the cows the way I should. The same with cleaning the barn. I guess you could say I have a hard time accepting help. This drove many boyfriends away.” He nodded readily acknowledging how this might be a problem with just a little too much understanding. I ignored this most recent affront. “I’ll never forget one boyfriend telling me quite honestly, ‘Denise I know I’ll never be your hero.’ I guess, my injury, my leg has made me slow down. I can’t tell you how much your help has meant to me these past two weeks. I don’t know how I would have done it with out you.”

    “Your welcome.” He said with a grin. “You know as I’ve said before, this place isn’t a one man job or even a two man job. You really need Tom up here and help on top of that. How about if you feed in the morning and just know I’ll handle the evening. You don’t have to ask, we don’t have to arrange, you don’t have to confirm, just know I have it covered.” He offered magnanimously.

    “Thank you.” I said taking another big sip of the at least 3 point glass of wine.
     When dinner was finished, Alexis waved me away and paid the bill. He stood up and extended his hand. “I’m Alexis, it’s been nice to meet you.” He said warmly. I’d made a new friend.

February 14th Sleepless Near Seattle

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

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

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

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

(Kessa making the price list)

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

(getting the gym ready)

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

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

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

(the playbill)

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

(Lisa and Phoebe with crimped hair)

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

(Quinn taking Quinn)

(almost time)

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

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

(Henry and Nana -Annie)

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

(221-B Baker Street)

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

    

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

January 3rd Runs In The Family

(Laura's stocking)

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

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

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

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

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

 (Laura and Tom)

  (Laura's Audrey)

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

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

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

(Henry and Jesse during march in)

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

    “I set a timer.”

(Henry with his coach on rings)

  (Henry again)

(Henry on parallel bars)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Tom makes a snow angel)

January 1st Can't Say No.

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Up close and personal - Vivian and Bruno snuggle)

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

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

    “I love it.” Wayne chimed in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Pea helping finish up my work)
 

 (The blue tape makes it look even more carnival)

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

  (The Donaldson's chile bribery)

(Can't resist)

(Putting on the lime wash)

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

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

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

“Maybe some blue” Henry suggested.

“A thin blue line?” Tom added.

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

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

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

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

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

(Maryruth's room - almost done)

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

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

December 25th A Sinking Feeling

 (Lloyd and Clara all dressed for Christmas dinner?)

(our Christmas geese: Lloyd, Clara, Mabel, Ruthie, Alfred, Quackmire, Matilda and Cleveland)

Preparation for our “Walton Family Christmas” demanded more of me than shopping. It required putting into action “it’s the thought that counts”. To this end, I did several photo shoots of the kids to give as gifts to most of the people in my life. The project was so rife with problems I thought we’d never pull it off. The first weekend the girls came over we didn’t get snow. Then there was the Quinn problem. At twelve years of age, she is very self-conscious and silly. I must have taken two hundred photographs and Quinn ruined one hundred ninety-nine of them. She was too cold – primarily because she only wore a tank top under her turtleneck. Why anyone would do this when they knew they were going to lie in the snow remains a deep-seated middle school mystery. She felt weird smiling because of her braces; she hunched her shoulders because she felt too tall; her hair poofed up behind her head because she wiggled nervously; she leaned the wrong way; etc. I finally got the shot, but when Costco™ printed it they cut off Quinn’s face, so I had to reprint it. I then uploaded it again and re-ordered. I drove back to Costco™  - still only half of Quinn. So I repeated the process again and yet again until, at last, on Christmas Eve the photo came out right.
(Scarves on sale at Ross.  Shot to hang this way at the Donaldsons' - upside down at Tom's - and Quinn at the top for the grandparents)

    Henry is getting one real gift from Tom and me, an orange iPod™ Nano™. I thought that, given our finances, it was too big a gift, but try telling that to a father who only sees his son once a month or so. Tom got a real deal on it through work and ordered it engraved before I had a thing to say about it. It is the one thing Henry has been pining for. One present for each of us makes a pretty barren presentation beneath the tree and, so it wouldn’t look so sparse, I dove into a box of hand-me-down games my friend Kathy gave me. Her grandkids had never played with these games and I don’t know if Henry will either, but they were free and when wrapped up they would be something to rip open on Christmas morning.

    Christmas Eve we trekked down to Burlington to get the pictures and made another trip to Michaels™ for one more clearance frame. Then on to Mass and dinner at the Donaldsons for Tom’s favorite, Lisa's beef stew. We stayed way too late laughing and chatting, considering the wrapping I had ahead of me. And we all showered before we left since we were going on day 10 without water due to the still-frozen pipes.
(very merry with fondue)

(Chris and Tom wrapped up a little something for Henry to open Christmas Eve - a lemon. As a result Tom got an onion in his stocking and a warning from Santa not to cry about it.)

(Henry and Phoebe messing around - with the lemon?)

    When we got home, Tom looked bleary-eyed. He tried staying awake to help me, but his endless hours of driving to make it by Christmas Eve had caught up with him and he checked out. I dialed up Mike about 1:30 AM, knowing he’s almost always up for a late night chat and, wearing my hands-free headset, I wrapped pictures, cleaned the house and wrote the clues for Henry’s annual Christmas Treasure Hunt while we discussed everything from soup to nuts. 

    One clue is wrapped up or hidden on the tree. Once it is found, there are about five or six more clues leading to the big gift. Clue Number 1: "Let's face it, it's time to look for your present".



("You're almost there, you're steaming hot." leading to the tea kettle)

      Mike and I finally said good-bye and I went to bed around 6:00 AM, only to get back up and make my special occasion Chai French toast and bacon around 9:00 AM. After the stockings, the hunt and the trash pick-up we began preparing for our big waterless Christmas Dinner.

     Tom spent all day in the kitchen. He boiled at least thirty-two pitchers of snow as he washed days of dishes, while I tidied, made centerpieces, mopped and placed candles around the house. Henry did his share by changing the litter boxes, cleaning his room and vacuuming. Wayne gathered enough pond water so we could flush with abandon when the guests arrived
(my Target™ 40%-off runner, $ 2.00 hurricane lamps, logs from the woodpile, glitter from my teacher art box and pine cones from the yard)

(rose hips and a bow)

(ready for dinner)

    The actual dinner was a snap, really. I bought paper plates, cups, bowls and napkins. I even sprang for the fancy, shmancy plastic chrome-colored silverware. Annie bought the turkey ahead of time, washing and salting it before giving it to me. I made stuffing and popped the turkey in the oven. The salad came in a bag. The green beans were from Trader Joes™ as were the five boxes of frozen scalloped potatoes I put in a lasagna pan. The hors d’oeuvres and dessert were from Costco™. Not my culinary achievement, but delicious, nonetheless. We sat down in candlelight, thankful for all our blessings, our friends and our family. Yet the toasts ran to indoor plumbing, running water and flushing toilets. Cleanup was as easy as 1-2-3, at least until the sink unexpectedly separated from the counter top.
(disaster strikes)

    How that was possible after less than a year’s worth of use stunned me, but I’d have to think about it tomorrow.  We poured more sparkling cider, eggnog, rum, and wine, and played games by the funky Christmas tree. Little-bit-of-a-snippet, Phoebe, triumphed over all of us, but we gave her a run for her money.

     It wasn’t a grand Christmas, but I’ll wager it was one we’ll all cherish. Good Night and Merry Christmas, John-Boy.
(Exhausted from the Christmas festivities - Irish, Bruno and Luther settle in for a long winter's nap)

December 21st Alive!

(Henry outside his bedroom window)

Henry the homebody decided to stay home, but Alexis and I decided enough was enough we needed to go to town. We wanted to replace my broken chains, and take a hot shower. With Alexis by my side, I exchanged the chains with some brisk convincing. And we were off to Lisa’s luxury bathhouse.

Warm to the bone and ready to go home, we gathered up the girls for a weekend on the farm. Naturally, they made popcorn in the popcorn machine and we watched a triple feature “All My Children – the memorial to Myrtle Fargate”, “Crusoe” the new series and “It’s a Wonderful Life”. By the end, everyone wished Irish’s name was Clarence, he’d have made an excellent Clarence - but tell that to the Notre Dame graduate.

(snow snuggling)
(Henry carries sled/boat)

(Quinn tumbles)

(sisters)

(Norman Rockwell winter weekend)
(Andy watching the action)

(fun, fun, fun)

(at the bottom of the hill)
(sledding cougar hill near the pasture)


(flying down the hill)

    For the next two days except for taking care of the animals and getting water from the stream by the pond, it was sledding and more sledding. We brought the inflatable boat from the pond to accommodate us. Henry and I carried the boat up the most with Quinn complaining. “Tell us Phoebe, when are you going to carry the boat up?”

“I di-idd!” Phoebe whined with a familiar, this-snow-is-so-hard-to-walk-in-and-these-boots-are-so-heavy-I-don’t-think-I’ll-make-it-up-the-hill-one-more-time-tone.

“No you did not.  Denise carries it up for you Phoebe. Is it because you’re the littlest and you can’t?” She said with the distinctly bitter older sister tone.

(making the goose bed and leaving food)

(Henry and Alexis walk on the frozen pond)

(the pond gets smaller and predators can get closer)

I remember when I was five my mother saying “Hold your sister’s hand, she’s so little she’s just three yet”. Only to hear her saying when I was eight “Hold your sister’s hand she’s only five.” I guess I was wired for big sistering though, because I liked taking care of Lisa. If she fell, I helped her up. When she was little I’d make treasure hunts for her on vacation and help her find the clues leading to the buried treasure of candy rocks in the middle of the Painted Desert. I taught her to count to 100. Of course, she was the brave one. She would go right up to kids and ask them if we could play too. Naturally, we fought, and sometimes I thought our neighbor, Jennifer Spaulding, was more fun than boring old Lisa. It was like those then my mother would always say, “Friends will come and go, when I’m gone Lisa will be there. Always take care of each other.” Quinn and Phoebe bicker much, much more than Lisa and I did, but I’m hoping they’ll muddle through it.
(going to bed)

(Vivian chases Bruno)

(Bruno charging through the snow)

    Getting them home started with loading up the laundry and putting the geese away and ended with digging out my car and getting my new chains on. Eventually, we rolled along, Phoebe and Henry watching Jack Benny in the backseat.

    Lisa’s was a dream. Henry and I each began our treatments differently. I sipped on hot tea as Lisa baked cookies. Henry took a towel and spent some time in the Jacuzzi and sauna before his shower. Lisa helped me start the laundry. I followed Henry’s path and donned clean clothes at the end. After dinner and “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” (my father’s favorite Christmas special) when I finally had everything folded we loaded up the car. Getting the car out required, Chris, driving, Lisa digging, Phoebe shoveling and me adjusting the chains. It took us almost two hours just to get me out of their steep driveway. I thought of staying the night, but I had the animals, the house to clean and Christmas was just days away. There was so much to do at home.

    “I’ll call you when I get home.” I said as I watched them start digging Lisa’s car out so she could get to work in the morning. Slowly I crawled home listening to some radio call in show “Neighbor to Neighbor and Driver to Driver” about how snowed in everyone is. Ex-Ohioans were giving tips on how it’s done in the real cold. Washingtonians were mentioning with the steep hills doing some of what the “experts” said wasn’t so easy. Henry slept in the backseat.

    I pulled over three times to check my chains. Once at an Arco where I had a man help me tighten them one more notch. Once as I started on Mt. Baker Hwy and finally just as I turned on to Mosquito Lake Road. I drove at a snail’s pace as the radio show turned to static in the Welcome Valley. I eventually punched the button and started singing Christmas songs. We were going slow but steady in the toasty car. We wound around the ominous “S” turn and went carefully over the one lane bridge. We were only two miles from home as we came to the last real obstacle. The one I’d been nervous about the incline. This is where the road ascends a couple hundred feet. I shifted down to and tried the hill. We got about half way up and began sliding backward. I turned the car gently and guiding it backward down the hill a ways and shifted down into the lowest gear. I tried again and got a little farther. I tried again and the car began to slip making strange grinding noises almost all the dashboard lights lit up. The brake light, the ABS light everything. Startled, I sat in the car thinking as giant fluffy flakes fell. I had to weigh my options. If I tried again and again, more than likely I wasn’t going to make it the snow was almost six inches thicker than when I left. If I tried and failed, the car could slip backward and go over the edge. The drop off is severe. Not wanting to risk it, I backed the car down the hill closer to the one lane bridge until I came to the road sign warning drivers a stop is coming up. I tucked the van under the sign hoping to make us as visible as possible. It was on the wrong side of the road, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near the edge if someone came down the hill and lost control. On this side of the road we wouldn’t be in the line of a skid.
    My mind raced thinking of all the possibilities. Should we get out and walk? We’re only two miles from home. I thought of Henry sleeping in the back seat. His boots were so wet I made him put plastic bags around his feet before we left. He was so tired and the snow falling so hard and I was wearing blue suede boots without any tread. I looked in the car for a flashlight; I had one in my emergency kit. Turning it on, I couldn’t believe how puny the beam looked. We couldn’t walk Henry would never make it and I wasn’t leaving him here alone.

    “Henry, Henry, Henry! Wake-up Honey. Henry I’ve got to talk to you.”

    “What? What? What! Mama, I’m so tired”

    “Henry, I’ve got to talk to you. You don’t know where we are.”

    “We’re at Lisa and Chris'’”

    “Um, no we’re not. We’re on Mosquito Lake Road and we’re stuck. We’re going to spend the night here, Boo.” I didn’t want him waking up in the middle of the night and freaking out.

    “What?!! We’re going to spend the night in the car, Mama?”

    “It’s OK, Honey.” I cooed. “We’ll be fine. The car is nice and warm. We have all our laundry from Lisa’s, so we have lots of things to keep warm. Lisa gave me water before we left so we really don’t have anything to worry about. We’re safe in here until someone finds us.”

    “What if something scratches at the window?” Henry sounded panicky.

    “Henry, people go on safari in vans – we’d be fine even if Karen, the cougar, paid us a call. Who knows we might even see something amazing out here alone.” With the car still running and the lights still on, I opened the side door to the van. The snow came all the way up to the floor. I told Henry to lean out and pee. You don’t have to tell a boy to do this twice. I went outside and did the same.

    I reclined the backseats and tried to get Henry comfortable for the night. He was wearing snow pants, but only a t-shirt so I had him put on a couple more layers out of the laundry bag. He put on my old red elf hat he’s taken to wearing and without another word snuggled down under the comforter like a little hamster burrowing in. I was alone again. The heater still blasting I sat next to Henry watching the snow. I leaned forward and turned off the car. I’d filled up in town when I adjusted the chains, so I had plenty of gas, but I didn’t want to waste it. It was dark. As my eyes adjusted I could see just a faint hint of light outside the car as the snow began covering the windows. It got cold in the car quickly. I knew it wasn’t crazy cold because it was snowing, but the comforter wasn’t going to be enough to be comfortable.  I was wearing my jacket, but Henry’s was still wet from sledding. Robinson Crusoe popped into my head, as did every survival tip I’d ever heard. “Be careful of snow covering your tail pipe and carbon monoxide filling the car.” “Keep the windows open a crack.” Robinson’s secret to survival was gathering all possible supplies before he needed them, so taking a page from the book I started to do the same. Crawling into the trunk area I started digging around. I found flares and threw them in the backseat. It didn’t seem they’d too be useful as no one could see them. I kept digging. I found an old pair of Tom’s water shoes. They might be useful if I had to walk in the morning. I could put them over my boots. I threw them in the back seat. I got Henry’s Toblerone™ bar I’d bought him for Christmas. We could share it in the morning. I tossed things around uncovering Jumper cables, rope, and the emergency thermal blanket. I opened the blanket and put it over Henry under the comforter. “Keep the baby warm, keep the baby warm” went through my head like some deep maternal mantra. I thought of the little girl who’d died in Seattle a couple of weeks ago sleeping in a car with her parents. I snuggled in next to Henry.

    In the quiet, I prayed. “Dear God, thank you for keeping us safe and warm. Please take care of us through the night. Please let Lisa hear me.” I sat nervously looking around me. The bears would be hibernating by now. Cougars wouldn’t be out in a night like this. Truly I was more worried about bad guys than animals. I’d read “In Cold Blood” for book club. Suddenly a loud crash on the top of the car, like a nervous cat I jumped out of my seat as I realized it was a tree dumping snow on the car.

    “Lisa, can you hear me? I need you. Find us.” I knew she’d be panicky by now. She wouldn’t go to bed and forget about me. I’d told her I’d call and I knew she’d worry. We’d been through enough crises. She wouldn’t dismiss this. We’d heard a news story last year about a woman who was missing for a week. Her husband finally got Verizon™ to access her phone and locate her via satellite. Lisa had said, “I’ll tell you what, if you were missing it wouldn’t have taken me a week.” I knew too she and Chris couldn’t make it out here. Not on this road. She’d call Tom and he might call Alexis. I waited hoping for headlights to come around the corner and find us. As I looked out into the dark, I realized I didn’t have my camera if we did see something amazing. Which meant, we’d probably see sasquatch. Maybe he’d help us like dolphins do divers. Why do I always think a sasquatch is male, I wondered.

    I turned on the engine every hour for a couple of minutes heating up the car. About 1:00AM I gave up hope of rescue. The next thing I knew, I heard banging and scratching at the window. I looked up and saw a black object in the window. Frightened out of sleep I sat still thinking this is what Henry was afraid of.

    “Dee! DEE! Are you in there?” It was Wayne! Lisa had heard me. I knew she would.

    Prince Charming had arrived. “Wayne! Wayne! We’re here!” I unlocked the doors.

    “Lisa called. She had the highway patrol looking for you. When they didn’t find you on the main road, she had me come looking for you. I’m so glad you guys are all right. I was so scared.” He explained hugging me.

    “Wayne. I was afraid something would scratch at the door, I never thought it would be you.” Henry exclaimed. “Mama? Can we go home now?”

    “Yeah, We’re going home Buddy.” Wayne said with a smile.
(digging out the next day)

(Wayne shoveling us out)

November 9th Nothing Beats A Full House

(Little Sam Horner, 5, and Irish)

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

    “Are you ok?” Lisa asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   "Ever?"

   "Ever," Chris repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “That’s right,” Sam said.

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

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

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

   “Why?” Henry asked.

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

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

   “Really!?”

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

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

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

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

October 29th Pet Semetary

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

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

(Only the demented Donaldsons would have a pet cemetery)

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

October 28th Brown Chicken - Brown Cow

   

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

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

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

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

    “Hey, uh, this is Wayne.  (Wayne)

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

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

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

.

    “What was that?” Tom asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Anna ready for a late night snack)

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

August 15th Rolling On De River

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

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

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

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

(Henry and Sam go head first)

(Quinn trying out the boy's method)

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

(Tired but happy Sam)

(Packing in the Pheeb)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boundary Bay - 2008

June 13th A Good Time

   (Henry's teacher's gift)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Henry on Oz)

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

May 7th Stuart Little

   

    As you know, I live way out in the country where we expect to find all kinds of varmints. We’ve had toads in the mud, bunnies hopping in the garden, lots of deer prancing in the pasture, at least one beaver swimming in the pond, several coyotes hunting near the stream, a family of raccoons eating apples in the trees, countless mosquito-eating bats in the rafters, a shrew in the compost pile and a couple of packrats in the barn. Don’t let the rat part throw you they’re actually quite adorable. They’re the ones in cartoons that steal - or as I prefer borrow - all the shiny things they can find like bolts and keys and tin foil.

    What we haven’t had are mice in our car. But my city-dwelling little sister has. I don’t know what got him so going but I guess Chris was suspicious, as he’d heard noises or saw droppings or both so he devised the “cracker test”. He put one cracker in each car closed the doors and in the morning both crackers were unmistakably nibbled. Lisa called to see if Emmett, the assassin was available. I laughed and really didn’t take the thing too seriously. So a mouse climbs in the car, how long is it really going to stay? Yesterday, though when we were talking on the phone, she was sitting in her car watching the kid’s soccer practice. Suddenly, her voice got low and secretive. She spoke into the phone as if someone else was listening. She stopped talking every once in a while as though trying to detect an intruder on a dark and lonely night. She reported hearing scratching noises. The whole thing sounded creepy. She lives off Chuckanut, which is kind of a fancy-shmancy neighborhood.

    Today Lisa called me shrieking and screaming from her car. I thought something terrible had happened. She said it did, she saw a mouse run across the front of her car near the windshield wiper while she was driving and bless her little heart she stopped and had the presence of mind to take a picture. She’s a cool cucumber that one. Lisa is definitely who you want around in an emergency. Apparently she has an entire nest of mice living in her car. Diane says there are droppings. Lisa wanted to see if Bellingham had a drive-thru exterminator. Diane’s ready to get a hose to force 'em out and shoot ‘em as they run for cover. She's sure she can get 'em all in one go. She’s from the South, I’m not sure if her maiden name is Hatfield or McCoy.

(taken from the outside of the car - you can see her windshield wiper - almost dead center of the picture is the little fella's head peeking out.)

    This mouse in the car thing is a phenomenon I’ve never heard of before, but after Lisa did a bit of investigating it seems it’s not that uncommon. This just wouldn’t happen in Southern California because the un-Godly heat would prevent any sort of life form from ever living in a car. You can barely get in a car without burning your legs on the leather. But as locals know, Beverly Hills –90210- was absolutely infested with rats for years.

    City folk. I guess out here in the country, we bumpkins believe in keeping them critters outside where they can roam free. We don’t chauffer ‘em around or put little clothes on ‘em.

April 28th The Long & The Short Of It

(Phoebe just before entering the salon)

    This weekend we all gathered at Elysium in Fairhaven to witness
a big event in our little Pheeb’s life. Lisa came with her coffee in hand and Chris, armed with his video camera, ready to document the event – (in case Phoebe changed her mind and allowed him to make it into a documentary). Today was

{Chris, Lynda and Phoebe)

a moment we’ll all remember, Phoebe was fulfilling a promise she made to herself over a year ago. You see, Phoebe vowed to grow her hair out long enough to donate it to Locks of Love, an organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children who have lost their hair due to a medical condition.

    This is not a blip in Phoebe’s personality, rather it defines who she is. Oh, she can stretch the truth, she'll take the last sip of Quinn's drink and she’s horribly stubborn, but Phoebe has a heart the size of the Grand Canyon. When my dog, Gladys, had to be put to sleep, it was four-year-old Phoebe who wanted to go and pet her until the end, because she didn't want Gladys to be scared. When Lisa delivers puppies, Phoebe is the one who wants to “catch” them and help them warm up and breathe. Quinn and Henry, like many people, hide under pillows at the thought of pain or the sight of blood, but Phoebe is one of those who can deal with the hard situations and give of herself thinking only of the other person, puppy, dog, rabbit, hamster, opossum or squirrel.

     I wasn’t sure she’d really go through with it. I always wanted long hair when I was her age. I had long hair but not Swiss Miss™ long hair, not Phoebe long hair or in the case of my childhood not Kathy Obradavich or Tracy Felger long hair. To tell you the truth, I was more reluctant for her to cut it than she was. But I think the whole process was made easier for all of us because Lynda cut her hair. Lynda is a friend of the family so she understood why Phoebe had such an audience documenting this occasion. Especially since her own daughter Erika donated her hair to Locks a couple of years ago. Lynda, a very experienced mom, was complete in her knowledge that sparkles will lift almost any girl's spirits and was quick with the glitter spray to head off any feelings of regret.

    I suppose she was a bit sick of all the snags on zippers, snarls after swimming and tangled mornings when she didn’t braid it. I guess Phoebe was ready for the freedom of being able to care for her hair on her own. Independence.

   (Lisa messing around with Phoebe's donation)

I’m sure in the next weeks there will be a little sense of loss. After all it’s a part of her she unselfishly gave away. In fact, she says she’s going to do it again because it takes several donations to make one hairpiece.

    Faith, Hope and Charity, but the greatest of these is Charity.

April 25th Coincidence?

                    (Alfred)

    Today was Lisa and Chris’s 16th wedding anniversary. And every year something bad happens. I kid you not. And don't mean I-spilled-my-coffee-bad, which admittedly can be more than a little traumatic, but really bad. So for the last couple of weeks we’ve been bracing ourselves for Black Thursday. We all felt with the passing of Griffin, perhaps it would be quiet this year. Not so. Tom called about 10:30 AM to tell me he’d been the middle car in a three-car accident. He’s OK, but his car isn’t.

    Unfortunately, he couldn’t get into a doctor today, but he will tomorrow - I hope.

    He’s sore, irritable,completely exhausted and annoyed. I don't know whether it's from the accident or from arranging to have the car towed from West LA to Ventura, or all the running around getting  a rental car, dealing with insurance, calling into work and fielding calls from me. Probably a combination.

    When you factor in he had a Civic™ hybrid with one of L.A.s coveted green tags for commuting - you can't get them anymore - and he's about to lose his with the replacement of his back bumper. I take it as a sign he's leaving.

    With the curse handled for another year. I felt it safe to operate large farm equipment.

    Dan Cramer brought the round bales by around 11:30AM dumped them and ran. He was late for something. I stood there looking at these mounds and thought of the Yellow Umbrella art that dotted the landscape in central California years ago. Now I had to move these by myself. I got the tractor out and set to work. Flipping them, sliding them and rolling them into place I moved steadily with the tractor. Irish my faithful companion took refuge from the single ray of sunshine that fought its way through the clouds. All in all the job wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d first thought. I’m getting pretty efficient with that thing if I do say so myself.

    Afterward, I gave the goslings a bath, t and fixed up a carrier for them to ride to the vet. Meanwhile the appliance guy came and took away about four refrigerators, a freezer and a couple of stoves, an old computer and two dishwashers. The farm equipment remains dotting the property, Somehow it’s not as bad to have a vintage tractor lying around. There just isn’t any panache in a 1970 Amana™. The bill for the removal was astronomical so much to my chagrin I told him to leave the trash. I called for a roll-off. I’ll load it myself for those prices.

    Alfred, Cleveland, Quackmire and I headed off to the vet’s office. We drove along the 9 to Lynden. The town depicted in the movie “Footloose”. They have more churches per capita than any other town in America. You’re not allowed to mow your lawn on Sundays. But it’s very quaint. You see a lot of signs that say, “If you ain’t Dutch you ain’t Much.”

    Along the way we passed places like Udder End Manure. And big beautiful barns. When we arrived everyone wanted to see the goslings, but of course they thought they were ducks. I let it go.

    The doctor examined Alfred and compared him to the other two, did a parasite test which was negative. She believes, Alfred is calcium deficient so she prescribed some liquid calcium to given 2X daily. And she wanted me to get crushed oyster shells for all of the goslings to nibble on.

    I was so sleepy in the office I fell asleep waiting for the parasite test to come back. So when I spied “Coffee Girls” drive-thru I pulled up and ordered a triple shot non-fat latte. The girl working was very pleasant and efficient. When she handed me my drink asking me if I wanted a straw she saw the goslings.

    “Oh, I wondered where that noise was coming from. They’re sooooo cute.”

    We discussed Alfred’s calcium deficiency and his prognosis. He should be much better and be flop, flop, flopping around in less than a week according to the doctor.

    Just after I pulled away from "Coffee Girls", my phone rang. It was Henry. He and Mike were at the feed store on an emergency oyster shell run.

    “Mama?”

    “What is it Henry?”

    “There’s this bunny.”

    “NO!”

    “Mama, he’s really cute and he’s so sweet and we could keep him in the black container the goslings used to be in and I want him and I think he needs me.”

    “NO!”

    “Mama, I will take care of him and love him.”

    “Henry we already have 25 animals for you to love. Where exactly did you plan on keeping him?”

    “In my room.”

    “Forever? The bunny is sentenced to your room forever? That isn’t how bunnies want to live. And do you remember our last bunny? She bit everyone. And if you also remember you didn’t think she really ever played with you she was scared all the time.”

    “Mom!”

    “NO.”

    “Will you at least think about it?”

    “Sure, I’ll think about how many more times I’m going to have to say no.”

    “Mom, you’re mean.”

    “You forgot rotten. I'm mean and rotten. I’ll see you at home. I hope the talent show rehearsal went well.”

    “No. It didn’t.” Click.

    When I got the goslings back in their cage and finished my coffee, I heard the dogs barking wildly. I peered out the window to see an enormous bulldozer in my driveway. I grabbed my jacket and went outside. A very nice man that worked at the quarry on the other side of the one-lane bridge was having problems with the gasoline in his truck. He didn’t seem to have enough gas because of the incline. His gas had slid backward and wasn’t giving the engine enough. Now he needed something he could make a siphon out of. Being neighborly, we cut up a part of an old hose with Henry’s new pocketknife we found in the shop.

    I always see the mound of rock and have been curious so I asked about it. He told me the rock is a high temperature rock they make a high quality cement out of it. It's often used to pour the forms for cars, because it doesn't fluctuate. I asked if I could buy some of the rock, I need more for the areas the tractor drives on. I wondered if I could buy a pick-up load. He said he’d be happy to ask his boss and went on his way in his sporty yellow bulldozer.

    As I was coming in the house from doing the nightly barn ritual, I heard a semi with a rock carrier on the back coming up the road. As it wound passed our house, it blasted its horn three times. I waved. That must be good luck.   

April 8th Love Never Ends

    Sunday Lisa and Chris brought Griffin and Winifred out to visit since Quinn and Phoebe are spending a few days out here at the farm. We fed the goats, gave Miracle treats, grained the cows and took a walk to the pond while we sipped on hot tea watching Griffin and the rest of the dogs run around like well, dogs on a farm. Sniffing, marking, rolling in unknown disgusting smells, they played tag with the Canada Geese. There was a lot of wagging and panting. It was a great last day.

    

I n the morning Griffin had trouble breathing so Lisa took him to the hospital where she’s been working. As he was being brought in he slipped into unconsciousness and passed away.

   

It’s hard to say good-bye

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March 15th And On His Farm He Had A. . .

    This morning, Tom and I got up made a thermos® of coffee and warmed up the car. I already had Henry’s gymnastics bag in the car so all we had left was to gather the sleeping boy. Naturally, it’s still dark. It’s always dark in the morning until way past reasonable so I put Henry’s comforter and pillow in the way back seat and told him to go back to sleep until it got light. We were on our way to the gymnastics State Championships in Bellvue a suburb of Seattle. Team Donaldson would be meeting us there. They come from a different direction and they didn’t have to be there for the more than hour of warm-up stuff.

    No one is surprised they missed the first event, but Lisa did have a good reason, Griffin. She had to take care of him since he’s had his first chemo treatment. It’s not like she could just leave him without making sure he was properly taken care of.

    Henry did ok at the meet, surprising everyone with the best vault of his life. He received a 9.5 and took second in state. He has now qualified to go on to the regional competition: Idaho, Washington, Oregon and Alaska, in April.

    To celebrate, and we’re always looking for a reason to celebrate we decided to go to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch. The wait was what you might expect, making us a little anxious. We hadn’t thought lunch would be a three-hour ordeal but once we were finally seated we just gave into it and enjoyed ourselves.

   

    Quinn was the afternoon’s entertainment. She drove Henry crazy with sporadic animal noises in his ear. Henry kept asking someone anyone to make her stop. She’d look bewildered and ask what he was talking about. I was seated directly across the table from them and found it quite entertaining.

   

    “Moo”

   

    “Cut it out! Didn’t you hear her?

   

    “Oink, oink, oink”

   

    “C’mon you must have heard that. Stop it Quinn.”

   

After some time, Tom turned to Lisa and said, “I don’t know, but I think she’s got ‘barnyard terets” as if on cue, Quinn suddenly bleated in Henry’s ear.

   

    “Did you see? Did you hear her? She won’t quit it. She’s driving me bonkers.” We just laughed.

    After lunch, Phoebe decided to come home with us and spend the night. She hadn’t had any snow or farm for a while and needed to see Miracle and the goats.

    Miracle’s funny when it comes to the kids. When she first arrived she was all lovey-dovey with them and then, she changed her attitude. No one really knows why. I’ve tried to make them be the ones to give her treats, but she still is extremely standoffish going in a corner and turning her back. Not a situation where you want to start convincing her of anything. She snuggles me and practically kisses Tom, but when it comes to the kids she really gets a little kooky. But we're working on it.

March 5th Signs

    Henry and I rushed to get in the car this morning headed for school, carrying our morning essentials: milk, oatmeal and coffee, just like any other day. Alas this was not to be like any other day. Instead, we were attacked. Suddenly, and without warning robins ambushed our car like Kamikaze pilots they flew at us without fear from all directions. It wasn’t until the very last moment they veered away in some game of – dare I say- chicken? I was completely unprepared. They were everywhere as we went down one long stretch of road. Thoughts of Tippi Hedren crept into my head. Then in a more rational moment I decided to settle down, I would ignore them and just keep going. They’re birds they’ll get out of the way for Heaven’s sake. No. No they didn’t. The car in front of us hit one and we watched as it bounced off. Not a great start to the morning watching the symbol of spring killed in front of you.

    Years ago, Chris and I were driving along Mulholland Highway in the very early morning and a crow hit my windshield. It was not a good sign of things to come. What does this mean?  Is this the end or the beginning of spring?

When I got home and started doing things around the house I counted twenty-seven robins a-bob-bob-bobbin-along. They looked so harmless. There was not a hint of the malevolent treachery they were capable of earlier. I walked outside and most took refuge in my apple trees above the pasture. They sang to me while I sipped my coffee from the porch. Then I heard a toad chime in. The toads are back. Spring has sprung.

(suspected felon in apple tree)

January 14th Bainbridge Island

This weekend we all, Lisa, Chris, Quinn, Phoebe, Mike, Henry and me went to Bainbridge Island for Henry’s gymnastics meet. We decided to go on Saturday take the ferry over and spend the night because the meet was first thing Sunday morning. The drive to Seattle was nothing special. Henry watched “Star Trek” episode after “Star Trek” episode. Including the one where Kirk battles the giant reptile thing, alligator Gorgon guy. I don’t know, I’m not an official Trekkie by any means.
    The excitement began when we boarded the ferry. I’d never driven onto a ferry before. It felt so East Coast. We left our car and went up to the snack bar, Mike and I got a cup of tea and Henry got a stale pretzel with processed cheese. He was disappointed with the food, but we all enjoyed the view. As we began to cross the sun was setting majestically over the Seattle skyline. It was stunning.
    The Donaldsons got a later start than us and therefore missed the ferry and had to wait for the next one. Once on the island we found our motel and started looking for a place to have dinner. We dined at the “oldest” restaurant on the island. We were expecting something like 1800 or something; instead we saw that it was established in 1982. Hmm. We tried to go to a movie, but the show times were wrong, so we went back to the motel and played cards. I didn’t want Henry to stay up too late, so we all went to bed around 9:30PM. Mike despite his denials went straight to sleep. How might I know this you ask? His room sandwiched between ours, Lisa and I could both hear snoring through the walls. Henry couldn’t sleep he was giggling so much. He kept saying we had to buy Mike a pack of BreatheRight™ strips for his birthday. Finally, I had to wake Mike up so Henry could go to sleep. I felt bad, but Mike could read for a while and go back to sawing logs a short time later.
    The next day, when we arrived at the competition we were all pleased to see a Latte truck in the parking lot. This was a high-class operation. We cheered, calling Tom before, during and after each event. Henry did well, getting a 9.1 on the rings and coming in second all around. The highest he’s ever placed in all around.
    Afterward, we decided to walk around Bainbridge window-shopping. Quinn, now suddenly a reader needed a book. And the rest of us enjoyed looking around. We went in to one shop where everyone found something they liked and had to have. I restrained purchasing the red chinoise china buffet I salivated over. Henry found a beautiful chess set that was unbelievably cheap. I wasn’t going to buy it, I didn’t want to spend any money, but I could hear Tom and what he’d have said in the back of my head. I knew without question he’d have bought it in a second. It was ornate, unique and quite lovely, the price was right and so to honor Tom’s wishes because he couldn’t be here and to make Henry happy I bought it.  We’d have something to tangible to always remember his second place finish. Chris kept saying we were “burning daylight” he had something he had to work on and needed to get back. So we headed home.
    Very, very early this morning Lisa called and told me to check my email. Begrudgingly, I did it as I barely had my first sip of coffee and was trying to manage opening my eyes in the darkness. There was a link:

I clicked on it and tears started streaming down my face. Cranky Chris had stayed up late and made a video of Henry at Bainbridge. It was so sweet I couldn’t believe it. No wonder Lisa married him. I emailed the link to everyone I knew before I took my next sip. Then I called Tom and woke up Henry.
    Henry called Chris and excitedly told him “Chris, You Rock!”

January 1st Go Speed Racer

    I’ve never liked New Year’s Day. Growing up, it just meant endless the endless drowning of football games, crowded malls and not much else. Everyone seemed to always be busy, but nothing really fun happened, until today. Today was great. We watched the Rose Parade, which felt a little odd, because last year Henry went down and saw the floats.  My mom’s friend, Marie lives on the parade route and we’ve gone many times in the past. This year we were watching it on TV. You can’t really see the details of the flowers that really make this parade so amazing, but we were realizing why everyone moves to Southern California. It must look irresistible to so many people as they’re sitting on their sofas in their homes snowed in with cloudy skies. I bet California could solve their immigration problem by stopping just that broadcast.

    The kids took the sleds and trudged outside. Lisa and I joined them and up and down the hill we went all afternoon. It was an icy cold blast of fun. The dogs raced up and down the hill beside us trying to save us from the sleds. Vivian tried to bite the sled and had to be put away, before she became hysterical. There were more of us than there were sleds so the kids just started rolling down the hill freestyle.

    Lisa, Phoebe and I decided to take a walk to the pond while Henry and Quinn thought they’d try sledding in a different part of the property. Our walk was serene. We sat on the dock marveling at how much ice actually covered the water .

 

I don’t know how long we were there, but on the way back we could hear Quinn screaming. “Henry needs you! Henry needs you! Henry crashed!” We were confused because after all Chris and Tom were there, why would they need us?

    Phoebe said it best. “They’re daddies, he probably needs a mommy.” She was right.

   

Chris bet him five bucks to go down the hill on the sled like a snow border. Brilliant. Henry, the bonehead, tried it and landed full speed face first in the ice. Now, weeping, as Tom less than tenderly treated the road rash that covered most of his face, he stood there stretching out his arms for a hug. You leave for a minute.

(One of the daddy's took this picture)

October 31st Scary Business

    Today I met with Kevin Houlp, a Small Business Advisor; Patty, a banker, referred me to. I met Patty because of Nina, a woman with a great coat in a coffee place. Nina is new in town too and she thought the history camp sounded wonderful and told me she’s part of a group that helps each other get a head in their business. It’s not a formal group, but nonetheless she sent me to Patty. Patty was very hopeful and listened attentively. I felt as if she truly wanted to help us, but unfortunately she is now just another banker that turned me down for a loan. Patty has the distinction of being the first woman to turn me down. She like many of the other bankers told me not to give up. She told me she was not only a banker but a mom with kids in Bellingham schools and that she did not want me to give up because she wanted her kids to be able to go to a history camp or at least go to my facility on a field trip, but her boss didn’t “get it”.  So she gave me several people to call and Kevin is one of them.

    The meeting was scary. Kevin was great, but brutal. He told me I was never going to get a loan as a history camp. He told me banks would not understand the business model. He told me I’d have to find some investors that believed in education to get behind me or it wouldn’t happen. Wow. Depressing. I have to think this through. He told me to consider becoming something else and evolving into the camp, like a bed & breakfast or a farm retreat. Hmm. I don’t know. This requires a great deal of thought.

     After my dismal-hope-dashing-meeting, the idea of picking up Henry and going trick or treating was not high on my list. But as every mother knows, mothering is not always about what you want. It’s Halloween today not tomorrow and I had to just get over myself. I went to “I Wanamoka” and got a grande drip. I figured I’d have plenty of time to think about what Kevin said tomorrow. I took a big gulp and swung by the school picked Henry up from school and sipped my coffee while I helped him change into the Jack Sparrow costume we put together with belts from ladies discount department stores etc. Henry has decided  he should walk around simulating a drunken stupor to enhance his costume.

We’re a family that takes Halloween very seriously. Things are a lacking this year due to trying to start the business and fix the house, but under normal circumstances we have a full graveyard etc. Over the years, Henry has gone as Abe Lincoln complete with beard, Hankenstein,Tutankhamen and Harpo Marx. One year when he was little we made a papier mache Humpty Dumpty egg. Just as he was going to wear it he became frightened of getting in his costume - To our shame he went as the Blue Power Ranger.

    We usually have silhouette of a larger than life witch on top of our house etc. Lisa too sews costumes like Cruella Deville. Therefore, I was feeling like quite the party pooper when I spied Chris doing his Thomas Jefferson imitation on the corner of Harris and 14th Streets while I was dressed in meeting-type clothes.

We went trick or treating in Fairhaven with Lisa, Chris & Phoebe –Quinn met up with us, but she is in middle school now which means she needed some not with the “little kids” time.      

    Fairhaven is a quaint historic section of Bellingham where the businesses give out treats and everyone walks around with either a bag of candy or a coffee depending on your age.

    We did the business district and while the costumed ones were in line to have their picture taken at the pharmacy, Quinn dressed as a pumpkin (again) joined us.

    We all went to dinner and then out into an adorable little neighborhood overlooking the bay. The houses were all decked out. The leaves were falling the jack-o-lanterns were aglow. It looked the art department came in and dressed it for an early  Jaimie Lee Curtis flick. Quinn said "It looks like this in the movies with kids laughing just before someone gets butchered." She’s right. Lisa and I used to rent a house on Orange Grove just off Sunset Blvd in Hollywood, and we lived right across the street from THE HALLOWEEN house of movie fame.

   

(Trevor as Groucho &Henry as Harpo)

For the most part we all had a great time. The kids had a tremendous haul and the adults enjoyed walking up and down the streets knocking on doors and peeking inside people’s houses to see how they’ve decorated. Love it.

    One word of caution, never answer the door and ask a small child “And what are you supposed to be honey?” This was what Phoebe, the witch, was asked over and over, because she lost her pointed hat at dinner. Not a happy question for a child. There were tears.

October 20th An Evening Out

    Tonight was the Humane Society’s Masquerade Gala. Lisa, Chris and I went so we could begin to participate in our new community. And it sounded like fun. We all dressed up in our period clothing. I spent some time during the day in Lisa's sauna in hopes the swelling in my face would go down and I would be presentable. I looked human so I dressed in  my new Civil War gown - unfortunately I'd completely forgotten the woman had told me that it needed to be slightly altered and so she had it only pinned together in places. Lisa and Quinn pinned me in, I put a thin layer of Preparation H™ under my make up and voila.   Lisa and Chris dressed colonial for the evening's event.  I don't know what was going on with Chris' wig. It looked a little disheveled as if the good sir had a bit too much ale at some tavern along the way. Lisa was happy cloaks were part of a lady's ensemble because it was frosty out.

    We arrived and to our disappointment, there weren’t too many people in costume.  No matter, we're hams. We walked around looking at the silent auctions and put in our bids. I won a car detailing. Lisa and Chris thought considering the state of my car, I got it for an amazing price. I almost got the “Queen for a day”, this is when a staff comes to your house and while they clean your home and tend to your yard someone gives you a massage. Lisa almost wet herself laughing at the idea of these poor people arriving at my house. She’s got a real mean streak.

    After the auction we ate dinner. I suppose if I’d thought about it, but I didn’t I would have been able to guess that the humane society would serve a vegan meal. It was ok, a bit dry no reflection on the vegan aspect it just wasn't  great and there wasn't much of it. We sat at a table with a nice group people that included a veterinarian, Kris, who had just adopted a basset hound named George.  Some of Lisa and Chris’ neighbors were there, Rosina an author and her husband, the people Lisa and Chris bought their house from, Bob and Sheila who own a miniature donkey named Jacqueline.

    All in all it was a nice evening out. At the end, we introduced ourselves to Frank & Mary King. Their cats were the featured animals on the invitation and they are big supporters of the Humane Society as well as  great many other philanthropic things in Bellingham. I’m sure we were a sight  the three of us walking up in costume. Chris after all stands above the crowd you ad the tricorn hat and wacky wig he was something. Mr. King and Chris had gotten acquainted somehow earlier in the evening and so launched into some discussion while I told Mary King about life on the farm and our dreams of a history camp.  Mary said she’d like to bring her grandchildren out to the farm. It would be fabulous if someone so active in the community would be supportive. I’ll cross my fingers .

September 30th The Amazing Donaldson

    It’s Chris’s birthday tomorrow, but because Tom will be leaving in the morning we’re celebrating it tonight.
    I haven’t really described Chris in any real detail and I suppose this is as good a time as any.

    Before Chris joined our family, he grew up mostly in Santa Barbara. He went to Dunn School, graduated from UCSD and is an avid beach volleyball player and bike enthusiast. When Chris met Lisa he was living in a beer infested apartment in Venice with a surfboard as a countertop, a smelly couch and a couple of scraggly roommates. He and Lisa met on the set of a Daihatsu commercial shooting at 3:00AM. Chris was art department and Lisa was a production assistant at the time. I got her the job.

   

    The next day, Chris asked her out, but said he’d have to ditch his brother, Cameron, who was visiting. Lisa insisted the four of us go out. We all piled in his toilet of a Ford Fiesta™ and went to the movie “Chances Are”. After that, they dated for a couple of years, broke up a couple of times and finally tied the knot at Saint Monica’s with Cam and I by their side. No one’s sure, but we think Chris wore clean socks.
Their black tie wedding reception was on Santa Monica pier with tables set up around the carousel. My dad’s band played. Lisa was very pleased because she got a screaming bargain. The historic site was only $200.00 and she served wine she bought at Trader Joes™.

   

    Not too long after they got married, Lisa decided she was not satisfied with film work anymore. It would be too hard to raise a family, by this time she was second assistant camera, but felt she should go back to school. She considered nursing, but decided to realize her life long dream of becoming a veterinarian. (When we were little she wanted to be a bunny) Chris was completely supportive; he got one of his (formerly scraggly now respectable) roommates back again and kept their financial boat afloat. The amazing thing about Chris is his discipline. He can reinvent himself at any time. After their first daughter, Quinn was born he quit the film industry and moved to Colorado where Lisa was in vet school. He got a job and turned it into a career move. He purchased a Dip’n’Dots™ franchise, wrote a novel, went into advertising, started a company and got a patent on an Internet technology. He sold that property and worked on Toyota’s Intranet for a while.  He’s written several screenplays, and strangely, he even got Daniel Boone Day established in Kentucky. Etcetera.

   

    When Lisa was getting ready to walk down the aisle she turned to me and said, “You know you can marry more money in 15 minutes than you can make in a life time. It’s too late for me.” She later said she dreamed that one day she’d tell people she married Chris for his money and they wouldn’t think it was a joke. I think they’re close.

(Chris as Morticia - on left and Lisa as Gomez)

    Don’t get me wrong, Chris can be annoying, he loves to argue, he’s extremely direct, he’s becoming a neat-nick like his father, every Christmas he expects an Enquirer™ in his stocking and he still wears dirty socks. But he is funny, laughs easily and always wrestles with the kids under the name “MoJo-Cro-Cro”

    We all got together at a local restaurant called The Black Forest Steakhouse in Everson, to celebrate. I was anxious as I looked at the time. We were supposed to meet them promptly at 6:30PM. It was raining, big surprise, and we got behind a tractor going up the 9, As a result, we got there late. The real reason is we left late because Tom had to finish one last thing. I shouldn’t have worried, because true to form Lisa was even later.

    Henry was salivating from the moment we walked in the door. While Quinn, a recent vegetarian was grossed out completely by all the meat. Phoebe simply flipped to the deserts.

Chris opened the “very Chris shirt and sweater we’d gotten him”. “Very Chris” translates in to bright colors like and bold patterns like lime green daisies. Chris being tall, lean and dramatic in nature can pull these off. After the meal as is required at family birthdays, Grandpa Horn plays “Happy Birthday” on his cornet. This has been arranged with the server, she is to bring the birthday cheesecake when my dad pulls out his horn. Perhaps, this might be annoying in a restaurant, but my dad is good. He is many times offered a gig after this number.

    All in all as is usual, at these kinds of dinners, as sappy as it sounds, we laughed and enjoyed being together making Tom’s departure tomorrow even harder.

August 29th The City Mice

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

– Jack (the rescued Flame Point Himalayan),




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



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








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

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








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

August 8th More Cleaning

 Mike, Henry, Dean and I drove to Home Depot™ to reload our cleaning supplies. A forty mile drive round trip. When we got home, I decided the cleaner was too dangerous for Henry and Dean to handle, so I sent them off to the pond with the dogs to skip rocks. They went merrily.

    The Donaldsons, who still don’t have a house of their own, came again to “move this place forward”. Toby showed up to collect Dean and came prepared to make dinner while Chris painted. Lisa cut shelf paper (it’s always good to have a surgeon around) while Mike and I lay the shelf paper down. Cooking in this mess was a little disconcerting, but Toby is rarely ruffled and kept right on roasting vegetables. We hadn’t all been together since Halloween at my sister’s a year and a half ago.

    Everyone moaned about the mosquitoes.  

August 4th The Big Tidy Up

 Huzzah! All our containers have arrived. The unloading is another thing entirely.

    Team Donaldson came out for a workday. You’ve just got to love family. Chris changed into overalls and work boots he’d bought at Kmart™ and commenced to cleaning up the place. He worked like a field hand. He tore down the dilapidated chicken coop. (I’m afraid of chickens so I have no plans to get any.) Then he tossed out all the junk from the “loafing shed” He took out computers and fishing poles, old shovels and a ton of other random stuff. I call it a loafing shed, because that’s the way the real estate listing described.  Who or what is loafing there a mystery. I’ve searched the Internet and I can’t find a definition anywhere. All I know is that it is the three-sided barn down the hill, in the pasture.



    While Mr. Overalls was outside - all 6’4” of him, Lisa, Mike and I were inside shelf-papering the kitchen. We all agreed there was too much rat pee and greasy sludge in the shelves to ever get them clean enough. But we tried. With safety goggles, rubber gloves and surgical masks we scoured the inside of each cupboard with the grease-cutting-wonder Zep™ from Home Depot™. It was slow going as it must have been years since anyone had cleaned this kitchen. I could describe it in noxious detail but, until you’ve had a mixture of rat scat, pee and gunk of uncertain origin running down your gloved arm while you make that lip-curled-back-just-bit-into-a-lemon face, you really can’t know just how revolting it all was.




Pictures don't even reveal the truth. The shelves are deep and strangely shaped with odd bends and juts so you have to lean way in to get at all the accumulated crud. Of course each piece of shelf paper had to be custom cut. The cupboards were obviously salvaged from different places. When you opened a door you never knew what you would to find. Inside we found varmints, recipes for fruit salad, jars filled with ominous things that looked like the forgotten of one of Mr. Hyde’s evil projects, things that could only be analyzed by forensic labs and one beautiful shiny copper rabbit cookie cutter from Williams Sonoma - perfect for Easter.



    As the evening progressed, Chris came inside complaining of mosquitoes. The kids did not want to go outside either. So everyone came in. I thought we were all done for the day, but Chris whipped out a can of white paint and started attacking the mud-stained laundry room. He was then bent on getting the sofa bed into the family room as the “piece de resistance”. He worked a miracle. I can’t believe how much he did for me today. He said he thought it would help my outlook. It has.
   
    A month without furniture in a broken down dirty house, bankers saying, “NO,” Tom calling to see what I’d accomplished and my 63 itchy mosquito bites had been wearing on my mood. The cavalry had arrived and I am eternally grateful . 

July 28th Good News

 Good News, the first of our furniture arrived. Now how we just have to get it inside. Beds, comfy, soft beds are in our future! I hired some teenage boys to help us unload. One of the kid’s helping out is Chris Donaldson. As we already have one Chris Donaldson, we’re going to call this 6’3” 18-year-old “Little Chris Donaldson”. He works for the construction company and will be around a lot in the next few months. He seems like the salt of the earth type, a bull-rider, cowboy boots and all.

    Even better news, regular old Chris Donaldson and his writing partner Jim Roman won first place for their script "Fuel" in the Script Pipline Into Motion Pictures Competition. First Place! First Place out of 1,200 scripts. We couldn't be more thrilled.

Chris says - he had to leave Los Angeles to become a success in Hollywood.