(As much as I love our home, everything has been bleak)
Since Norton’s passing the joy just seemed to drain right out of the farm. His little piggy ways, his snort-snort here and snort-snort there haunted me.
Amber did pay for most of the costs incurred, and Helix was removed from the property that fateful night. Amber took him to her parents house where he started attacking their dogs the next day. Her father not wanting another tragedy wasn't taking any chances and took him back to the shelter where he was adopted from.
The shelter was informed of the events, and I have no idea what happened after that.
Amber and Marcus moved out as it just was too much with the other dogs. And they did not want to part with any of their dogs. I was nervous as there were two other pit bulls in the group. Probably nothing would have ever happened, but I just couldn't live with it. And to add insult to injury there were some barking issues. It isn't often my very far away neighbors complain, but complain they did.
Except perhaps for the blasted roosters, I really do adore all the animals but the tragedy of Norton’s death hung around like a dismal cloud and I just cloistered myself away.
Quinn summed it up over hot apple cider, “You know, yesterday, it felt like Christmas, but today it doesn’t anymore.” So without much fanfare and a lot of prayer Christmas came and went. The New Year brought, Annabelle the llama and non-stop work on the honey business. Preparing for trade shows, learning QuickBooks, and streamlining the jarring process all under the watchful eye and tutelage of Awesomez.
(A Charger cake for Awesomez on her birthday)
Of course, life goes on my dad came for his annual visit, although each year his visits get shorter and shorter. And as is almost predictable- in a chaotic sort of way, there were issues with almost all the animals. The dogs got into some of Vivian’s pain medication and all four had to go to the vet for blood panels and treatment as it could easily cause liver failure. The despair Henry and I felt heading to the vet with Luther, Vivian, Bruno and Irish so soon after the last tragedy was overwhelming. My sister managed to come to the rescue, again.
Christina developed a fairly dramatic limp on her front foot. I tried trimming her hoof, but it didn’t seem to help so we loaded her in the Odyssey and took a ride to see Dr. Amber Itle at Kulshan, who gave her a good once over. Deemed fit we took her home again – but the limp persists.
(Christina en route - picture by Awesomez)
Alexis, Henry and I practiced goat foot trimming. Every one of the goats and sheep needed delousing, de-worming and Annabelle the quiet natured llama, settled in slowly becoming one of Rachel’s herd. At first, both the sheep and goats thought she was some sort of monster sent to eat them, but she was patient and eventually won them over. Truly she’s a gentle creature but she does not like Midge. Not one little bit. In fact, she gives her the stink-eye and a wide berth.
(Annabelle)
(Everyone getting along)
(Annabelle and Midge - not the best of friends)
Midge was lonely and received – special house privileges. (note Irish, Midge and Bruno)
Alexis worked on better feeding methods, winter barn solutions, building blockades and fixing blockades. Abe and Andy felt were not to their liking.
Our new tenants moved in a very nice young couple. Kristi is a nursing student and a caretaker for an elderly woman. Stephanie wants to be a copywriter, but currently works with autistic children. They have moved in lock stock and barrel. Painting the entire place to make it their own. Short of a chicken massacre by Hal or Haley they're two black cats I don't anticipate any disasters.
(Rose and her newest friend - Midge)
The unexpected bright spot has been Kristi and Stephanie's niece, Rose, the precocious 3 year-old who reintroduced me to the magic of my own farm. Rose believes with her heart that all the animals love, love, love her. And she's sure this is what heaven must be like. I believe she's right.
(Rosie and her new friend Midge)
Rosie screeches with delight as Midge's nibbles at her toes. She tosses her head back when Irish tickles her with his nose. Rosie loves to go to the barn and help put the animals away. She thinks she's going to win Annabelle over with alfalfa pellets. And who am I to argue? Strangely she is terrified of only one animal. Rat-Bat. That's correct, Bruno the smallest one of them all.
(small but mighty?)
(Kristi and another frequent visitor - Rose's little brother Xavier James- or as Tom calls him - "The X-Man)
All four goats received nightly penicillin shots for potential foot rot. And in a miraculous turn of events just before we left for Natural Products Expo West Vivian was cleared of her cancer diagnosis.
Thrilled, I took it as a sign of change.
We went to The Fancy Food Show in San Francisco and got our feet wet in the specialty food industry. We got such positive response we were encouraged to keep growing so Henry and I flew out of Bellingham to Burbank on our way to the Natural Products Expo West. We were chauffeured from the airport by none other than the hostess-with-the-mostess, June “Spoon”. Unfortunately, we only saw her fleetingly as she and Rod had tickets to Clapton and well, after all they were tickets to Clapton. So they took their leave while Henry sank into the comfy sofa and I chatted on the phone admiring the unique doors throughout the house while Tom inched toward us on the 134.
(Tom -selling his heart out -Member Candidates - we had a table in the New Brands On The Shelf Pavillion - No one under 18 was allowed to attend The Fancy Food Show so Henry stayed home with Quinn, Phoebe, Lisa and Chris)
When Tom finally arrived we stuffed the Ridgeline with some of June’s folding tables she was lending us for the show, our backdrop and everything else we needed to create our Henry’s Stingers booth and headed down to Balboa Island. My mother’s friend, Marie, had generously offered to let us use her beach apartment on Balboa Island during the show.
The next few days were non-stop: Disneyland - because how in the world could we travel all the way to Anaheim with a 13 year-old tell him he was going to work from 8-6 and no we weren’t going to go to Disneyland? The tsunami warning from a reverse 911 call at 4:30AM, endless spicy honey samples, smiling until our faces hurt. Henry did interview after interview and performed like a champ. He talked to “Chef Jamie” on KFWB, Delicious Living, White Apricot and even Entrepreneur Magazine. And for the grand finale? Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey was named one of the top five new food products at the show. How lucky can we get?
(Delicious Living doing some video for being named one of the top 5 food products)
(Balbo Island- our view from Marie's beach apartment)
On Sunday, tired beyond imagination our truck packed we drove back to June’s for pizza and pampering. Henry sank into a giant bathtub while we discussed the last few days over garlic hummus and heard all about Clapton.
When we got home Alexis and all the dogs greeted us on the porch. I glanced around surveying all that was the farm when I noticed a duck amble by.
“Where’s Lance?” I asked. “There usually together.”
I could tell something was on Alexis’ mind when he began. “I didn’t want to call you in California. But a couple of days ago I saw this eagle down by the tree where big boys (Abe and Andy the Milking Devons) sleep. I thought it had a black squirrel in its talons, but when I put the barn away, only one duck came home. I went to where I’d seen the eagle and sure enough there were black feathers.”
“Oh, no! Now Angela is all alone.” Henry said. “Maybe we can put her in with Midge?” We all considered the idea and went in for the evening beginning the endless process of unpacking. Although it was another death, this was the circle of life. The eagle probably had a nest and needed food. We could live with that.
(Midge - always good for a laugh is making a pig out of herself - enjoying a pizza box)
Cutting down a Christmas tree on our property started out of sheer necessity, a lack of funds ruling the day. Over the last few years however it has become a cherished family tradition full of adventure. So much so Lisa, Chris and the girls thought this year they’d get their tree here too. It seemed like a good idea, have a day out in the country and save some money. Team Donaldson piled in the car and came out Santa hat and saw in tow.
Henry wasn't feeling well so he stayed behind while the rest of use walked around surveying trees. Up the hills and down the hills, around the pond and over the log we hiked looking up at trees. None seemed to do.
(Luther wasn't helping at all)
“I don't know. I always love the trees at your house they look so Martha Stewart. Why can’t we find one of those?” Quinn wondered as she scrutinized the cedars.
“Mine did look like these, it’s just that you don’t mind it looking goofy and unkempt at my house.” I said.
“How about that one?” Phoebe suggested from underneath her powder pink parka.
“Honey that one is bigger than my house,” I informed her.
“Yeah right! I could see us putting that on the top of the car!” Quinn laughed. “It’s taller than the barn!” Phoebe stomped off down the hill.
“What about this one?” Chris suggested pointing to a puny excuse for a tree.
“That’s not Martha Stewart that’s Charlie Brown,” Lisa responded dryly.
(Team Donaldson - Phoebe, Lisa, Chris and Quinn)
In the end, they found the perfect tree in the Lowes™ parking lot.
The trees on our land are not Christmas trees per se. They are a bit spindly and straggly. The cords for the lights and look a bit unseemly and the branches sometimes can't hold some of the he heavier ornaments. They look old fashioned and homemade. I guess perfect depends on your perspective.
When Henry felt better, we went out with Alexis and the dogs in search of our tree. We had wanted to get it when Tom was here, but we'd worked on the gingerbread competition until the last moments before Tom had to race to the airport. No matter, he likes whatever we pick. He’s easy like that.
(Frank's feathers are a compete wreck)
About a year’s worth of rain had fallen in the last few days so the pond, the pasture and all the streams are flooded. Undaunted and bundled up we headed out. Henry and Alexis both came armed saws. I think it’s a male thing. We meandered around looking at the pond and all that had washed away. Henry and Irish jumped endlessly over puddles and streams. And eventually we walked the same path I had with Team Donaldson
(A boy and his dog- Henry and Irish - timeless fun)
( now this is one dirty ass- Miracle)
(Irish is having a great time)
(water rushing everywhere)
(Pond extra full)
(Henry, Henry, Henry)
(Irish just doesn't bother)
(searching for the perfect tree)
(the stream rages)
(Alexi climbs the back gate)
I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder because before long we earmarked three or four serious contenders. True I have taller ceilings in some of my rooms, but this year we were going to try and put the tree at Alexis’ suggestion in the living room for more viewing pleasure and it works - thematically next to my Santa collection.
In short order we unanimously agreed on a tree and with out much fuss Henry sawed it down and we made our way back to the house over the hill and through the woods, the boys carrying the tree.
(Henry with his saw and the tree already on the ground to his right)
(Alexis heaves the tree)
(Luther bringing up the rear)
(this is usually a road you can drive on from one end of the pond -)
(Henry carries Luther where the water is too deep for a Basset)
(Luther appreciates the ride)
(If Luther isn't going to do it - Bruno - "Rat-bat ain't - no dumb dogs here)
(almost home - Henry and Alexis charge across the pasture)
(Norton and Vivian having a grand time)
The excursion seemed to go off without a hitch. It was so easy compared to the last three years. We didn't run the tractor in a ditch or have to run from the goats. We simply put the tree in the old mudroom to dry out. Nothing too dramatic.
I got out the lights and located the stand. Alexis went to work and Henry set upon writing his book. Ferreting through the garage I found the chandelier crystals I’d bought years ago with my Tom in a small antique store in Stillwater, Minnesota. We’d had a delicious lunch in the sun overlooking the St. Croix River. "Winter is cold for those with no warm memries" I murmured dusting off some of my other favorite glass ornaments and looking for hooks. What happens to the hooks? I am forever buying hooks. I could see the tree in my minds-eye. I love all the trappings, the stockings the baking the wrapping and even the shopping when I have the money.
On Monday, I decided I’d put the tree up and surprise everyone. Worrying it was way too tall for the pink room I decided to put it up in the game room and see how it looked before trying to work with it in the more crowded living room. Sawing off a teency bit of trunk I put the tree in the stand and tightened it up. Unceremoniously it toppled over onto the popcorn machine. One of the little rubber do-dads had come off and as a result had left a little wiggle room. I took the trunk round I’d just sawed off and used it as a wedge. A perfect fit. The tree stood straight and tall. Stepping over dogs and cats like minefields Feeling like the grinch trying to take a tree up a chimney, I shoved it past the dining room table, refrigerator, kitchen counter and through the hall the branches tipping all the picture frames along the way. Once I found just the right spot in the corner by the window, setting off the sofa nicely, I stood back and eyed the tree. Here in my pink room my one of a kind natural beauty Ralph Lauren tree seemed to beg for a bit of Christmas couture. A touch of Tiffanyesque dazzle might be a delightful contrast this year. I thought the chandelier crystals were going to be perfect. Mentally unpacking Christmas boxes I remembered I also have some black and white ornaments I rarely use that would play well. Thinking as I went to get a pitcher of sugar water to fill the stand that if I got the lights in place we could quite possibly decorate this evening.
My aunt Lana had been a light-nazi always sending my uncle Larry out to buy more, more, more lights. She was insatiable. My cousin Anne used to endlessly wrap christmas tree limbs for hours while Lana sat comfortably in a cozy chair with a book. Anne also wrapped my mother's tree on occasion and my mother loved watching in fascination. I smiled at the memory. Lana had been a hoot. I shook my head, enough with the ghosts of Christmas past. The idea of Apple cider with Bing Crosby and the Andrew Sisters singing “Jingle Bells” filled my thoughts. Until the needle on the LP in my head skidded off and Psycho Music blared. Tabitha was happily chasing her tail while Irish watched curiously.
My feet felt glued to the floor I watched my perfectly balanced tree withstand an inordinate amount of hijinks. I could see Chevy Chase and squirrels certain every ornament I owned would end up smashing to the ground. In fact, I was worried my Santa collection was now in mortal danger. Irish had already confused a couple of them with his play toys. What was I going to do? I'd never had a cat climb my Christmas tree before. I supposed she could learn not to if I kept a squirt bottle by the sofa.
(Irish watching Tabitha about half way up on the right - certain he's going to somehow be blamed for this - he watches Disney)
(Santa Claws)
Suddenly the tree toppled over and my decision was made. That darn cat would be locked up for the next month and the dog too if he didn’t behave. My dreams of Christmas were crumbling. My nerves were shot. I went to the kitchen poured myself a cup of coffee and called Tom. When I came back Tabitha had climbed the trunk again and she was leaping! Leaping from branch to branch. I was so mad I thought smoke was going to come out of my ears, frustrated and gnashing my teeth planning to deal with that kitten.
I sat down not knowing what to do next. Watching Tabitha melted my heart at the site of that silly kitty so happy, so grateful I’d brought a tree inside just for her. She apparently loves Christmas too. My mother's words filled my years. I could hear her telling me about mom's who spent too much money on buying toddlers expensive cakes and toys when all the kids really just wanted to shove cake in their mouths rip wrapping paper and play with the box the expensive toy came in. "You have to just “swing with it and remember what’s really important.” I could hear – "Calm down. It’s Christmas Denise – try to remember it’s about family and fun and love not interior design".
I packed up my crystals and visions of my “glitzy” tree put them back in their boxes for another time. ThenI began designing Tabitha’s perfect cat tree. What would it look like? Definitely it would have to be unbreakable with bows and...
Saturday morning sitting in the family room snuggled up on the squishy sofa Irish’s head heavy in my lap. I was sipping my morning Joe solving the world’s problems on the phone with Awesomez. Across from me Henry was wrapped in a blanket cuddling the other three dogs sleepily watching something Ace of Cakes when Alexis tromped in. Dressed for the cold he was clad in knee high rubber boots, jeans, a couple shirts, a sweatshirt and jacket. Standing there he looked solemnly at us long enough for us to look up.
“Ummm,” he said pursing his lips, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath the way people do when there’s bad news. “Silence is no longer with us,” he said his voice catching, his eyes closed.
“Silence is?” I whispered.. He nodded. “How? Where? What? I don’t understand.” My heart shattering. Silence was one of those special little souls that comes a long and steals your heart. She was so full of personality and curiosity. She chirped her crazy chirp and roosted wherever she could be near me. She sat on the porch when I hung Christmas lights. Silence was the nut on top of the chicken coop or hanging out in a tree. She hopped in the van whenever she could and she and Louise rushed around when I came home running to see me when I’d get out of the car. I was in a daze.
(last Christmas -Silence my little helper)
((Seriously, does anyone think they're going to have a pet turkey? Silence was so curious and interested in everything - a lot like Lloyd)
(Silence let me know who was boss)
(When she was healthy -Silence was one big bird)
(my Silence)
(Silence checked everything twice)
“I found her in the chicken coop this morning, she died by the food bowl. You remember where Colt (the gosling) died?”
“Yeah, over past the Kubota barn,” Henry acknowledged.
“Right. Well, last night when I put her away she was just sitting over there. So I picked her up and put her inside.”
Sill unbelieving I asked, “So she wasn’t attacked?”
“Well, she is missing feathers, and I found Brad ‘dancing’ on her when I came in.” Alexis explained.
“Frank did that after one of the Red Dorking hen’s died I think it’s just an instinct,” I said thinking back over the last few days. “Henry and I did just talk about her when we went to Quinn’s first piano recital yesterday.”
“Yeah, I noticed she’s been separate from the rest of the turkeys and I asked if my mom thought maybe turkeys got jealous.”
“Henry thought since the boys are so enamored with Alice maybe she felt like last year’s turkey hen. You know, lately she has been acting weird and I carried her the other day to her pen and she was really light.” Suddenly I began to sob. I sobbed all the tears for Silence and all the tears I’d never cried for Lloyd. Henry came over to me.
“Ahhh Mama,” he cooed.
(pretty bird- a Wishard Bronze)
(sneaky Silence peeks)
(Frank commands attention because he is a publicity hound -always showy, but Silence was kooky)
Not knowing what else to do I called my sister, who agreed to perform a necropsy. “I’m not really a bird doctor so I’ll only know if there’s something really obvious,” she warned me.
“That’s ok,” I said somewhat haltingly. “I just need to know why she died if I can,” I kept wiping tears away as they rolled down my face. “I know it sounds silly, but I really loved this ding-dang turkey. I know it sound silly to feel so attached, but she was my little friend. I ’ve been crying my eyes out but I have to think about Frank now. Just in case I did something wrong or she had a disease. I haven’t been able to look at the body, but Henry said he thought some of the wounds on her back were post mortem.”
“Why does he think that?” She asked.
“He didn’t see bruising and you know he watches "Bones" all the time,” I explained.
Alexis put her in a box and when Awesomez came out to the farm she put it in the van for me and I took it to the Cat Clinic where Lisa’s working. She did the necropsy assisted by a student who needed the experience. They filmed it for educational purposes. When Lisa called her voice was gentle. She knows how to handle me. “Well first off her body weight was really low. Her breastbone was protruding. She was only 10lbs.”
“I knew she’d felt light. but that's half. She’s supposed to be about 19lbs. Oh my gosh! Do you think I starved her to death? I thought she was foraging during the day, but she ate voraciously whenever I fed her. Maybe she just didn’t get enough food.” I worried.
“No. I took a look at her gizzard. A gizzard as you know from making many a Thanksgiving dinner is a bird’s stomach and her’s was strangely hard and filled with tiny pieces of plastic.”
“So do you think she was hungry?”
“I think she was exactly who you loved. She was extremely curious and she liked shiny things, so she ate them. Free-range birds will eat just about anything, rocks, nails and little pieces of stuff lying around. I saved you some of the pieces in case you can tell where they came from.”
“I’m thinking it might be from the plastic net around the round bales of hay.” I suggested.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll show them to you when you come in.”
“OK,” I replied thinking of Silence eating the plastic. Wishing I could go back in time and stop her. “There’s so much stuff on a farm. There’s stuff coming up out of the soil from years ago. So she just wasted away? She starved to death?”
(Looking wild & regal -my constant companion - not as showy as Frank, but such a sweetie and never silent)
“Yeah, sort of. She couldn’t process her food anymore.” She said quietly.
“I know it doesn’t change anything, but I feel better knowing it just happens. I don’t know if I can deal with birds anymore though. I’m over this heartache. Death never gets easier first Lloyd now Silence.”
“It’s the price you pay.”
I picked up Silence’s body at the clinic. It had been in the freezer in a garbage bag. I was supposed to talk to Lisa but she was in a room with a client and I didn’t want to disturb her. I took a breath and carried my friend to the car. I don’t know why it should be so hard, I’ve carried many frozen turkeys to the car after all. But it was different.
Henry and I got home too late to bury her so I left her in the car safe from predators. “She was my pretty bird,” Henry said tapping the box. And as he said it I could see him kneeling over her so many times saying “pretty bird, pretty bird.” and cooing to her from the time she hatched.
"She didn't ever get to have babies," I said ruefully.
"Listen she was a bad mom. She could hatch a clutch for anything." He laughed and I smiled too. It was true she was not cut out for motherhood.
(no one's perfect)
(she kept trying -)
At 7:30AM in the Pacific Northwest it’s still just getting light this time of year. We didn’t know what to do because we needed to bury her but we didn't want to rush and try and bury her before school.
“I don’t’ really want to drive around with her in the car all day do you?” Henry asked hesitantly.
“No.” I said decisively. Henry and I decided what with the cold she’d keep well enough until we could bury her if we could keep her body safe from rodents or other predators. So I began looking around for an empty box. Henry found one that would close from Costco. Lifting her into it I closed the lid and carried her out to the barn. As I was putting a brick on top of the box to keep mice out Henry said, “Mama, Silence would be very happy we were burying her in a chip box, she loved Doritos™”. Tears came to my eyes. Henry was right.
The last couple of years we’ve loved looking at the gingerbread houses at the Port of Bellingham Gingerbread Christmas Contest. Gingerbread houses had a huge tradition in Colonial America and so this year, Tom and I decided we’d try our hand. Tom had never made a gingerbread house and I’d only done a kit when I was eight-years-old, which I gave to my grandparents.
Deciding what to do was quite a task. We loved the “Up” entry last year and Awesomez suggested a paddleboat after “The Princess and the Frog”. We were sold.
(Our inspiration last year's "UP" entry)
“Personally, I think you should do Mt. Rushmore with Eva Marie Saint hanging on,” Chris snickered. “A paddleboat just isn’t ambitious enough.” He chided. “Come on! challenge yourself!”
(the cardboard mock up --a little worse for wear- began as 4 decks but was reduced to three - it just looked too ding-dang tall)
Tom designed the cardboard mock up at Halloween, then built the 24” x 24”wooden base and was going to have it shipped. I didn’t really think Tom would get to participate too much more than that since he always has Thanksgiving with his older kids, Craig and Laura, in California and the competition is December 1st but then again –
Some women buy lingerie some bake gingerbread. Because - where there’s a will there’s a way. And as it happens – This year for the first time - Tom flew in the day after Thanksgiving, bringing the base and the battery-powered motor he’d rigged to light the inside and outside lights as well as turn the paddlewheel.
For as much planning as I’d done, I thought I’d have all the pieces baked before Thanksgiving so all we’d have to do is start to assemble. However, I did not count on the cows escaping to the neighbors, the power outage, the pipes freezing or Lucky needing to be put down. And of course there was a lot of trial and error. Some pieces were too thick others too thin. There was a huge learning curve. You have to add any details to the rolled out dough before you bake, but you don’t cut them out until after the first 20 minutes of baking so they hold their shape.
(starting the gingerbread baking - with template Tom designed)
We had a gingerbread recipe that created rock hard pieces – we scored the decks like hardwood – a pattern I’m intimately familiar with having put in more hardwood floors and ceilings than I’d care to think about.
The plan was to have everyone participate in the assembly. Unfortunately, Toby had to leave on Saturday so she helped bake some of the pieces and worked feverishly on window molds. Naturally, she was in constant communication over the phone with ideas and suggestions. Ayumi proved to have a knack for royal icing but alas she too had to leave to go home before assembly began. Phoebe got a fever of 103 knocking the entire Donaldson team out of the picture and it goes without saying Mike is all thumbs.
(Toby does her part and makes foil molds for the cabin's sugar glass windows)
(liquid sugar, cream of tartar and lemon extract make lollipop windows - and a few lollipops with the extra)
(Phoebe the little sickie)
(Pouring the lollipop water- foil barricades in place
(Lollipop sugar water - was supposed to be blue and green, but a funny thing happened from the stove to the pouring - oh well)
(Ayumi and I make a vat of rice crispie treats so Tom can sculpt the hull)
(Tom working on the motor so the paddle wheel will turn. and the lights will light - Mike in his familiar supervisory position)
(Tom carves the hull)
(Ayumi enjoys spreading the royal icing on the cabins)
(Henry Ices and Mike continues to supervise)
(the cabins iced)
(Henry does a layer of buttercream)
(smoothing black fondant on the hull)
My mom was a big believer in making Christmas more than a day. She always told me that Christmas was a big disappointment to people and such a difficult time because of all the expectations put on one day. So it’s best to do things and share things as a family like going to a play rather than just opening presents that can hardly measure up to everyone's Norman Rockwell image. So I threw some pancakes on the griddle and kept Henry home from school for a dose of holiday cheer. Christmas music blared from the game room on the jukebox and decorated The Evangeline and snacked on royal icing.
We had plenty of mishaps. The chocolate fence didn't work, the wiring had to be fixed about a thousand times, the lollipop water cracked all over the place, Tom and Alexis couldn't cut the pretzels for the second deck fence. Luckily, Henry turned out to be a pretzel cutting savant. Oh and we planned to have the characters from the movie on board and in the water, but the modeling chocolate we made turned out to be greasy and weird. Not to mention the gum paste fiasco. We tried to make about 17 things from gum paste, but having never worked with it we just couldn't get it together. But we persevered and it came together.
“Your mother was right,” Alexis turned towards me thoughtfully as he Elvis and Tom finished their duet of “Blue Christmas”. Adirondack gingerbread deck chair and fondant towel in hand he said softly, “This is Christmas.”
When we ran out of time and the Evangeline had to get to the ferry terminal. Tom went up to take a quick shower before his flight. He’d rented a car and was going to meet me at the ferry terminal to help me carry The Evangeline inside before heading to the airport. I was going to go ahead in my car with The Evangeline and pick up Henry early from school so he could be there for the official delivery.
Clearing a path to the car so as not to trip over any cats, balls, deck chairs, dog beds, dog bowls, water dishes, baseball bats, geese or sundry other stuff. I got an old clean sheet from the linen closet and put it down on the floor of the van. Next I got a cushion and some boxes to brace The Evangeline in place and keep her steady.
“You know, this was so fun and I’m so proud of it, I don’t care one bit if we win or not. I just want someone to go – oh look at this one!” I told Alexis as he helped me carry our entry out to the Odyssey.
“I think that’s going to happen, no problem,” Going through the front door we rested the box on the railing. We took it slow being uber-careful, as we had been the whole time. Each night we locked the pieces of gingerbread and the lollipop water in the laundry room to keep them safe from pouncing kittens or snacking canines.
(Henry drops on gingerbread scored to look like hardwood planks - should have baked egg whites on top to make it shiny, but forgot)
(Tom and Henry work on the white chocolate mold - fence for the second deck. - unfortunately it was not to be- it kept breaking)
(Tom drills holes for the blinking lights that will be the fireflies - ala Disney and Pirates of the Caribbean)
(2mm dragees - little gold balls - for the cabin trim- piped icing cement around windows and dipped)
(Irish inspects - the work- or looks for a snack)
(getting details on the edges)
(Henry is the pretzel cutting savant - and voila a new fence for deck two instead of the chocolate mold)
(In an attempt to make the pretzel fence white - Alexis cut a piece of chicken wire and formed a dipper - but alas it didn't work. The fence clogged when the icing was thicker and it didn't cover the pretzel when it was thinner - had to redirect - Henry had to recut all the pieces- after I ruined them)
(pretzel fence piece - with white dragees ready for gold detail)
(kitchen a disaster - painting with lemon extract and gold lustre dust)
(Starting to stack and add fence supports etc)
(flags on upper deck)
(close of fence detail)
(Life Savers in position)
(testing the smoke stacks - tubes covered in black fondant)
(Almost! - Alexis and Tom asses)
(Alexis's deck chair, fondant towel and life saving box -my candy corn bunting now on-Tom icing cemented them in crescents on parchment -so I could put them on as a unit)
(ready to go!- with cotton candy smoke)
Never once did we worry about Edward. However as everyone knows horses love sugar and here we were carrying one big giant sugar cube out to the car. Pesky, fuzzy, naughty Edward sniffed out this equine sized snack and mounted his attack. Our arms full we couldn’t push him away. We had to carefully hold on to the large wooden box on which rested our precious entry. Alexis tried forcing Edward to move backward by using his entire body and walking backwards, but Edward is 17-hands-high and he just came over the top of Alexis with his long arching neck. Bobbing his head back and forth to thwart Edwards’ attempts Alexis looked like he was having a seizure. Edward tried plucking the fondant smoke stacks right out of the Evangeline with his horse lips.
“One nibble just one and it’s off to the glue factory for you!” I warned. Edward was non-plussed. Like a misbehaved toddler he knew full well this was just one more idle threat. Desperate, Alexis and I knew losing was not an option, in unison we dashed toward the open van right past his accomplice Miracle and quickly slid the van door shut.
(Sir Edward - a whole lot of trouble)
(now - just upstairs)
(blue sparkle gel hides the cracks in the lollipop water and Tom adds last minute foam is added behind the paddle wheel)
(on display)
(State Capital building)
I gathered up Henry who held onto the last minute icing bag I’d brought with me for last minute touch ups. Tom had secured a space close to the terminal for easy access. Henry and he carried it in while I held my breath. As Tom and Henry hemmed and hawed about where to place it and at what angle we looked around at the other entries. There was an impressive state capitol building and a hilarious crypt with a dead gingerbread man, but we felt confident we’d kicked some gingerbread butt.
“A good first effort,” Tom said as we left to grab a bite to eat. “Now how will we top it for next year?”
“I’m still basking in the gingerbread afterglow, I can’t think about next year.”
The next day, I was running errands with Awesomez when the call came in, “Is this Denise?”
(Festive - ok it's a little Christmas looking, but it'll do pig)
All was right with the world. The house was relatively clean despite the power outage and the pipes freezing. Alexis had been cast some sort of spell and water had magically appeared out of the faucets last night.
(in Tom's coat wearing pjs - putting coats on goats during the middle of the night in the extreme cold)
(The goats are not playing Survivor - this is a full service barn - everyone is warmer now)
(Not nearly as stylish as my friend, Sandra - but staying warm during the power outage - when the house got to 42 degrees- the stove is gas so we can still make coffee)
The table was set, snow covered the ground and clung to the trees in Bing Crosby fashion. I’d cranked up the heat to 67 to keep my out of town guests’ teeth from chattering. The house was cozy and lively, people coming and going, cartoons blaring, hot coffee, sautéed onions and roasting turkey mingled in the air confirming it was indeed another Thanksgiving.
Toby had flown in with Dean the night before and had been up promptly at 6:30 chopping. No, she didn’t want to use a chopper, she’s Italian. The Donaldson’s had arrived with the prodigal son, Mike in tow and were laughing and chatting over a wheel of brie drizzled with our newest Stinger™ - “The Naughty Nana” a ginger and pepper blend.
(Toby in her apron and Bruno in his coat take a break from the meal preparations)
(Chris in the background - Toby Ann Forlenza)
(Clearly Dean has gone to the dogs)
Ayumi (pronounced “I-U-Me), Henry, Quinn, Dean and Phoebe’s old babysitter was bustling about cooking cranberriies while her 7-year-old daughter Kaya played 57 rounds of tick-tack-toe with Quinn on the whiteboard in the kitchen. It was wonderful so nice to have Ayumi with us - she and her high school friend Ilsa had been the kids sitters since Ayumi was 15 and Henry was about a year and a half. I'd leave him with Ilsa sitting and come home to find Ayumi. They both lived in the neighborhood and would just let themselves in, use the pool and hang-out.
"Ayumi you should move up here," Mike suggested emphatically as he shoveled in some rosemary bread slathered Naughty Nana. "This is by far my favorite flavor," he informed me.
"Well," she said cautiously, "I do want to get out of Los Angeles. Life is such a grind what with being three hours in the car everyday." She lamented.
(Ayumi & Kaya after sledding and building their first snowman)
(Kaya and Henry snuggle)
(Mike has been missing in action for two months - upon receiving death threats from me - he re-emerged for the holiday - Mike laughs easily - and is afraid of me - two of his best traits)
“Hey hon, can you get the second oven working?” Toby asked. “I have a few more things to put in.”
Taking a sip from my coffee cup I reached up to the cupboard and grabbed a box of stick matches. Absently I took the middle griddle off the old O’keefe & Merritt and began pressing and turning the red button Pablo my old plumber taught me to do. This is supposed to secure the ability to hold the flame.
Putting my coffee cup down on the counter took a nibble of brie and bent down and opened the broiler confirming the pilot was out. Striking the match I reached up with my right hand to turn on the oven. I guess someone had already turned it to 500 degrees. In split seconds it was all over. I heard the “whoop” and saw the plume of flame leaping toward me. Somehow I knew it wasn’t going to stop. I slammed my eyes shut. I could feel the flames reach my face and my hair crackling. Reflexively I turned my head pushing my self away with my right hand and throwing myself face down on the wood floor. I didn’t move a muscle assessing whether or not I was on fire. In between the screams of surprise that filled the kitchen I chastised myself for the crumbs on the floor now grinding into my cheek. I could hear my sister’s voice through the din. She was going to throw her scarf around me to put out the flames. Toby’s hand reached in. Everyone was asking if I was all right. My sister who I’ve lived through about a million tragedies with started making Michael Jackson jokes before I could confirm I still had my vision.
I was scared really scared.
I felt a sharp searing pain in my left eye and my right hand really hurt. Crumpled up, Toby and my sister lifted me to the sink. Lisa hugged me and Dr. Donaldson took charge, “Keep your hand under the cold water. Quinn, get her ice, Toby do you have any eye solution? Let’s get her upstairs.”
Once I opened my eyes and Lisa examined me asking all the familiar questions, “Does your eye feel scratchy?”
“No.”
“Thank God.”
(no more bangs :( -- the end of the world to someone who hides behind them - and what's left of my scorched and melted hair- although you can't tell - my eyebrows are crunchy)
“I’m grateful I can see.”
“You dodged a bullet," she said squeezing my hand, "and sorry my Michael Jackson jokes were perhaps a few minutes premature.”
“We’ve had worse Thanksgivings,” I said smiling as much as I could manage. She nodded knowingly thinking back to Thanksgivings past – our grandmother Irene died on Thanksgiving, and there was the Thanksgiving, we were held at gunpoint…"Ahh memories, this will be the Thanksgiving Denise burned her hair off."
Now that our medical fears had been assuaged, Quinn came bounding in to assess the cosmetic. Scrutinizing my hair she turned to Phoebe, “I think what we need is to first deep, deep condition, can you get some mayonnaise and conditioner in here?” She turned her attention back to me and said in her most consoling Quinn-tone, “Don’t worry, you still have a little bit of eye lash, your eyebrows are singed but some are still sort of there and your bangs? Well, hats are really in this time of year. I saw some really cute ones at American Eagle.”
(getting the treatment in my skull pajamas and towel)
(Quinn my hairdresser, me now in my pajamas and towel -covered in mayonnaise and conditioner all over and the lovely assistant - Phoebe - treating me in my yet to be renovated bathroom)
(with saran wrap around my head - we sat down and were grateful - especially me)
(Quinn is grateful for mashed potatoes)
(Everyone has fun playing games)
(Henry wins Apples to Apples)
(None of our farm turkeys were harmed in the preparation of dinner - before the snow - Frank looks a little motley, but Brad is coming into his own - Alice is his mate - Silence matches Frank)
Honestly, the last thing I want in this world is another animal. I know my sister won’t believe me, but I really have all the animals I can handle. After all, I have one precious pup dying of cancer and I already have the entire colonial farm animal collection – down to the very last snuggly little piggy, Midge. My barn is full and when I say full I mean love – and crap. A lot of work goes into keeping that place from falling apart. And in the winter they can’t just graze on the pasture. Hay costs money and chicken feed is not purchased for, you know - chicken feed.
On the other hand, I can barely take the tension filled now dark drive home every evening. My stomach is in knots wondering if there’s been a coyote attack or Frank is roosting on the barn, if Alice is sitting on top of the chicken coop. I hope Norton and Midge are cuddled up in their pigpen and Alexander is tucked in his corner of the barn. Safe.
(Silence stays safe in a tree)
Night after night, my sleep is stolen by the sound of Irish warning howling coyotes to stay away. I worry about Lucky down in the pasture unable to walk let alone run. Death by coyote pack seems horrific. The yips from the pack in the hills taking there prey keep me from getting any real rest. I am at the window several times a night listening – just in case I need to rush to the pasture and intervene. The other night I heard such chilling sounds I stepped into Henry’s boots and ran in my flannel pajamas with my air horn to the barn for fear a coyote had slipped under the gap in the sheep pen door. It was a false alarm.
There are three animals that protect a herd. First, is the donkey. To begin they will sound the alarm with an “EEEEEAhhhhh” that can be heard for quite a distance. Next they run and lure the predator away, kicking the unsuspecting culprit with deadly aim – They’re next assault, I call - the flamenco-dancer-stomp. They charge the intruder and stomp repeatedly with their front feet. Once they have their adversary pinned they go to stage three: the bite.
Miracle performed this three-pronged assault beautifully when she first came. She bonded with the sheep and goats and begrudgingly looked after the geese. She used her arsenal of defense many times and I felt she was in control. In three years, I never lost an animal. The game warden often mentioned this surprised him when I’d report a cougar sighting, “After all, you’re practically running a lunch buffet out there.” What could I say? Miracle was a – well – miracle. But she like many females fell in love – and quit work.
(lovebirds - Sir Edward and Miracle)
The next recommended herd guardian is an Anatolian shepherd. And as it happens I have one of these. Anatolians are fierce protectors. They can withstand the cold. Many live in the barn and stay with their flocks full time. But mine although interested in working part-time would rather spend his evenings on the sofa watching “Dancing with the Stars”. So he’s no solution.
(Irish enjoying Quinn's attention. - He uses that freckled paw to clock you if you stop snuggling)
At this point the only option left is to get rid of all my other animals, as they’re starting to get picked off one by bone. Or get a llama. What I don’t’ know about llama’s could fill a book so I began researching. Googling. And calling around. I spoke to Toby because she’d owned a couple. She told me about their feet, their feed and what she thought. I looked on craigslist because I didn’t want to spend a lot of money and figured I might be able to pick up a slightly used llama. Finally, I talked to a man who told me about a woman who didn’t live too far from me who was an expert in llamas. I called her.
Niki Kuklenski owned many llamas – none of which were for sale, but she said she’d love to have us over to talk about llamas and have us meet a few. She also mentioned she liked to help people find the right llama. So I got Henry, wrangled up Awesomez and headed out to meet some llamas.
“What do you think of your mom looking at a llama?” Awesomez asked Henry.
“When my mom says let’s go Look at an llama, that’s mom-speak for get a llama and take it home with us,” Henry said looking out the window.
“The ones we’re going to see today are not even for sale!” I protested.
“I know you.” Henry said without missing a beat.
“At least I know you can’t take one home in a minivan,” Awesomez looked over at me and chuckled.
We got out of the van and were introduced to about twenty different llamas. We were sniffed and scrutinized. Llamas it turns out have no idea of personal space.
We learned llamas are similar to cats. They investigate you when they feel like it. Not all are good guardians. Males are perverts and will kill the female sheep and goats they’re protecting trying to mate them. Llamas should only spit at each other or if really threatened. They should not just go around spitting at people that is the equivalent of having a dog that bites. Llamas need llama pellets, selenium and hardly ever go in a barn. They like being outside, need a bit of shelter and hardly eat a thing. Some breeds you sheer for fiber some you don’t. If you do sheer them then you do it about once a year. You trim their feet every couple of months. Llamas can cost thousands of dollars or even be free. “Oh and you can put them in a minivan,” Niki said off-handedly walking toward the tack room. “They’ll cush right down.”
I glanced at Awesomez who could barely keep from laughing. We did not go home with a llama in my minivan. But we did get some leads on free llamas.
A couple of days later, Henry and I were in the car on our way to meet “Breezy”. The drive we thought was going to be about three hours one-way. Henry didn’t mind he just popped in “Animal House” and leaned back.
After the main feature, the bonus features, the director’s commentary and the anniversary extras Henry asked sleepily, “ How much longer?” We were well past the three-hour mark, I looked at the exit number on the directions and glanced at the off ramp sign, quickly deducing we were only about two-thirds there. After some discussion, and the promise of a pizza, we decided since we already gone this far we’d keep going.
When the sign “42 miles to Portland” came into view I had to laugh. Had we known it was going to take us six hours we never would have gotten in the car, but here were. We got off the freeway and made our way to the llama place. Breezy was adorable. She had a beautiful face and a cream and camel colored coat. As we looked at her we wondered if she was going to be ours – “I just wormed her and did her feet. She’s ready to go he said as he went in her pen and tried to put her lead on her. I felt guilty. He’d obviously thought we were going to leave with her today. Suddenly I felt a little trapped.
(Breezy)
(Pretty Breezy)
Breezy pinned her ears as she threw her head back and worked up a good one. She spat and spat at the nice man who tried to brush it off. “She’s a little cranky right now,” he apologized, but she’ll settle down. I thought of my grandmother Irene – “Pretty is as pretty does” she used to say.
“Henry go on over there so I can get a picture of you with Breezy.” I suggested. Henry just glared at me arms folded not budging.
“Can we meet the babies in the lower pasture?” Henry redirected already done with Breezy. They were friendly, snuggly and sweet. From the moment we came to the gate they ran across the field to greet us. Their gate is so funny they look kind of like a camel when they move. It was hilarious to seen them romp toward us. Taller than us, they craned their necks over the tops of us. As I was speaking, to the owner I felt something - turning my head slightly I saw a llama face only ½ an inch away. I couldn’t help but giggle.
One llama considered abnormal – had defective blue eyes. He was Breezy’s son, which is why they were getting rid of her. Patches looked a little like a vampire llama. The other one was Rizzo. Henry fell in love with Patches. And although Patches was available he was a both a baby and a boy. And therefore out of the question. Just as Henry began to beg and try and convince me Patches wouldn’t be a problem, Patches made an un-godly gurgling sound and mounted Rizzo.
(Patches and Rizzo)
(there are the blue eyes)
“What was that creepy weird sound?” Henry laughed.
“That’s orgling,” the woman replied.
“Good name,” Henry confirmed.
"It's the mating sound," she explained.
"It sounds more like the date rape sound," Henry laughed again.
We went to yet another pasture and wrangled one llama to the side. This was Annabelle. She was ten years-old and much sweeter than Breezy, to be sure but completely uninterested in us. Of course, I knew she won’t be like a dog, but she still just didn’t seem right. I didn’t connect with her nor did Henry.
After that we were introduced to a few more llamas. One little girl named Cocoa who was a doll. And despite her youth we might have taken her, but she wasn’t for sale. So against all odds we left without a llama. Instead, I spent 6 hours listening to why I should get Patches despite his mounting and orgling.
(Henry holds still while Cocoa investigates)
(Henry and Cocoa)
That night I reported back to my llama mentor about the spitting incident. Appalled she ferreted up a few more - free llama possibilities. And two days later, Awesomez and I were on a ferry to meet more llamas.
“I noticed the seats are down in your van this morning,” Awesomez snickered. “Is there some possibility you’re going to attempt to bring a llama back in the van on a ferry? Do they allow llamas on ferries in Washington?” She said as she took a sip of her morning coffee the wind blowing as the boat sped across the bay.
(Awesomez on the ferry)
(me)
“It’s not a llama, it’s just a big dog. An exotic giant breed dog, Tibetan I believe. ”
“I see,” she said as we took in the spectacular blue sky the wind whipping our hair in ninety-eight directions.
When we drove off the ferry we head out of Port Townsend. “You mean you don’t know how to get there? We’re just supposed to look for a car on the side of the road?” Awesomez asked incredulously. I hadn’t told her this information, as she can be a little excitable. This was a need to know basis operation. She was also unaware at this point that if we didn’t find the llama of my dreams we were headed another hour or so south to one of the places they filmed “Twilight”. I figured I’d spring that on her later – if necessary.
“She said she’d be there, just think of this as an adventure,” I said. Soon after we spied a car lurking on the side of the road. The window slid down,
“Follow me,” she said and obediently, I fell behind her car. We wound up a rutted dirt road into the hills.
Bouncing around in her seatbelt like a rag doll Awesomez noted, “This is uhhhh way uhhh more remote than yourrrrr house.” And then, on cue, the forest opened and a lovely very suburban looking house sat in a clearing.
I parked and we got out greeting our newest llama-lady, Mikie. Without a lot of excess chitchat we head down the hill to the barn. Along the path we met a muddy old light brown dog with a limp who decided to allow us to continue.
As a bevy of llamas came into view, but one llama stood out. She was tall and goofy looking. I liked her immediately. They were all dark chocolate brown with various markings. I stood there hopeful.
(Masquerade- beautiful but not for me)
(Never and Belle)
“This one right here is Belle, she’s the proven herd guardian,” Tim told us. Sometimes you get what you hope for and this was one of those times. I couldn’t help smiling – Belle – maybe she wouldn’t mind Annabelle.
After she was haltered I took Annabelle for a little get-to-know-you-walk. The walk went ridiculously well. Annabelle and I were like two old friends.
“She’s really taken to her,” her owner, said to Awesomez as I walked by, “I’m kind of amazed.” Annabelle was giving me tickly llama kisses on my face.
“She’s really good with animals,” I could hear Awesomez singing my praises.
(not a fancy edited video but. it's better than nothing?)
“Considering how things are going I think we have a match,” Mikie said suggesting Belle might just hop in the van with me. We all walked over to the Odyssey to give it a try. I got in the back holding the lead rope. Annabelle peered in considering the situation. She stood there eyeing me wondering what I was doing. Sadly, Belle decided she really wasn’t up for a car trip and so I walked her back and put her in her pen with her friends. “You’re my llama.” I whispered to her. She nibbled my ear with her soft llama lips.
(the old dog, Stacey and Belle with my Honda Odyssey)
(Belle - kooky and sweet - now also known as - Miss Annabelle Lee)
When we were driving away, Awesomez said, “you love her don’t you?” I nodded surprised at how I felt. Who knew I was going to love a llama? Love is funny, you never know when it’s going to find you.
(Porcs dans une couverture -Norton and Midge do - pigs in a blanket)
Dearest Daddy,
Bonjour. I am sorry about this year’s Notre Dame football team but I suppose you're getting used to it. And I hear the cold Paris autumn is intolérable. I know I’ve been unusually silent since the spring, and I know too it makes you feel disconnected from everything that’s going on here. Again, I’m sorry. Forgive me if I repeat myself, but I’m just going to give you a broad update on what’s been going on.
L'actualité:
Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been on a big life improvement kick. As you know, it started with the around the clock renovations on the house. I just couldn’t take it any more – the constant mess, projects everywhere. It consumed me – and frankly, I went to and from school, Home Depot and Lowes. Alexis and I worked as I’ve said before, late into the night. Day after day after day.
(achem - my dirty little secret - the laundry basket of unopened mail - Awesomez is helping me - correction forcing me to open- ok I'm still lying she's opening it and I'm standing next to her)
(Alexis works and works and works)
Then Lisa and Lindsey moved in and the renovations that weren’t finished came to an abrupt standstill. Even now, pieces of window casing and crown molding stacked in the game room. But it was time to prepare for the fair.
Honey became the focus. We had to jar and then we had to buy shelves to put the jars on. Banners were designed, and created, business cards, t-shirts tables, tablecloths, infomercials, etc. Awesomez labeled day in and day out. The fair came and went.
Sales from the fair were underwhelming. It was exhausting trying to compete with deep fried Oreos™. The problem we face is that true honey lovers don’t like you to “do” anything to their honey and consequently, they don’t appreciate the idea of the Stingers™ line. Unfortunately, people who really like it don’t want to try it, because they think they don’t really like honey enough. I’ve been racking my brain how to overcome this problem and I keep thinking about the Life cereal campaign “Hey Mikey! You try it.” Moms were supposed to think it was healthy, but kids were supposed to think it was tasty.
(Honey packages -almost ready for mailing- we use hay - it's environmentally friendly - it smells good when you open it and we have a whole lot of it on hand)
(Henry mailing his honey)
A few stores are carrying it now and it seems to be selling, but we really need an endorsement from someone whom people admire, a food editor or someone. If only Ellen liked spicy food. Who knows? Maybe she does. Perhaps I’ll send her a jar. We did just get accepted as a member candidate to the National Association for the Specialty Food Trade, which means we may be going to their Winter Fancy Food Show in January. It’s in San Francisco and though it won’t be cheap, I think it’s the best way to help launch Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey™ and Stingers™. Oh and by the way, we’re just now coming out with a new flavor! The Naughty Nana™. It’s a ginger/pepper blend. I can’t wait for you to taste it when you come in January. Chris says it’s his new favorite.
(getting ready to launch)
School started and life became complicated. Awesomez and I were trying to juggle the kids, school and everything else. Lindsey is very teen and thought living on the farm was fine in the summer, but it hampered her social life. So after much discussion, Lisa and Lindsey found an apartment in town near school. It was definitely the right decision. They have two dogs (Angel and Tasia- as in “Fantasia”) and neither got along with Irish. This made living in the house a bit more of a circus than usual. And having them in town is handy. I can go and spend the day at their apartment learning QuickBooks™ (a bookkeeping program) and not have to stay at a coffee shop all day. Awesomez can drop off or pick up something for me so it’s great in a lot of ways. Awesomez and I are actually spending more time together than when we were living together. I feel as though I got my friend back. Besides, blending two families isn’t easy. Heck, living with anyone isn’t easy, especially, since she's about as fanatic about football as you are.
(Awesomez and I work at taking the top fence post off - around the entire pasture - Alexis' great idea to save money and still be able to build a new section-Brilliant!)
The truth is though it hit me hard they were going to leave; I’d worked so long for them to arrive and spent so much time preparing. I had this picture in my head of snowy evenings with us around the fire watching some old movie. Alas, that was not to be. Lindsey won’t watch old movies. Awesomez is so allergic to pet dander she could barely sit on the sofa, proving life isn’t always a Christmas card. Selfishly, I’d also imagined Awesomez would be there to help me with all the winter stuff.
As luck would have it, just about this time Alexis mentioned he was looking for a place to spend the winter. His situation was coming to a close and he needed to move on. So without much hesitation I offered him the attic “penthouse” and he gladly accepted. We worked out a rent/work agreement and are happily preparing for winter getting heat lamps, checking water heaters and putting in wind blocks. There’s so much to repair on the loafing shed in the pasture. The little cows have pushed down planks all over the place and the round bale feeder leaks like sieve.
(back in my coveralls again - cleaning out the barn from Sir Edward's mischief)
I can’t tell you what a relief it is to come home and find something done that I didn’t do. Alexis has already reorganized the barn and prevented an electrical fire down at the pump house. It seems my cracker jack former contractor didn’t make sure the wiring down there was done properly and we had an accident waiting to happen. The water stopped one evening when I wasn’t home and Alexis went to investigate only to smell the smoldering. He changed it out and prevented a disaster.
Speaking of shoddy workmanship, my sink in the kitchen has sunk again. I don’t understand why, but I guess the guys who put in my new counters and sink never built the proper support beneath it. So the sink has separated from the counter again by about two inches – This is the second time in less than three years. Bless his heart Alexis is fixing that today. While I steal away this precious time drinking coffee and writing you. C'est la vie.
In addition to everything else, we’ve been asked to video document almost everything that goes on around here for a project. I feel a bit silly on camera, but I’ve been trying to comply. The idea is to inspire interest in Fort Flashback and the colonial living history camp. I know Dad I still dream. Rêver le rêve impossible. Perhaps the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree and all of that.
I haven’t slept well in months, which has been taking its toll on me. There is a reason why sleep deprivation is considered a form of torture. It’s the coyotes. My friend, Anna who has a turkey farm has lost a huge portion of her heritage turkeys this year. I worry every time I hear howling close by. During the day I worry about Frank, Brad, Silence and Alice - my silly turkeys and of course, Louise, my one kooky chicken. Norton and Midge seem to take care of themselves, but a pack could definitely take them if they tried. So I’ve been thinking seriously about getting a llama. I know, I know, another animal? And it’s not colonial. Although I can rationalize with the best of them and the llama actually originated in North America millions of years ago before moving to South America - so actually it's Pre-colonial. Right? Anyway, I’ve struggled with this day after day turning the options over in my head.
The thing is Miracle had just quit working. It seems this isn’t uncommon for donkeys they seem to work about two years and then retire. I guess she’s not unlike a lot of women, she fell in love and quit her job. What can I say? She’s an ass. Then of course, there’s Irish, but frankly he’d rather be curled up watching “Dancing With The Stars” than living outside guarding animals. So the only other choice is a llama. What with winter fast approaching and darkness being the order of the day, coyote attacks become more and more likely.
(just a little baby bear in the middle of Mosquito Lake Road -)
(a baby bear we saw on the way home- it was no bigger than Vivian and all alone - I hope Mama was close by)
If you can imagine, the nights are worse. You see, Lucky is still lame and I’m afraid they could easily take her down. I can’t imagine what a slow terrible death that would be. Irish does alert me to any trouble. So almost every night I get up and listen at the window to hear how close they are. If they are in fact, in the pasture I put on my coat and go down in the van. This happens so many times a night I’ve taken to sleeping on the sofa with Irish so I can get up quickly.
(Healthy Lucky)
I don’t’ know if you remember Lucky – she’s one of the little Irish Dexters I got from Pixie Forest Farms. She’s red like Gnatalie, Petite’s daughter and Gnatalie’s cousin. She’s a sweetie with a curly hairdo. Somehow last winter she injured her leg. I had the vet out last spring, but and he couldn’t find anything wrong with her that can be fixed. He told me to try putting her in the barn. Isolating her so she could get better, but she became insane and broke out of the barn. She doesn’t like being alone. Then back when Alexis and I were working on the house we built a corral underneath the Kubota barn. I thought maybe she’d be ok being outside if the other cows were nearby and she could see them. She broke out of there and limped back down to the pasture. So for the warm summer I left her grazing in with Petite and Gnatalie. I locked Abe and Andy out and let them roam the hills. The vet said they could try to mount her and that would be the end, so they contentedly roamed. For a while I thought she was getting better, but she isn’t. In fact, she’s atrophied so much on one side she looks strange. I fear she won’t last the winter. I don’t think she can maneuver through the mud and I can’t imagine what will happen with the snow and the ice. I’m looking for a sign that it’s time to put her down.
(Lucky just balancing. She doesn't walk much at all anymore)
Strangely, Henry, Tom and I are actually getting used the idea of butchering her if she does need to be put down. At this point after so many discussions, we feel throwing her away would be a sin, especially in these economic times. This has led me to think of Maryruth often. I don’t think I’m where she is, I don’t think I could just butcher Lucky to eat her, but I think if I have to put her down, I think I’ll be ok with it. What the heck is happening to me? Am I really a farm girl or what? The whole thing makes me want to crawl in a hole and go for a pedicure. If it weren’t for the money.
(Henry - the other guy)
On a different note, Henry got in a fight after school with a bully. I was extremely proud of him as he was protecting his friend, Dylan. I guess as usual it was over some girl. The bully thought Dylan had said something derogatory. He and Henry had been trying to avoid the kid during the day, but persistence paid off for the bully and he finally cornered them on the Village Green in Fairhaven. ( It sounds so Boston Massacre) Anyway, Henry said something right out some Clint Eastwood movie like "You'll have to go through me, first..." and the bully took him at his word disabling our hero with a blow to the neck. The bully was no stranger to street fighting. Henry on the other hand brought a knife to a gun fight. He had a perforated eardrum, a black eye, a chipped tooth,bruised ribs and a shattered ego. A vacationing pediatrician saw the whole thing and gave me the details. Chris was closer, left work and picked up his nephew who was embarrassed he hadn't even really gotten in a good swing.
He's been prohibited from playing his horn while his ear healed, but in any case he is probably giving up band this year. He’s going to finish his third year, but doesn’t really think it’s his thing. His ear has healed and he is back playing but he has informed me it’s not his dream. "I'm just not another Grandpa Horn..." Frankly, I’m just glad he stuck with it this long and hope maybe he’ll want to pick it up again in the future. I know he has your musical genes but honestly I can just about tell the difference between the piano and drums.
Henry’s turning into a teenager before my eyes. He’s not as helpful as he once was without my occasional screaming. And you know I can scream when the occasion calls for it. Toby’s going through the same thing with Dean. Dean is doing well in school and has a girlfriend – Her name is Fredleynn (that’s correct - Fred- a – lynn). He took her to the Burbank High Homecoming Dance where they had their first kiss “Right in front of the principal,” according to Dean. However, a real teenage boy Dean has been completely disregarding all rules of the home. He disobeyed Toby and left the house for school at 5:45AM in the dark to go to the park. She went ballistic. He doesn’t seem to be able to comprehend the danger he could be in alone in the park at that time of the morning and she doesn’t know why he would do this. We’re worried about someone taking advantage of him and he of course thinks he can handle anything. One night Toby came home from shooting “90210” and found Dean engrossed in some program with jelly all over the carpet. She said recently her head spins around on a normal basis and she is not exactly sure whether she goes completely Linda Blair. The smart money says she does.
(Dean and his girlfriend)
Henry hasn’t gotten that bad, yet - but he gives up on every chore without really trying. I never would have watched Mom do the kind of work he let's me do without helping. I brought the hammer down pretty hard the other day and I am seeing an enormous improvement. Just to make sure I know he's really, really trying to help out, he gives me a running dialogue as he does his 'good deed' Yesterday for instance I heard: “Gee, look there’s a box of my mom’s things that have tipped over. I think I’ll pick them up without being asked and set them somewhere out of the way so the dogs don’t knock it over again…” ETC. He’s a pain, but generally amusing so I still give him dinner.
Eying him the other morning, as he was pulling clothes of the top of the dryer and getting ready for school I noticed his clothes were way too small and fit like Jethro Bodine. We don’t get the hand-me-downs we used to from Trevor being all the way up here, so I’m going to have to go out and get him some bigger clothes. Otherwise, Quinn will inevitably go on and on about how socially unacceptable Henry is.
Quinn is actually trying to be helpful in her own teenage way. She is turning out to be a pillar of morality. I guess one of her friends is going down a bad path and she told her she couldn’t be friends with her if she continued doing some of the things she was doing. Quinn’s response when the girls asked her just to accept her and not judge her was, “I can’t be friends with someone I can’t respect.” I have to say I don’t think I would have had the insight to respond like that at her age.
When I ask Lisa about her she responds with “You know, Quinn is lovely and I adore watching her play volleyball. I sit in the stands and cheer for my daughter, but the moment she comes over and starts criticizing my hair and clothes and tells me to stop embarrassing her, I remember I have a teenager.”
(the eggs we learned how to do from Jim Roman - Chris's friend)
Oddly, we skipped Halloween this year for the most part. Oh, Henry wore a costume to school of course. He said to me one day Winnie the Pooh had an eating disorder, Piglett was OCD, Eyore had clinical depression and Tigger had ADHD - so that was the perfect costume for him. We had planned to do it up, but I just couldn't get it all together. Tom flew in and we went to the Donaldson's and learned to paint Ukrainian eggs. On Halloween we worked as a family on our gingerbread competition. The one at the Bellingham Ferry Terminal. This year we're finally going to enter. Tom’s been working on the mock-up and mechanics. I’m researching everything from the best gingerbread recipes for construction to icing for cement. Henry's been a baking fool. We’re going to go big! Everything has to be ready for Thanksgiving weekend when we'll assemble.
(Lovely Lauren, Quirky Quinn, Lizzy and our little Lindsey)
(Henry as T-i-doubleg-ger)
(Phoebe in the black widow) costume Lisa made for her)
Thanksgiving is quickly approaching and I’m having a houseful. Toby and Dean are coming so is Laura Miller, Ayumi (Henry/Quinn and Phoebe’s babysitter) and her daughter, Awesomez and Lindsey, Alexis of course Team Donaldson and Nana – and maybe Mike. You’re probably wondering about Mike. That would make two of us. He has completely dropped off the face of the planet. I have not spoken to him since September. I got one email confirming he’s not dead. He doesn’t call back he doesn’t write. I know money’s been tough and work has been hard. He hurt his back, which forced him to walk awkwardly causing his knee to act up. I don’t know much more than that. We’re all worried and have no idea what he’s doing or whether he’ll show up to Thanksgiving or not.
To answer the question I know is on your mind – NO, I’m not working at the Everybody’s Store, but I did apply for quite a few positions on including an assistant director at a daycare, a cleaning woman and a cake decorator. The assistant director position pays less than the cleaning position. I sent pictures of my Easter cookies and Phoebe’s birthday cake for the bakery job. Surprisingly, I got called back for interviews on all three so who knows what’s going to happen. Lisa is concerned about me getting the cake decorator job before we enter the gingerbread contest. She says if I get it we might have to switch to professional category. I told the woman I’ve never ever decorated cakes professionally, but she seemed to like my samples so I’m excited.
(Thankfully the other woman does the baking - and Lisa shouldn't worry professional-shesmesional - I still burn all my cookies - timer or not)
Stay tuned, you never know what’s going to happen next. . .we’re not sure if Midge is expecting piglets.
(is Midge craving pickles?)
Adieu pour maintenant, je vous aime,
Denise
p.s. Although Vivian is limping from the osteosarcoma, her quality of life is much better than I expected. I don't know how long she'll last, but she's older than Josephine or Gladys. In fact, she will be ten February 1st (and Luther 11 Irish twins) and I am grateful she is doing so well - here's a peek
Everyone gets lost in worries. The IRS sends you a letter making your heart skip a beat; a friend has a terrifying surgery so you can’t sleep, your refrigerator starts to sound like a Amelia Earhart’s airplane and your turkey who has a Napoleon complex gets in a fight with your emotionally unstable donkey, it happens to all of us. Then something shifts and like a kaleidoscope the whole world looks different.
For me it was Phoebe’s 10th birthday. My sister called and said Pheebzilla wanted to have her friends out to the farm for her birthday. I was honored and immediately the hamster in my brain jumped on it’s wheel and started spinning. I called Phoebe.
“How about we make your party a colonial party? We could press cider and stuff like that,” I suggested excitedly.
“Yeah! That sounds great! Can we churn butter Tante (aunt)?” Phoebe begged.
“Of course,” I said as I started jotting down ideas and supplies we’d need: cider pressing, candle making, quill and ink, caramel apple dipping, and hay rides.
I called Tom. “Um, what are you doing the weekend of the 25th?”
“Why?” He asked suspiciously. “I’m out of vacation days.”
“Oh, forget about it then. It’s no big deal. Phoebe just wants to have a colonial farm party for her birthday,” I dangled slyly. “I thought you might want to be here that’s all.”
“Hmm. I can fly up after work and be there by midnight on Friday and then fly home at 5:00AM on Monday. All my stuff is there.” I knew it. He’s worse than a Weight Watcher in a doughnut shop.
Franklin supplied the quills and we had plenty of ink and parchment from numerous projects, Hay wasn’t a problem, but I didn’t feel ready to hook up Abe and Andy with 10 year-old girls so we opted for the ye ole tractor. I wished I had the money to get the rest of the cannon parts here so we could shoot them off. I imagined the girls marching around and Henry lighting up the cannons but alas we’d have to make do without them.
Lately I’d been stressed over bills, drama, family emergencies and the honey business. So I decided to make Phoebe’s birthday cake and bake my way to mental health. There is nothing so therapeutic as immersing yourself in lemon icing and preparing for a party. In times of deep emotional duress while other people might go shopping I turn to fondant.
I needed to focus. So after Phoebe's real birthday, where we witnessed the ear-piercing-rite of passage into womanhood I left Henry at my sister’s for a couple of days coinciding with Awesomez and Lindsey’s departure for Tahoe. They were going to a family wedding leaving me all alone to find my inner Abigail Adams. Thursday I cleaned the house, did about 16 loads of laundry and baked three layers of cake, lemon per Phoebe’s request.
(Phoebe's factory made production-line ear)
(Henry and Phoebe - hold hands)
(Phoebe's newly pierced ears - Saphire the September birthstone)
(Phoebe blows out the candles)
Thursday night, I chatted on the phone with Toby as I nervously began the icing portion of the project. Before going to bed I locked the cake up tighter than Jack Benny’s vault.
Friday, I began getting ready for the idea that the party might have to be moved indoors indoors. Rain is always a possibility. I found my purple dress, a pitcher for the heavy cream, made more fondant for the cake and washed Franklin’s feathers to make quills. I knew colonial cakes were usually heavily spiced treats with alcohol and currants usually iced with a bunch of feathers, but I wasn’t going authentic with the tractor so I didn’t feel particularly guilty about using my new Wilton ribbon embossing tool.
After picking Henry up from school I scrambled to get everything finished before I had to run to the airport and get Tom. Henry lounged in the family room surrounded by dogs and cats watching a rerun of “Bones” coming in at commercials to both praise and critique my culinary efforts. After squinting at the mound of sugar for some time Henry decided he thought the cake looked a little too serious. “It looks kinda like a wedding cake,” he said with admiration, “but Phoebe’s only 10,” he reminded me gently. Suggesting I add yellow food coloring to the daisies and “paint” the embossed ribbon alternating colors. “That’ll jazz it up as Grandpa Horn would say,” he said taking a spoonful of icing back to the family room as the “Bones” theme song blared rhythmically signaling the end of Henry’s interest in my cake for another 12 minutes.
(lemon cakes being leveled for assembly)
(lemon icing between the layers)
(two on - one to go)
(a layer of icing around the cake to rest - or "glue" the fondant on)
(fondant ready to be tinted blue with a toothpick)
(turning blue)
(ready to roll)
(according to my calculations this is ready to go)
(whoo hoo more than enough!)
(a little trim and a lot of smoothing and I'm ready to move on to the bow)
(using my embossing ribbon tool I cut and assembled the ribbon - the curls I wrapped around a pencil)
(daisy cut outs)
(I decided to scatter different sized daisy all over the cake like garden wrapping paper)
Alone in the kitchen I stared at the cake. It was my best work. And I knew, I had intended to make the centers of the daisies yellow, but now I was a little scared to wreck everything I’d done. “No Guts No Glory” my philosophy for life, gained from a Boynton coffee mug illustrating a giant smiling dragon and a teeny tiny knight flashed in my head, I took a deep breath and dipped my paintbrush.
(I learned you don't use water to thin the food coloring as it sits on top of the buttercream - you need to thinwith vanilla or in this case lemon extract )
(voila)
Saturday morning, we woke up to a 6:30 AM alarm and found a spectacularly warm sunny day on the way. Henry, Tom and I sprang into action. Henry scrubbed the cider press with a water and bleach combination, hosed off the porch and began dipping wicks to form the core for the candles while Tom hooked up the trailer hitch to the tractor so he could give hay rides. I busied myself with how to keep the caramel warm, sticks for the apples, tablecloths, chairs and our costumes.
Unfortunately, Henry had outgrown all his clothes, so we had to make do with a pair of wool Union issue infantry pants a hand-me-down shirt and a extra Confederate jacket we had laying around. His scruffy hair worked perfectly with Tom’s tri-corn hat and we were in business. I donned my dress and decided colonial although my passion is not in fact my best look. I closely resembled an overripe plum. Tom only had colonial dress shoes so he opted for inauthentic farm boots instead.
I was a little nervous, that the kids might thing all of this was a bunch of corny hooey. I hoped we could pull it off. Creating Fort Flashback had been our dream and I hoped this opportunity to share even a little bit of it with some 5th graders would go well.
I needn’t have worried. The girls had a great time, they were enchanted with all the farm animals especially Norton and Midge, they couldn’t get enough of the hay rides, wrote their names endlessly with quills, dipped enormous candles and listened intently as Tom or I told them about the historical significance of some of the things there were doing. Party or not we had snuck some learning in and they didn’t seem to mind a bit. They were fascinated by what life was like in the past, they enthusiastically pressed cider and gobbled up their caramel apples. In a twist I didn’t expect the girls started doing butter churning chants. I suppose a little like girls do jump roping chants today. I’d never thought about it, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if colonial girls passed the time in just that way.
(Tom working the quill and ink station)
(13 colonies and the Don't Tread On Me)
(Henry takes a turn pulling the hay ride)
(Bradford being rescued by Tom and me - I look like I'm in some sort of stage play)
(some beefy candles)
(so big these guys needed to hang on the garden gate-)
(ready for a thick layer of caramel)
(Henry and Chris - looking a little sketchy)
(Phoebe on left butter churning)
(THE butter cube - we all made)
(the antics of Irish and Bruno)
(birthday party girls and Henry)
(Lauren enjoys a spoonful of caramel)
(the goats enjoy the hayride too)
After all the guests had left Tom and I made our way to the living room and sank back in the deep red leather chairs which had once decorated my grandfather’s psychiatric office. Happy and exhausted we reflected on all the day’s events. Pleased with everything, Tom remarked, “I really wouldn’t have changed anything except I would have loved to have fired off those cannons. It was so great to dust off the old stuff after so long. I think the kids learned a lot and didn’t even know it, but when their teacher starts telling them stuff about the colonies they’ll remember and start to make the connections. It makes me remember how good an idea this is and if we ever can get it off the ground it would be successful”.
A couple of days later, it was Back-to-school night and I sat crammed in a library full of 8th grade parents. I listened carefully as the social studies instructor went on about the year’s activities planned for teacher American History. “Well, we’re racing through the 13 colonies hoping we can instill in the kids what makes us Americans. We will skip to the Boston Massacre and do a mock trial and then we plan at the end of the year to go out to Hovander Park where those crazy people from the county will get into costume and get out their Civil War cannons. They love to blow things up. They’re nuts out there, I don’t know where those people go the rest of the year but they sure can teach history.” Knowing laughter filled the room as the people around me agreed with him. My hair straight and sleek, dressed in black almost entirely lint free I felt like I was undercover. No one around me realized I was one of those crazy people from the county. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. As I watched and listened to the cookie cutter parents around me talk about their worries I decided I liked being a crazy from the county who could teach history. I just wished the people were coming to our place, Phoebe’s party had reminded Tom and I just how much our dream of Fort Flashback means to us. Giving kids and adults the opportunity to see what life was like during our early history and why people did the things they did. Seeing the past helps us know who we are as a country. Learning about our founders and their imperfections and their lives gives us understanding of real leaders that overcame real obstacles. Our founders were not comic book heroes they were men and women who simply did not shirk from the challenges in front of them. They valued hard work, education, responsibility, honesty and community. By teaching American History we teach children to stay in touch with the things we value most to be good citizens. Freedom is every American’s responsibility. It’s something you fight for everyday whether it’s a playground bully or an unjust law.
Now if only we had the money to get the wheels for those cannons so we could blow things up.
(Henry and Lindsey -off to the first day- Princess Lindsey is not a morning person.)
The long-awaited first day of school started out kind of drizzly. Henry couldn’t find his new blue Quicksilver™ shirt or his contacts. Lindsey complained about her hair frizzing up.Everyone was tired. It being the first day and all Awesomez and I both went along for the ride.
(Lindsey feeling a little bit better about her hair and anxious for the first day of high school)
The drive went smoothly and by the time Awesomez and I got home, the sun was shinning. She went in to have some eggs while I stood on the porch with Irish. I closed my eyes and listened. I could hear the sound of cows munching on grass in the pasture. I could actually hear their teeth grinding the grass. The methodical chewing was hypnotizing so I just stood there with the sun on my face listening as Irish bat my leg with his shaggy tail. One of my best friends was having emergency heart surgery because of rip in the first layer of her aorta. As I watched and listened to the animals peacefully in the yard grazing, wandering and snorting I felt calm and full of hope.
(Lloyd hanging with the boys)
During the day, I puttered around doing things that needed to be done to keep Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey moving forward. We’d gotten our first online orders and I had to pack some boxes and get them out after school and before gymnastics. I waited for word about the surgery, but no call came.
I opened a letter that began, “We love your clip!” It was from Kevin Macdonald about some film I shot, “summerday” being accepted for consideration in the movie “Life In A Day”, a Ridley Scott film. Ridley Scott and Kevin Macdonald are you kidding me? The only thing better would be if it was Caleb Deschanel but then again I’m biased. I was so excited I couldn’t believe it. Norton, Midge, Franklin and Lloyd could be at Sundance? Enclosed were releases and instructions on how and where to send the film. Thrilled beyond words I decided to send it immediately. Don’t put off ‘til tomorrow and all of that. Pulling up the rough cut I couldn’t believe my eyes. The footage wasn’t there. Gone. “source code missing” Frantically, I began searching the entire computer. Looking for hours until I finally realized it had been “replaced” due to a problem I had encountered when I putting together Henry’s 2nd Sweet Miracle Honey infomercial. Deflated, despondent and still worried about the surgery, I ate a multi-grain pancake to settle down. I was slurping down some coffee when I heard the geese go crazy just outside the front door. I have coyote hysteria so I slammed my “farm girl” cup on the stone counter and went running outside just in time to see the three remaining girls: Mabel, Linda and LuAnn coming around the porch from the garden to join Lloyd and Cleveland who were standing in front of the living room windows on the hill overlooking the pasture. I breathed a sigh. They were only playing their version of Marco Polo.
"Summerday" reprise
The rest of day had slipped away and I unbelievably was already behind my own schedule on the first day of school. I had several errands to run before picking up the kids and as I glanced at the clock I wondered if I’d have enough time. Hurriedly, I packed up the car with Henry’s second lunch, a snack and his first dinner. Plus a peanut butter and Nutella™ sandwich for Lindsey, the honey, addresses, shipping labels etc as well as everything else I might need for the next seven hours or so. “Lisa, will you put the barn animals away?”
“I guess so, sure.” She called from upstairs.
“If you don’t it’s ok, I just am worried it’s getting darker earlier”.
“No I think I can do it.” Awesomez assured me.
I checked my messages again. No word.
In a rush I pulled the car back careful not to hit the geese who were all standing on the driveway blocking my van. I always worry since the time I ran Lloyd over accidently. That was a harrowing experience and I remain grateful he’s got such a forgiving body and limber neck. I honked for the geese to move their tail feathers and Lloyd accommodated me by waddling up toward the house.
(Rat-bat - aka Bruno, far left Lloyd, Linda, Mabel, LuAnn and Cleveland)
Collecting the kids from their various schools I explained,, “Look, I feel I should warn you before I snap. I am very fragile today so don’t mess with me. I’m waiting for word on my friend's surgery and I’m worried. Really worried. She means the world to me."
“She’s going to be OK mom with as many “Hail Marys as you’ve been saying,” Henry reassured me.
“When you say a prayer, you don’t always get the answer You want,” I pointed out. Moments later, he and Lindsey were taking their mid-afternoon naps and I was alone again with my thoughts.
(Henry sound asleep)
(It seems the first day was harder than Henry thought- he's a little like my friend, Franz - who also can sleep ANYWHERE)
Dropping Henry at gymnastics Lindsey and I headed over to see our friend Aaron at the FedEx. We chatted about how his 3 month-old, Owen Thomas was doing and how Ray, the Mayor of Bubble Blvd. still thought Tom was married to Awesomez.
“That’s Ray,” Aaron snickered to himself as he calculated the cost of each package. Eager to ship my first parcel I stood with Lindsey carefully filling in our customer’s name and addresses on the carbon forms. We about fell over when Aaron called across the store that “Instead of $9.00 for shipping it’s going to cost $75.00 to send the honey to Alaska”.
"75.00 - that blows my mind!" Lindsey yelped.
“Um we’re going to have to rethink this,” I said and Aaron nodded in agreement. We rushed off and made it to the bank just after they closed. Perfect.
On the way home, the skies opened up and it began to feel like the Pacific Northwest again. I checked my messages about 18 more times and left 3 messages before we got home.
The barn was closed which meant Awesomez had done her job. I was impressed. We walked in the house and I looked to see if there were any messages about the surgery. There was. “I just wanted to let you know I just found out the surgery went well. The stint is in and working.” Relief swept over me like a wave.
“Hello?” Awesomez called as she made her way down the stairs.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Lindsey hollered.
“Where’s Henry?” She asked emphatically.
“Why?” I asked. “Henry! Henry! Henry!” I yelled.
“What?” came a muffled reply.
“Where are you?”
“Um Mom, I’m in the bathroom.” I looked over at Awesomez and raised my eyebrows.
"He's in the bathroom."
"With his computer," Lindsey added snidely.
"I need to talk to EVERYONE together," Awesomez said in a somber tone.
“Hurry up!” I called to Henry.
“Hurry up?”
“Yes! Hurry!”
“I don’t know how to hurry,” he cried out.
“Just hurry!”
“Mom! Really?”
“Really!”
“Oh my gosh Mom,” Henry said incredulously.
“Forget him,” I said. “What is it?”
“I want to talk to you. All of you.” She looked around nervously. I noticed for the first time there were tears in her eyes. Just then the phone rang. Lindsey, always at the ready grabbed it on the first ring.
“Oh, hello Lisa,” Lindsey responded in her chirpy teenage voice. Almost as the words came out of Lindsey’s mouth, Awesomez who was striding across the floor grabbed the phone out of Lindsey’s hand, and said “hey Lis-,” as she walked out the back door closing it behind her leaving Lindsey and me staring at each other completely confused.
When Awesomez emerged from the porch I couldn’t help but ask, “Who died? Someone died didn’t they?” She didn’t say a thing. I looked around the room, first for Vivian then Luther. “Where’s Luther?”
“He’s right here,” Lindsey confirmed.
“And finally Rat-bat?” Henry pointed to a pile of blankets. I knew Irish was on the porch. By this time Henry had joined us in the family room.
There are moments in your life when you can just feel everything is going to change. This was one of those moments.
Awesomez took a deep breath “Just tell us,” I said quietly. She nodded and began.
“I went out to put the barn animals away around oh I’d say about 6:00, right after I ate. I didn’t want to wait for dark because I knew it would take me awhile and I knew too they might be uncomfortable with me since they don’t really know me. Well, when I went outside I saw the geese by the barbecue and Lloyd wasn’t there.”
“What?” I asked.
“Lloyd! Not Lloyd!” Henry said distraught.
“Oh my gosh, Momma are you sure? Do you know which one he is?” Lindsey said in disbelief.
She went on, “Lloyd wasn’t there. He’s the one with the pink band around his leg right?” I closed my eyes. Awesomez hadn't stopped crying since she'd begun to speak. "I didn’t want to tell you this. I know how special he was to you. He wasn’t a goose he was a pet. So I went looking for him. I went down by the apple trees and the pasture. It was pouring rain. I walked out by the creek and the pond. I didn’t find anything.”
“Not feathers? Or a body,” I asked as stoically as I could muster. I didn’t’ want to fall apart. I knew how hard this must be for her to tell me. After all I’ve delivered enough bad news in my time.
“No, nothing. I must have looked for more than forty-five minutes. I figure he must have just been snatched by coyote in broad daylight.”
“In broad daylight, that’s really bad.” I said the realization bubbling up. I couldn’t believe it. “He was here when I left this afternoon,” I said thinking of his fluffiness. His soft feathers and how he used to nibble at my neck.
“Are you sure?” She questioned. "Was he here when you left?"
“I’m sure, he crossed in front of the van. I saw all of them.” I could barely grieve for my friend, Lloyd, because even though he was gone now I had a barn full of animals I had to worry about. The coyote have now gotten three birds. They’re going to keep coming back picking them off one by one. Unless we do something,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes. Was he really gone? I hoped against hope he was just hiding. I thought of the time when he had lured Irish away from the rest of the gaggle. “I’m sure he lured the coyote away from his girls. He sacrificed himself for his family.”
“Poor Lloyd,” Lindsey said quietly. "Momma, I can't believe you're crying more than anyone. You don't even like the geese."
"I know, but Lloyd was a huge personality on the farm. I don't even know the damn goats names still. Of course, I know Norton and Midge and Miracle, but Lloyd was special. He didn't bite, he was always friendly. And I was there when Denise ran over him. I could tell then she loved him. I've been crying since I realized he was gone. I can't stop."
Funny thing was, I didn’t cry, nor did Henry. This surprised Awesomez who hugged me. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this. I didn’t want to call you and have you have to drive home knowing. I know how much you loved him. I really looked everywhere I could think of, but eventually I knew I had to put the rest of the barn away.”
Henry just sat there saying nothing. “You’re in shock,” she said softly. Henry replied,
“I’ve experienced a lot of death” and just continued to sit there emotionless. The room seemed to close in on me. I moved into the mudroom grabbed a jacket off a hook and stuffed my arms through the sleeves. It wasn’t until I was almost to the barn door that I realized I had a phone in my pocket and called Tom.
“Lloyd, my sweet Lloyd was taken by coyote.”
“Not Lloyd,” he gasped.
“I know it’s silly to love a goose this way. He was just a dumb bird, but I really, really am so sad he’s gone. I can’t believe it. I guess that’s why I’m on my way to the barn. He was so soft and full of kisses for me.”
“It’s not silly. He’s always been attached to you. He followed you everywhere. He’s always cuddled in your arms, knocked on the door when he wanted you to come outside. He’s always been special.”
“Maybe he got away,” I hoped. “I mean I know he’s dead, but I can’t help but hope. First Clara and now him. I don't think it's any accident the parents are gone.”
“And that chicken,” Tom tallied. “I’m really disappointed in Miracle.”
“Me too, but you know she’s changed. She foundered which means her legs are different. She’s wearing that muzzle which makes her more vulnerable. She’s outside at night fending off predators and not sleeping. And she has a huge amount of land to cover. She can’t do it all.”
“I guess,” he conceded reluctantly. “We’ve just never lost animals like this before.”
“I know. Things have changed. It’s the end of Camelot. I feel like the coyote are a blood-thirsty gang bringing a reign of terror over the farm. It may sound dramatic, but I mean it. I can’t let anyone out, of the barn. Frank might be next. The coyotes know they can get a meal here and it’ll be like we’re running a lunch buffet.”
“You’re right. They’ll start with the birds, but that won’t feed a pack for long and the goats are just as vulnerable,’ he reminded me.
“I know.” I said putting my hand on the door to the barn. I didn’t want to go inside, but I had to. “I’ll call you later, I have to go in the barn now,” I practically whispered as I stepped inside.
The barn was dark. Running my fingers along the weathered plywood wall I flipped on light after light. Tonight darkness was not my friend. Peering in the first pen I saw Frank and Silence huddled together. They were safe. The ducks were resting in a cluster. Safe. I took a double take. 1-2-3-4-5. One was missing. Looking up I saw some chickens fluttering about in the rafters.
(Franklin and Silence in their pen)
(the ducks with some rogue chickens)
Finally, I walked over to the goat and sheep pen where the remaining geese were. Sitting in pairs Christina & Rachel and Riley & Alexander looked up at me wide-eyed. The sheep looked like glowing cotton balls in the far corner of the enclosure. I made myself look over at the geese. There was only one white goose now. I choked back a sob. Mabel, Cleveland, Linda, and LuAnn started honking at me. Cleveland stood up tall the way Lloyd always did. Tears started dripping. I hoped for a moment Awesomez had been wrong and that it was Lloyd in the pen. Fumbling with the chain to the pen I undid it and went in. Sitting on the ground I looked and my heart fell. It was Cleveland.
I missed my friend. I missed the way he looked at me - he touched my heart that silly goose. I knew the barn wouldn't ever feel the same. I had thought he'd be around for so many years to come. I felt I'd let him down somehow. Selfishly, I was so relieved I'd followed my instincts and asked Awesomez to put the barn away before dark. If I hadn't and I'd come home I'd have always wondered if I could have prevented it. I knew I had to push past the loss. Lloyd had died to save his family and I needed to protect them now. All of the animals were depending on me. What I needed was a fence. Good I thought, now at least I had a plan. I would build a fence and protect my charges. A plan makes you feel in control. I needed to feel in control, especially as I heard the yips of the pack somewhere in the hills.
(And then there were four)
I locked up the barn and called Tom, “ There's a duck missing too. I think I know what we can do. We need a fence. If we had a fence down to the pasture then Miracle and Edward could be made to stay up close again and protect the remaining animals.”
“True.” I could hear him thinking it through.
“I’m sure Alexis would help me if I can get the wood,” I said confidently. “Now I just have to figure out how to get the wood.”
I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking I heard Lloyd outside. I wondered if maybe he’d gotten away and was hiding. My sister said, “Maybe like in so many other sayings, there’s truth in ‘wild goose chase’ and maybe just maybe he got away.”
The coyotes hooted and yipped and terrorized the pasture all night. Determined not to lose any more animals tonight, Irish and I hopped in the van with a flashlight and patrolled the pasture. I was worried about Lucky sitting lame in the field so vulnerable.Miracle was apparently on sabbatical. With Irish to keep me warm and completely exhausted, I fell asleep on the sofa around 3:00AM.
Awesomez woke me with sad eyes and cup of hot coffee. This was a new day. I looked outside by the barn doors - just in case. But sometimes prayers aren't answered the way you want.
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.
(Farming Today - Henry with Norton his laptop and Midge)
I dreamed of having pigs for a long, long time but in all
honesty they were quickly turning into my biggest nightmare.They didn’t listen, I couldn’t herd
them and I couldn’t catch them. From the first day we brought them home they
escaped so we kept them penned up in our unfinished utility room. They were
comfortable I guess, but I felt completely guilty. I’d told the guys I bought
them from that they’d have plenty of grass and freedom to roam. Instead they
were crammed together like something out of “Spirited Away”.
Tom suggested I try and take them down to the fenced area
we’d made by the shop for Deli. That sounded like a pretty good idea. The fence
was buried under the surface so they couldn’t crawl out. It was after all such
a short distance and they needed some fresh air so I got some pig feed and
tried to lead the pigs down to the dog run. It was a disaster of epic
proportions.
(Henry and Midge in the utility room/barn)
Norton went squealing one way and Midge the other. They
sounded as though I was running slaughterhouse 5. What might have taken 2
minutes took me more than 40 to get them to go less than fifty feet. I called
Tom crying.
“I think I may have made a terrible mistake, I don’t think I
want pigs”. I sniffed.
“WHAT?”
“Well, it’s just that I get the sheep and the goats and even
the geese.If they don’t do what I
want, I can grab them or feed them something to lure them. The pigs, the pigs
are different. I can’t even hug them. They won’t let me cuddle them. Midge
won’t let me touch her, Norton’s better but I can’t get them to do anything. I
was running around like an idiot trying to get them in the dog run and I fell
and they almost got a way again. I think I made a horrible mistake. Do you
think we can take them back?”
“Uh huh well, first I think you should have a cup of coffee
and calm down. You need to give it some time. You’re just getting to know them.
You’ll figure them out. You always do. You have a great way with the animals.
They follow you everywhere. Remember when the ducks came? You were out there
every night chasing Harpo, Lucille and Carol all over the garden swearing and yelling
about duck soup,” he reminded me.
“Oh I have a cup of coffee – you kidding me? And I hope
you’re right. Everyone says how smart those ding-dang pigs are and that they’re
like dogs, but they’re not like dogs. They are not at all like dogs. No dogs
I’ve had anyway. If I’d had a puppy for as long as I’ve had those stupid pigs
it would come to me and want my attention. Those pigs don’t give a wit about
me. I won’t have any trouble eating bacon” I spat. I thought I could hear
laughing and some muffled mention about me not wanting a boy when Henry was
born on the other end of the phone. “What? Did you have something to say Mister
City Pants who’s not here dealing these ham hocks?”
“No, no, no, no. But are you drinking decaf?”
“I sound like it don’t I?” I breathed. “I’m just so scared I really screwed up
this time”.
“Just give it some time, give it some time,” Tom chanted.
For weeks the pigs lived in the utility room. I went in and
sat with them feeding them treats and trying to scratch them. Midge would have
none of it. Norton came around to the idea that food was involved.Sporadically, Henry and I managed to
herd them down to the dog run for a day out. The pigs being smart learned the
routine fairly quickly. In fact, after awhile they would run a head and wait for
me to open the gate. Henry went one step further and opened all the gates at
once and watched them run ahead and put themselves away. I had to admit I could
see that they were getting manageable, but really there still wasn’t any
interaction.
(Norton and Irish)
(the barnyard is fascinated by the piglets)
(In case anyone is interested - collars do not work on pigs)
(Christina and Lloyd investigate - the new kids on the block)
One day, I bought ta bag of whole corn and gave the pigs a
little bit before trying to lead them back to the house.
“Soooooweeee! Soooooweeee!” Squealed Norton.
“Suey? Really? Norton, I thought farmers just said suey but
I didn’t know pigs said suey.” I was shocked I’d never ever known pigs actually
made a soo-wee noise. In the movies it’s always the farmer saying suey.
Snortin’ Norton was now teaching me new things. He didn’t seem to care though
he just munched nosily not letting Midge get even a bite of the corn. Pig
Nirvana. “C’mon Norton don’t be sucha…” I caught myself and smiled. I was kinda
getting getting used to the chubby things.
One Saturday morning I couldn’t find Irish. “Henry do you
know where Irish is?”
“Nope,” Henry answered in his new teenage zombie fashion. My
heart skipped a beat as I ran to the back door. Irish can open the back door if
it’s not locked. If he got out he could hurt the piglets. The door was ajar as
I bolted through calling, “Irish! Irish! Big Boy!” I was terrified I’d find
some sort of blood bath or maybe Irish chasing the pigs into a complete frenzy,
but I realized as I rushed around the yard I didn’t hear any squealing. As I
called I finally considered Irish could be in trouble. Norton might have bitten
one of Irish’s legs and cracked a bone. “Irish!! Come!” I screamed again. I
could hear movement from the back of the yard. I figured Irish was chasing
those poor scared little piglets to death. Then the bushes moved and I saw a
little piggy nose peek through the ferns, then a little bigger piggy nose and
finally a big old doggy snout and a wagging tail. The three of them just looked
at me a moment and went back to a merry game of chase. Irish had made friends.
From then on, Irish spent his days with Norton and Midge.
He’d nip at them, Norton would nip at him and they’d romp around the yard
playing. Until one day – the fighting Irish put his Notre Dame moves on Norton
and blew his knee out.
After that, Irish had to be confined once again to the front
porch awaiting surgery. Leaving Norton and Midge to each other. Social beings
they got lonely, and every time Norton saw Irish through the back door he tried
to break in the house with Midge close behind.
(Irish relaxes- like it or not- NOT)
Over time, we’d brought Midge and Norton out in the main
yard with the baby gate, so everyone could get a good look at them. And they
could get used to everyone else. Now, I figured it was about time to let them
out for a real snout to snout meet and greet with the rest of the barnyard.
Dean, Henry, Phoebe and I were on hand just in case something went awry. We
were afraid our timid little swine might go squealing into the hills if one of
the other animals charges them.
(Henry, Phoebe and Dean keep a close eye on Norton and Midge)
(the sheep are very curious - as to what this new guy)
What I found were two extremely confident pigs who
apparently had read Animal Farm and clearly felt all animals are equal – except
for pigs who are entitled to be in charge. The entire barnyard was a gawk.
Standing back they gave these swine a wide birth.
Norton despite my fears Norton took Gnatalie on. There was
kicking, pushing and head butting. My stress level went way up but calm cool
and collected Norton went unscathed. As if that wasn’t bizarre enough, itty-bitty
Midge felt she needed to teach Andy a lesson.
(Norton and Gnatalie - work things out)
(Norton and Gnatalie in a barnyard brawl)
(Abe and Midge)
(Vivian and Norton relax a little)
(Midge and Gnatalie have some girl time)
After that we let the pigs out for a little while each day. They
got the hang of the routine pretty quickly and soon running ears flapping when they heard me call their names.I was enjoying the best of both worlds. The pigs were out in
the yard by day and in the house at night. Until they decided they wanted to
live in the barn with everyone else. And leave me behind.
As I left my babies in the barn for the first time I
wondered if this was a bit how I would feel when Henry moved out.
(I can not explain the lack of sound - except that Sony hates Macs)
We’d barely checked into the motel after seeing the pigs, when Quinn pulled out a green box and opened it up.
“Henry
we’re going to get rid of that dark fuzzy thing above your lip. Right now!”
Henry
ran and hid behind the curtain while Tom flopped down on the bed. “ I like Margret
Suzanne, but Henry’s suggestion of Midge suits her,” Tom announced.
“Midge
for the midget. I was called Gidget for a long time,” I reflected as Quinn
pulled Henry from the beige curtains and into the bright sterile light by the
long white counter. I looked over as she began pressing strips of wax across
his lip and between his eyes.
“What’s with the eyebrows?” Henry
demanded.
“You’re
on your way to a mono-brow. Girls hate that.” She’d uttered the magic words –
girls hate that- and she knew it. I glanced at her. She was smiling knowing
there wouldn’t be any more struggling; the spider had subdued the victim. “You
need to wait a couple of minutes while it sets up,” she instructed.
“He’s
completely out matched,” Tom whispered. Nodding in agreement I settled in and watched
in disbelief as the movie “Megladon” plodded along. To be clear, this is the
type of movie you would only watch in a motel killing time. Or on a date in
college, bringing to mind the second worst movie I’ve ever seen. “Q” a 1982 film
about an overgrown flying lizard landing on rooftops in New York
“Yeowwww!”
Henry screamed like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
“Oh
stop it!” Quinn commanded looming over him. “I do this all the time. It just
stings a little you’re a drama king just like your mom said”.
“Mom!”
Henry squealed.
“It’s
true,” I confirmed.
“It
is,” Tom concurred, “but you do look red and splotchy”.
(Q, the Winged Serpent)
He did look raw, and for a moment I
thought of getting some ice from the vending machine, but by now it was the
tail end of “Megladon” and I didn’t want to miss the part where the giant
Octopus, his mortal enemy, which had thawed out of a glacier, strangled
Megladon.
After the Octopus and Megladon predictably
sank to the ocean floor for about six scenes, I thought we’d turn out the light
and get some rest. We were here for Henry’s gymnastic meet. But no, it seems
the only thing worse than Megladon is “Piranha” where the toothy little fellas
get so big in South America they leap out of the water and eat helicopters. I
turned over and drifted off as Henry, Tom and Quinn were screaming things like
“Oh come on!”
“Doesn’t he think he’s going to be
eaten?”
I woke up bright and early, got up
and went to make some coffee. I opened the coffee pouch and placed the coffee
pod in the tray, but when I went to pour water in the well of the coffee maker, I realized we didn’t have an
actual coffee pot in the room. This couldn’t be. There was not a minute to
lose. I threw my hair in a clip and I marched down to the lobby. Calmly as I
could, without a morning cup of coffee, I explained the problem. The young girl
smiled nervously back at me sizing up me and my mint green flannels. I could
see she was worried she had a “situation” on her hands and quickly began
searching for a carafe. I could imagine Quinn’s reaction to my pajama clad
lobby appearance, but this was a desperate situation and after all I was
presentable and my toes were freshly polished.
“I’m so, so sorry she said trying
to manage me, you can have some of the coffee from the breakfast buffet while
you wait. I’ll go to an unoccupied room and get you one,” she assured me. In
the interim I did indeed pour myself a cup or two and grabbed one for Tom. The
nervous girl with the bob did indeed return in a timely manner with a perfectly
suitable glass pot and a couple of extra coffee packets. Whew. Crisis averted.
(Quinn and Henry before the meet- Henry's face isn't that red - in this picture)
Henry began his meet with a bang.
He got the highest score he’s ever gotten on floor. The next rotation he tackled his
arch nemesis, the pommel and once again he received his highest score. Ever. Tom
and I were busy calculating what he might end the day with if he just stayed
even close to his average scores. But as I’ve learned recently, don’t count
your turkey eggs before they hatch.
Henry bombed on rings getting
almost two points lower than normal. Next was the vault. And he delivered, not
his best, but pretty ding-dang good. I could hardly breathe as he began his
parallel bar routine. I heard people in the crowd talking about the routine,
but I was afraid to hope. It seemed good, really good as I waited nervously for
the score. Good? When I saw Henry’s score flashed on the scoreboard in red
lights I wanted to leap out of my seat. “That’s my boy who did that,” I
muttered to myself. He’d gotten a 14.75. We were thrilled. Could this be
happening? Could this be Henry’s meet? Tom began calculating All Around
potential scores scenarios again. He’s always doing the math.
(perhaps it's time for a different video camera? Technical difficulties have plagued me long enough)
(Henry doing his parallel routine)
“If Henry gets anywhere close to
his lowest score on this event he’ll still get his highest All Around score
ever,” Tom informed me. I was sure he’d be in the top three on the podium if he
did that. But there I was counting my turkey eggs again. Henry did an incorrect
sequence on the high bar because he was scared. He’d fallen a couple of weeks
ago on the high bar and hit his feet doing his dismount. So despite our
calculation, it was not to be, Henry ended the year in a heap of tears.
“I don’t even want to stay for the
awards,” he lamented.
“You’re staying,” Tom laid down the
law. “You’re going to support your team and you know you had a great meet for
the most part. If you’d ended the day with your parallel routine, you’d be
feeling great right now. I’m sure you’ll get something on p-bars,” Tom said
pouring the daddy on.
“Hey, where are you and Quinn
going?” Henry demanded as he saw us trying to sneak out.
“Mmm-um, we’re going to go and pick up
the piggy’s while you and your father do the award thing,” I told him. As we
made our way out of the gym, one of the mothers stopped me.
“Denise, is Henry OK? We were kind
of worried about him when we saw the blotchy spots on his face. Is that from
the pneumonia?” She asked concerned.
“Oh, no. He’s fine,” I said glaring
at Quinn. “That’s nothing. Really,” I assured her as we escaped on our mission.
It was a maddening hour each way to
get the pigs and there was no way around it. We tried a short cut that ended up
being a long cut down one-way streets in Portland. However, with our trusty
cell phone, Google Maps and my sister who’s been lost more times than any human
being I know, we made it. “You better call Pea and Henry and tell them to get
something to eat until we get back,” I instructed Quinn. You do not need to
tell Quinn twice to make a phone call, it’s in her DNA, she gets it from her
maternal side.
“Tom said Henry got six medals. One
in every event except high bar. He got second in parallel bars. Some kid got a
.1 higher then him, and he came in 9th for All Around,” Quinn
relayed.
“He must be feeling better,” I
exclaimed relieved.
(Henry - second place -parallel bars Level 6 - Region II)
“And HE didn’t want to stay for the
awards,” Quinn mocked. “Ridiculous. He does look really red, don’t tell him I
said that. Hey how about Barbara-Q? Get it? Barbecue, Barbara-Q," Quinn giggled at her own joke.
"I get it, and it is cute in a meat-eater-sort-of-way".
The pigs turned out to be good
travelers. The only sound you could here was "Hamilton’" snorting. It was silly
to here snorting from a pig in my van as we drove through Portland.
“Are you kidding me, we’re going to
put Irish in here too? Are you going to seduce him?” Quinn asked.
“What? Am I going to seduce him?” I
asked flabbergasted. What were they teaching middle schoolers these days? What
kind of talk was this?
“You know where you make him
sleepy?” She said innocently.
“Oh, you mean sedate him. Yes, I am
going to sedate him,” I laughed hearing Gilda Radner in the back of my mind,
“That’s very different”.
We intently listened to or book
while the kids rode with pigs in their lap’s most of the way. That is until we
loaded the big boy, Irish. We’d called Jim at the border and he’d slipped Irish
a mickey so he’d be nice and sleepy for the ride.
(Quinn and her lap pig)
(The little girl and Henry ride home)
“He doesn’t even seem to notice
them, The big boy is so tired and just wants to snuggle,” Quinn cooed. Then flatly, “Can we turn the book back on?”
“Sure,” I said as we headed north
on the dark road. Everyone else fell asleep. Quinn hung in the longest trying
to listen to the story. Tom kept forcing his eyes open every once in a while.
“You OK?” He’d ask, as he’d reach
out and touch my arm. I was amused as I stopped for a cup of coffee at the Arco™
near Alderwood Mall. What was he going to do if I said “No,” he was certainly
in no position to drive. As I drove along in the quiet of the night, Awesomez’s
remarks crept back into my mind and irked me all over again. She’d said:
“Hamilton, Hammie? Like in ‘Toy
Story’?” Like Hammie in Toy Story, Like
Hammie in Toy Story.
“Toy Story! I am not going to have
people think I named my pig after a character in “Toy Story”,” I said to no one
in particular.
The tires crunched on the gravel as
we pulled in to the driveway, Tom woke up like the dogs do when I get off the
freeway. I hopped in and out and opened the gate. Tom got out after I drove in
and closed it. Slowly we wound along the driveway in front of the pasture, as Tom
sang softly holding my hand.
Lindsey was determined to take a
picture of every animal before she went home. Most of the morning she was busy snapping pictures.
She loved Frank. Probably because Lindsey, a born chatterbox, likes to talk and
although all the animals patiently listen, Frank talks back. So Lindsey would
scream and Franklin would gobble, and Lindsey would scream and Frank would
gobble, Lindsey would scream and Frank would gobble and so on and so on and so
on.
(Lindsey and Franklin - chat)
While bustling around the farm, we were
surprised to find that despite the chaos, Sir Edward settled down for an
afternoon nap. He and Miracle have taken to spending their chilly winter
evenings underneath the overgrown apple trees, but I guess with predators
prowling about looking for a late night snack, they don’t sleep too soundly. So
there they were equine in the sunshine.
(Edward under the Kubota barn- soaking in the sun)
(Miracle is sound asleep)
Edward relaxed and fell into a deep sleep completely
ignoring the other animals as they enjoyed their noon meal. Lindsey and I crept
around watching him. We giggled as he wiggled and wriggled.
(Edward is sound asleep in the middle of lunch)
“What do you think horses dream about when they take a
little horsie snooze? Look Linds, he’s dreaming of his glory days on the track”
And Edward started to kick his legs like he was taking off at Del Mar. Lindsey
ran too for her camera. When she got back she caught what must have been the
finish line.
“Oh, at least I got some of it,” she smiled. "He was so cute,
I’ve never seen a horse do that,”
“Neither have I,” I whispered.
(a groggy Edward is disturbed from his nap)
(Sir Edward and Carl -the rooster formerly known as Cluck-Cluck)
Everyone was around the island in the kitchen: Tom, June, Awesomez, Carly, Amy, Henry, Lindsey and me. We were fixing food and chatting when I realized I’d barely spoken to Henry about his time away.
“So Hen how was camp? I’ve barely heard a word about it.”
“It was good” Henry said flatly.
“It was good? That’s it? You’re kidding right?”
“Well, I met some fun guys and we played truth or dare. Brett McClure the Silver Medalist was my coach. I learned how to do a back whip. Oh and Brett tagged me as a hard worker and sportsman, which means I’m invited to go to a special week of camp, but I know I probably can’t”.
(Henry playing Truth or Dare - wondering why he picked the dare-)
(Jayden)
(Dylan)
(Trevor)
(Henry and Olympic Silver Medalist, Brett McClure)
(Woodward West Week 5 - Henry is the third from the left and does a floor pass at about 54 seconds - Brett McClure does his break dancing at 1:09)
“Wow! I am so proud of you”.
“Tell your mother about your girlfriend” Tom insisted.
“Yes tell her about sushi” June laughed almost maniacally.
“Susha!” Henry yelled “Not sushi!”
"Tell her about sushi and the tree!” June urged.
"Susha! not SUSHI!!" Henry hysterically corrected June as she winked from across the room This had obviously been going on some time.
“What? Tell me” I asked as everyone gathered around.
“Well, there was this girl” Henry slurred.
"Sushi" June interjected with glee.
"Susha!" Henry corrected again.
"Is she Japanese?" I asked
"No she's Russian, but she lives near San Francisco"
“A camp romance? Hmm” I said delighted to finally be past Kanesha.
Tom sidled up beside me and leaned in. Under his breath I could hear, “those old movies seem to be paying off big time”.
“Well, yeah. See she liked me and her friends came to me without her permission and told me that she wanted to go to the dance with me. She heard about what they said to me and on the day of the dance she locked herself in the bathroom. So I climbed up a tree, crawled on a branch until I got close enough to the window to talk to her and told her I wanted to go to the dance with her” Henry explained.
“So what did she say?” I had to know as if I didn’t already.
“She said yes. Duh. Her friends got all gooey when I did that”
"No one ever climbed a tree for me" June moaned.
"Or me" Awesomez concurred.
"Me either" Amy complained as I thought about all the insane things Tom has done for me. Henry has a long way to go to catch up with his father who flew half way across the country for dinner on the anniversary of my assault - just so I wouldn't be alone, but I kept that to myself for now.
("The winter is cold for those with no warm mem'ries" - An Affair to Remember - Debra Kerr)
“Was the dance fun?”
“Uhh, we didn’t go”
“You didn’t go? After all of that?” June couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t heard that part.
“We walked around camp instead and talked. Her favorite color is blue and her birthday is three days after Christmas. Her friends hid in the bushes and stalked us. Susha went over and punched one of them which I really liked,” Henry concluded as he went off to watch some stupid episode of “Family Guy”.
“Pure Clark Gable.” I said to Tom.
(It Happened One Night)
“ Not Jimmy Stewart?”
“Nahh, he’d have fallen out of the tree, same with Cary Grant”.
(Me -sanding the landing- stairs to the attic apartment)
I’d done all the research on what to look for when candling goose eggs, I was prepared and anxious, but I waited patiently, which isn't like me, however Henry wanted to be there for the big event. So I sanded the day away trying to get the landing ready for painting.
Henry had begged Tom into changing his flight so he could have his dad be at just one wrestling match this season. He wanted Tom to see him win. Tom couldn't do anything but comply when he looked into that puppy dog face with the lip jutting out.
Excited would be an understatement of Henry's fervor. He was amped. Making the disappointment of his first wrestling loss to an eighth grader, six inches taller even more bitter. My boy was beaten by a kid who was all arms and legs, but not with out a struggle. Although the coach said he thought it was a bad call, there was humiliation, embarrassment, a river tears and endless apologies to daddy for letting him down.
“You didn’t let me down. Sure, I wanted to see you win, but I just wanted to see you wrestle. I love you. Some kid loses every match, you’re not going to win them all.” He said as he grabbed Henry in a choke-hold. “Does this feel familiar?” He said laughing and soon Henry was laughing. Nana took us all for a light St. Patrick's Day dinner of corned beef and cabbage at Skylarks before we headed home to candle. (Cleveland charging- note T-Rex stance)
(Miracle and Riley watch the action)
Everything was ready, the box was in place, but I was nervous and on edge. I’d read how the slightest mishap could ruin the air pocket and cause the gosling in the egg to die. I didn’t know if we’d see any cracks, I was supposed to look for cracks. I was concerned we wouldn’t know what we were seeing when we saw it.
(empty egg)
First we checked, Matilda’s eggs. They were cold to the touch and fairly easy to determine whether they had anything at all in them or not. Anything iffy we marked and returned to her nest. Honestly, after looking at the eggs I don't think she'll hatch more than one of her nineteen eggs. We decided to hold off on the Psycho Sitters, Ruthie and Mabel who seem to be pulling each other’s neck feathers out. We’d put almost all the ganders in with them and we didn’t want to deal with the situation while we were learning.
During the evening, Henry was at times less than careful with the eggs and I have to say, I was perhaps too quick to overreact. I didn't want anything to happen to the eggs and I didn't want Henry to have to feel responsible, but in retrospect I realize my voice tonight was cutting at times, hurtful to a fragile boy of eleven who'd just lost his first wrestling match. Maybe I'm more self-aware it being Lent, I apologized thinking I'd have to work on my tone. I could be softer a more marshmallow less prickly mom-more Clara less Matilda.
(neck feathers getting taken out)
(some of the eggs we removed)
(so there was no mistake we wrote "gosling" on the good eggs)
(Lloyd roamed about while we worked)
(egg with something)
This experience was a little like when I was pregnant. I’d read all the books “What To Expect When You’re Expecting” and every other book my friends, my sister, and my mother handed me. But it wasn’t until I was in bed one night when I felt the wiggle, the first flutter. The feeling I’d swallowed a gold fish. It was magical. A life was really inside me. I'd known it, but now I knew it. That’s how it felt today when we checked Clara’s eggs. Up until then, they were just eggs, now they're rare Cotton Patch goslings waiting to hatch.
I haven’t disobeyed lately. I’ve towed the line. I haven’t gone looking for any extra animals, but as we were driving home from school, there he was. I stopped and as luck would have it I happened to have a lead rope in the car. Getting out quietly, I stood in the road and called. “Hey Sweetie. Come here now.”
He looked up turned his head, perked his ears and began cantering toward me.
(listening)
(coming to me!)
(cutie)
“Mom! It’s like he knows you.” Henry called out the window.
He stopped in front of me breathing heavily. We stood there looking at each other sizing each other up. Carefully, I inched closer with the lead rope in my hand and stroked his face. I reached my arms around his neck. As I leaned in, I could feel the heat of his body. He was warm and sweaty breathing hard. I just about had the lead rope clipped when he decided he’d had enough and bolted. Trotting off to the pasture down the road. I didn’t follow. I couldn’t keep up with a horse and I didn’t want to spook him into running somewhere unsafe. So I gave up.
I didn’t think another thing about it until this morning. As we drove to school, I glanced over and saw him again. Standing out in the same open pasture he’d run to the other day. I knew he didn’t belong there. I wanted to stop and talk to him, but we were late for school it was snowing like crazy and the roads were icy, truly I didn’t have time to chase a horse. On rare occasions, I can be sensible.
Turning back onto Mosquito Lake Road after dropping Henry off, I called Alexis so I had a safety net since the snow was getting deep.
(Mosquito Lake Road)
“If I’m not home in thirty minutes I’m stuck come find me.”
“I’ll be there.” Alexis promised. Driving slowly, I made my way toward home. And there he was standing on someone’s front lawn. I stopped in the middle of the road. Seeing a man I called,
“Is that your horse?”
“Nope. This is my parents’ house.”
“I’ve got a lead rope.” I got out of the car. Walked up to my friend and this time he allowed me to slip my lead rope around his neck. We eyed each other. I wanted to snuggle him, but self-conscious I let the man take charge. After all, I hadn’t been properly introduced.
(on the way home)
“I think he may belong down here.” He called over his shoulder as we started walking down the road. “Hey!” He called to someone I couldn’t see. “Is this yours?”
“Yes, he’s mine. He keeps getting out, but I can’t figure out where. I’m supposed to have him put to sleep.”
“What’s his name?” I asked meekly at the news my friend was scheduled for departure.
“Sir Edward, he’s twenty. He keeps wandering off over by those fillies down the road.”
“He’s sweet.” I murmured thinking he had a lot of ride left in him.
(Sir Edward at home)
“You want him?” She asked in an animated pitch. “Really. He’s yours if you want him.” I wanted him. He reminded me of a horse from so many years ago. Kentucky a big apple bottom Quarter horse who used to lie in his stall with me on rainy days. Kentucky was my "Black", a bombproof horse with the personality of a basset hound. I loved him.
My sister was the real rider in the family. She showed, jumped, groomed, braided and did everything there was to do with horses. Her life for many years was at the barn. Me, I rode, but I was a competitive vaulter on the Hidden Hills Equestrian Vaulting team. It’s a little known sport where gymnastics meets trick riding. As a team, we did a demonstration for the Los Angeles Olympics – and it used to be included in the Olympics back in the twenties.
(Here's a sample of equestrian vaulting)
I liked horses and riding, but I didn’t live for horses or riding. Yet, every once in a while I loved a horse. I could feel the connection between Sir Edward and me. I hadn’t looked for love, but there it was in front of me with big brown eyes and long eye lashes looking right through me. (Sir Edward)
“Well, I’ve got to get going, my car is still in the middle of the road.” I said taking my lead rope.
“Where do you live?” She asked.
“The old Marriott place.” I said as if everyone knew where that was.
“Oh, yeah. OK.” She said nodding because everyone knows where that is. “Thanks for your help. Hopefully, he won’t be a problem for much longer.” She said with a laugh.
“No problem.” I said walking away with a hurt heart. I’d call Lisa she’d tell me I couldn’t afford him, but she’d have an idea.
(snowy branch looking out toward the pasture - the pond is beyond the trees on the left)
Today was Henry’s first “Jamboree”, that’s wrestling-speak for a match with a bunch of schools. He didn’t feel well last night, but took some Advil™ and went to bed early vowing not to miss school. In the morning, as we drove to Bellingham, he prattled on about how excited he was and couldn’t wait to get on the bus after school to go with the team. He said the only thing missing was a girl to wave to, but after a sneer from his mother, he acquiesced I would do. After all, a lot of tough athletes wave to their moms.
I walked into the Shuksan Middle School gym. It looked much as you might expect a middle school gym to look and it smelled much like you might expect a middle school gym filled with sweaty middle school boys to smell. I was already wishing I’d stopped for a coffee.
I hate to be late and wasn’t because Tom’s in California and can’t slow me down from there, so I found a front row seat almost dead center. There were two huge mats taped together with big giant circles on them and a kid spreading disinfectant on them with a mop.
(cleaning-up the nasty sweat and grime)
Streams of dads, and granddads filled the gym and of course, there were moms and grandmoms but the audience clearly leaned male. A nice set of grandparents sat next to me, they’d gone through this with their boys and although they were clearly dead set against wrestling for some reason having to do with their son wrapping himself in SaranWrap™ so he’d sweat down to a lower weight class, and hitting his brother when he didn’t win, they were quite friendly and knowledgeable. A good thing, as I knew absolutely nothing about wrestling. Well, except for the names of the Pilgrim brothers who came to Plimoth on the Mayflower named Love and Wrestling. I've always wondered about those Puritains.
I learned matches start from two positions – neutral, where both are standing, and the referee’s position, where one is on hands and knees and the other is on top. They start at neutral and then each get a chance at the referee’s position. Points are given for takedowns, escapes and reversals. There are also backpoints and penalty points, but I’m not clear on those yet. The length of each section is about a minute in middle school and can be up to three in college.
(not gymnastic caliber cartwheels)
The teams warmed up stretching directly in front of me. Most boys could barely touch their toes and many were shall we say zaftig, generously proportioned. This was not gymnastics.
The Jamboree ran on schedule and the referees lined up all the boys smallest to tallest marking their arms with Sharpee™, Henry was 89 (lbs) putting him near the beginning.
(Orange socked gladiator - note to -Grandpa Horn - sorry - bet you never thought you'd see "Miller" in USC colors)
(Henry peering like a hamster into the light - should be wearing his contacts)
I was a little surprised by the spectacle of it. Five pairs of boys each with a referee walked out onto the mat and shook hands. Then an annoying giant buzzer sounded – the size of the sound was on par with the buzzer at a Laker™ game. I could feel it in my teeth. The opponents went at it while the exuberant referees danced around the pair with great speed and agility holding up fingers to allow the score keeper to know who was achieving what number of points. These referees were great entertainment. Diving to the floor and straining to see if both shoulder blades were touching. The mild-mannered informative seniors next to me suddenly transformed into blood-thirsty fans screaming “get ‘em, get em!” and jumping out of their seats during their scrawny 72 pound grandson’s match. I was thoroughly amused. Then my boy came up.
The couple next to me didn’t know he was mine and said they thought the other kid was going to win because he clearly had a better technique. After the match they ate their words citing brute strength and determination. Henry came swaggering over to me very proud.
“Can you believe I won?”
“That was really great how you pummeled that kid. When you slammed him to the ground I was so proud. Next time make him bleed.” I said in my best bloodthirsty mock. “No, that was really great. You seem like you’re having a good time.”
“It was so fun! I got to really own him and no one got mad at me. They cheered for me. If only Mrs.S, the kindergarten teacher, could see me now. She always thought I was too rough. Remember when she had me suspended in first grade and I had to miss the field trip to the tide pool?”
“Forget her, she was always on a power trip. Do you wrestle again?”
“After all the other guys go.” He said excitedly and went off to lock horns with the other reindeer.
(being part of the wrestling team)
(89 pound weakling - not)
I looked at the endless line of scantily clad boys, noting some of them had no business wearing spandex and settled into my seat. First, I busied myself with my Weight Watcher™ tracker. After meticulously noting every bite I’d eaten in the past two days, my eyes began getting heavy. The gym was warm and my blinks got longer, the huddles of movement became a blur and suddenly I my head lurched forward. I couldn’t get too comfortable as the aforementioned buzzer went off every 90 seconds with jarring regularity. Somehow I managed to adapt and rested my eyes for quite sometime, dairy products danced in my head.
(If you take a close look at all the characters in this shot you have to ask yourself - Am I on the set of the Wonder Years?)
Frankly, I almost missed Henry’s second match, but through the Grace of God I woke up just as he was walking on the mat. Wiping the drool from my lips I flipped on the video camera and cheered “C’mon Boo-Boo Bear!” No. I didn’t. I yelled, “Get ‘em Hank!!!” When he was just knee high to an Anatolian Shepherd I used to call him Hankie-Pankie, now it’s his new wrestling name.
Victorious in his second match, Hankie Pankie informed me he was “U.D.” That’s wrestling-speak for undefeated.
Henry announced this morning he needed new black pants and a white button down shirt for his first band performance - tonight. The ones we had were to small and the hand-me-downs from Trevor were still too big.
Why I didn’t think about the idea of an assigned outfit before I don’t know. I was a teacher for Heaven’s sake I’d assigned outfits. Maybe it was because I didn’t get a flyer, or maybe because it didn’t have distinguished name like “Winter Concert” but whatever it was I was caught completely off guard.
Furious at Henry for waiting until the last second and mad at myself for not thinking about it beforehand, I lectured halfway down Mosquito Lake Road on the way to school about responsibility and the importance of lists. A sore throat and three miles later I realized most of my frustration was due to the cost of buying extra clothes he’d never wear again, a long to-do list for today and my recent lack of sleep, none of which are his fault. So I settled down sipped my hot morning coffee and began to figure out how to solve the problem. The problem was I had a full day with cleaning the geese pen, ordering hay I'd left to the last minute as well as other sundry scheduled obligations. I started juggling my day and making phone calls.
Eventually, I called my dad who happened to be going to the mall to buy some things for himself and he had no problem going over to the boys department to pick up the items. I told him exactly what to buy. It seemed simple much easier than I had ever imagined. I regretted the depth of my anger wondering if I wasn't most upset that Henry is just like me. I'd heard my mother's words when I yelled.
I picked Henry up from school. Climbing in the car I could tell he was hesitant. “It's OK I had your grandfather buy some clothes for you.” He gave me a worried look.
“Is that my punishment?”
“No, no.” I laughed. “You do know you’re grandfather. No. I told him exactly what to buy.”
We all met at Lisa’s for dinner. She and I shared a couple of chicken tamales from Trader Joes™ for seven points and everyone else had pasta with Lisa's hearty meat sauce. I examined the items my father purchased. He’d done an excellent job. Henry dressed for the concert and looked great, they fit, but there wasn’t the teeniest bit of extra room. I’d told my father one-size too small. I winced. I hadn’t noticed how much Henry had grown. No matter, the show must go on. I coiffed his hair with a little pomade and we were on our way.
“Are you excited?” I asked as we snaked along the black ocean, the lights from the houses glimmering on the water.
“Yes very.” He said nervously. Funny, I hadn’t expected that answer.
“Do you know the music?”
“I have one song completely memorized.” He smiled at me wringing his hands and pushing up his glasses with his finger. His excitement was infectious. This was a big moment. He’d never performed at school. In kindergarten he was supposed to sing, “Good Things Come in Little Packages” with all the other kindergartners dressed as a presents. He cried and was escorted off the risers. In first grade he was supposed to walk on stage during the Thanksgiving performance. He cried and never actually walked on the stage. In fourth grade he did participate in a Gold Rush musical but all he had to do was wear Tom’s orange plaid shirt and stay in the background. Caitlin Fratkin and Sam Dyke did most of the acting for the class
(Henry and some of the band boys)
(6th grade middle school band)
(Dealing with some immense social crisis -Quinn with Marnie -on left - she plays trumpet in the 7th grade band and the Bellingham Youth Jazz Band)
Lisa, my dad and I sat together in the burgundy molded plastic stackable chairs. Quinn flitted about chit chatting with everyone she happened to see. Unfortunately, Nana was sick and Chris was home with Phoebe who had a fever of 102.7. As the band began warming up Lisa turned to me. “If you’d thought about it, you’d have known they were going to wear black pants with a white shirt. I think that’s the requisite band outfit. That’s what I wore when I was in band. I think that’s what almost every middle school band wears. Dad? I bet that’s what you wore too isn’t it?” Something about what Lisa said struck me. She'd played clarinet, she knew. This was a universal event a tradition. These were the Wonder Years fraught with fear, embarrassment and new beginnings. Middle schools everywhere for generations have had just this kind of performance. Great musicians, mediocre musicians, and completely horrible musicians all began just like this. I looked at the excited faces warming up their instruments. They would all certainly remember this night.
(Warning: I could not edit songs)
After the sixth grade, seventh grade and eighth grades played, we were asked to stay for the “Bellingham Youth Jazz Band”, a group of kids from different schools ranging in age from sixth to twelfth grade who perform a couple dozen times a year. The leader stepped on the stage and addressed the audience.
“Jazz is such an amazing and universal experience. I try to expose these kids to tunes professionals actually play. Last night I was at a jam session here in Bellingham and played a couple of these Duke Ellington songs with an amazing trumpet player just in from Paris…” I looked at my father, legs crossed nodding. He leaned toward me and said, “You know, I did play with that guy last night at the Brewery. He’s good.” Henry seated on my other side glanced over at me.
“Is he talking about Grandpa?”
“Yes, Grandpa played with him at Boundary Bay.” I whispered. Henry sat beaming. Grandpa was going to perform for the kids during Band class on Friday morning.
(Grandpa Horn and the leader of the Bellingham Youth Jazz Band)
After stacking the audience chairs Henry came running up to me, he had heard some kids say they were going to the Colophon Café for ice cream. I was too tired to think about going, but my sister gave me the eyebrow and the do-it-for-your-kid-look. “It is tradition to go out afterward”, she said, “We always went out to the Howard Johnson's”. Dutifully I drove the few blocks to the restaurant reconciling myself to an espresso for the drive home, only to find it dark and deserted. Disappointed I consoled my son with Taco Bell™.
Sipping root beer and crunching on cinnamon twists in the car Henry said, “Mama I don’t think I have a great future in percussion, I was supposed to match the kid next to me, but I didn't. He went fasther than we practiced. In my student review I told my teacher what really, really inspires me, is to try to one day play the horn like my grandfather.” He looked so sweet and innocent sitting there, I tried to take a picture of him in my mind. He was starting down an exciting road neither of us could know where it might lead. The streets of Paris perhaps? I took another sip of the tepid Taco Bell™ coffee and wondered if I could still exchange those clothes for a bigger size. We were definitely going to need them.
On the way home from gymnastics last night Henry and I crossed five different spots where the water was cascading over the highway. He barely noticed because he was busy coloring some project for school by the light of his cell phone. I however had a strained neck by the time we got to Acme. Just before turning onto Mosquito Lake Road, I had Henry call Wayne and let him know we where we were. Just in case. We've already spent one night on the road and so I'm perhaps a little overly cautious at this point.
Despite my fears, we made it home safe and sound. The rain pounded all night long. On edge, I woke-up early and went downstairs to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, feed the dogs and check my email for school closures. Just as I suspected Bellingham was shut down, I called Lisa since I doubted she’d check. I wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t driven in it last night.
(Two by Two they're boarding the Ark)
All we can do is sit inside the house and watch the water rise. The pasture is flooded, the creek along the road has expanded 100 feet. The cows are dry for now, but the pond has been devastated. Water is rushing down from the mountain bringing sediment with it and depositing it in our pond. So in effect our pond is being filled in.
(our pond -- not what it was a day a go - a good thing we don't need water as it is so full of sediment we'd never be able to use it)
(You can see Abbey having to swim this walking path)
(compare with picture below - same place)
(This was a small two foot stream a day or two ago - you can compare to the 30th of December picture - )
(from the creek by road to the fence was a hundred feet)
(Wayne and Abbey wade through the current in the pasture)
I watched the news and saw some guy jet skiing down Iowa Street. We drove to the one lane bridge and were shocked to see there had been a small landslide exactly where Henry and I had parked the night we were trapped in the snow.
Mental note: Next time I’m trapped on an isolated road be sure to park nowhere near a steep hill – if possible.
(The stop sign - is where the front of my car was parked - the small slide on Mosquito Lake Road)
The thing I notice most is the noise. From the moment you step
outside you can hear the roar of sudden streams everywhere rushing down
the mountains to the rivers. The trees, logs and debris piling up.
The rain continues.
(about two months ago - same place as video - note no logs just stones on right)
We all got up early and fed the animals, had coffee and showed Craig around. Instead of jumping right into our usual project mode, we decided we should take a day to just be a family. We stopped at the new café on Mt. Baker Highway (that used to be “Carol’s Coffee Cup” and then “Carol’s Girls”) for lunch, sat out on the patio enjoying the sunshine and Pellegrino™. Afterward we headed into to do some kayaking off Chuckanut Hwy, the PCH.
Lisa and Chris bought a sea kayak and its just a short jaunt from their house to Larrabee State Park where there is a small boat ramp. Craig and Tom donned their life vests on and hoisted the kayak on Chris’s Honda™ Element and in two shakes of a lamb’s tail they were off on their sea adventure. Henry and I too were off - to his eleven-year-old routine physical. I’d waited a month for this appointment and I wasn’t going to give it up for love or money. So we looked on the bright side and thought this would give Tom and Craig to have some father/son time before we returned. Not that they needed it as they drive to and from work together an hour and a half each way every day, but a rationalization is a rationalization and it was working for me. And Henry.
The physical went like most do, a cough here a shot there, but there was one notable exception. A frustrated nurse complained while taking Henry’s blood pressure that the sleeve was too small for his muscle, she’d have to get an adult-sized one. A sly smile crossed Henry’s face and hung there for a long time. He was so proud.
(Self Portrait)
We called when we were on our way back. Tom and Craig were having a great time tooling around the bay watching all the crabbers empty their pots.
(Craig, Henry & Proud Pea) It was then the brothers went out together while Tom and I sat on the beach enjoying the sand, squirrels, seagulls and constant boat traffic. The boat dock wasn’t empty once while we sat there. Tom said it was busier than SeaTac. The crabbers would pull in set their traps and leave for a while and then come back and pick up their traps. It’s a wonder there is any crab left in Bellingham Bay.
(Henry & Craig)
(more brotherly love) Our next stop was Quinn and Phoebe’s Broadway Extravaganza. A grand finale for the singing camp the girls attended - given by BAAY (Bellingham Arts Academy for Youth) on State Street. We were a little late and Lisa text me there was limited seating so Craig and Henry went on a walk around town headed in the direction of Mallard’s Ice Cream while Tom and I went in expecting to endure the performance. Instead, we were bowled over by some of the performances. Not all were fabulous, but all were wonderful. The very idea the kids had the confidence to get up in front of an audience and sing. I can tell you right now I lip sync in church.
(Quinn -12 and Phoebe 7)
(Quinn & Phoebe with David Post) The director, David Post is certainly teaching kids confidence and stage presence. Neither Tom nor I could believe seven-year-old Phoebe standing on stage singing a solo. Quinn! Well, she doesn’t look twelve in my old sequin dress leftover from a bazillion years ago. She was frustrated because she didn’t have time to memorize the lyrics to one of her songs, “Hear the Bells” and so she was rushed and didn’t feel she did at all well on that song. I was frustrated I couldn’t get any good camera angles. (may Caleb Deschanel forgive me - my camera and editing work film is far below par, but the girls are sweet).
The girls pestered me at intermission about where Henry was and why he was missing their show, but they were happy he was spending time with Craig.
When we finally got home, the evening proved to be just beginning as Craig came prepared with “Talladega Nights”. Henry popped it in the DVD and we all sat down for family movie night. Imagine my surprise when Karen roared on the screen – a wild cougar.
I may have forgotten to mention but our doorbell has about 50 different “rings” and one of them is a cougar snarl. Henry has found it great fun to “ring” the doorbell when he feels I’m at my most vulnerable.
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.
Still extremely sore, I hobbled into to the school auditorium and was struck by the difference between the talent show at Woodland Hills Elementary and this one.
At Woodland Hills, a few teachers, spend unending hours selecting, coordinating, rehearsing, encouraging, disciplining and choreographing and fine tuning the acts for the talent show. And that doesn’t include getting the audio-visual set up, the decorations, costumes, make-up or ticket sales or publicity. Woodland Hills talent show is an amazing event with an intermission and refreshment sales. The acts are put in order to keep the show moving, the master of ceremonies is rehearsed and integrated with the program. The event lasts two nights because the crowd can’t be accommodated in one. It is an extremely enjoyable performance from start to finish. The show usually begins and ends with extraordinary musical numbers choreographed for the whole cast. Woodland Hills is after all – Hollywood.
Tonight’s show was much different. I walked in and there weren’t any tickets. You just sat down. No velvet curtains hung promising glamour, no signs, and no theme, no glittering stars– none of the trappings. There was a small well-worn wooden stage with a white board behind it that no one even bothered to erase and a few student desks surrounding it. A blue program was placed on all the seats. Every kid who wanted to be in the talent show was in the talent show. There were no tryouts or rehearsals.
I found a chair near the front. I couldn’t believe that just a short time ago Henry was in the hospital and now he would be doing his dance like nothing happened. And I was just happy to be able to hold my coffee cup. I took an aisle seat so I wouldn’t have any trouble seeing and because I like to take pictures as well as video. No teachers were involved, a couple of hardworking parents who always volunteer helped out. Before the show began there was very welcome announcement of free ice cream from Mallard’s after the show. Free? Nothing in California is ever free.
Some of the acts were really cute, a couple acts were good, but more than most were painful to watch. Partly because the kids didn't have a routine or thought out plan, it was if we were sitting in their living room while they were doing something spontaneously. At one point I wished I didn’t have such a good view. Checking my watch every few minutes and sipping on coffee, I couldn’t help but think of the teachers at Woodland Hills. I wondered what they would think. Kids who had barely rehearsed and weren’t really sure what they were doing jumping around on stage. But as I watched one bad act after another mediocre one, Lisa’s friend, Diane leaned over and said, “You know what I think is nice is that every kid who wants to get up there gets a chance. The talented kids will always be on stage, but this is a chance for every kid to get up there and have people clap for them.”
The sentiment struck me. I felt a little ashamed as I watched the children and saw the happiness in their eyes. I wasn't in Hollywood, but it felt like I could be watching a school talent show anywhere else in the country. This was Norman Rockwell.
I looked at everything differently afterward. I saw the innocence of these kids and thought how happily they would remember this special night years from now. I watched Henry beaming, so absolutely thrilled to finally be a part of something after being the lonely new kid all year. This talent show really was quite beautiful in its own way.
The kids sang and danced with complete abandon. We hooted and hollered and clapped ferociously. And although these little performers were full of excitement, let me tell you for most of them this should be their last performance on any stage anywhere - unless it's their livingroom. But tonight they each got their chance to be a star.
Henry - Miles - Zach - Kick it to "Two-Step" - the clean version
Not completely confident in Alfred's last diagnosis, my sister put me in touch with another doctor friend of hers who has been checking into Alfred's condition. As doctor's do she asked many questions regarding Alfred's legs, his ability and of course his living conditions. The doctor asked me if Alfred has been getting enough sunlight.
"No." I replied, "Alfred, lives in the Pacific Northwest, there is no sunlight. We've had rain and snow almost since he arrived. Even the tulips haven't had enough sunlight."
Well, after that I went and got Alfred a full -spectrum light bulb which is what many people use here and in the mid-west to ward off S.A.D. - Seasonal Affect Disorder-.
(Henry covered in gosling poop with his flock) Today however, is a screaming sunny day. And so all of the goslings: Mabel, Ruthie, Clara, Matilda, Lloyd, Quackmire, Alfred and Cleveland are all venturing outside for a little sunshine therapy.
(Henry & Mabel - after Henry changed his shirt- Wimp)
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.
Since their last great escape, Pancho and Lefty have been serving time in cow jail. And since we haven’t had to go out day after day rounding them up, we can remember what snuggle bugs they really are.
Having them in the barn creates a completely different set of problems. It may be interesting to note the size of the cow pie is in direct relation to the size of the cow. That being said, it is important to remember that Pancho is the same size as my Honda Odyssey. Needless to say, we spent the day cleaning their stall and filling and filling and filling their water buckets. We don’t have a ginormous water trough up in the barn so we have to keep a close eye on the water levels.
Much like caring for an infant or anything else, it’s through the diaper changing and constant feedings that you create a close bond. I’d had that feeling after working them on the yoke, but lately chasing them down the road in the rain and mending fences they’d shattered, I’d forgotten it. Until today. Brushing them, talking to them and giving them lots of cow cookies brought those maternal feelings flooding back.
Realistically, I know we can’t keep them. I made a mistake. They’re just too much for the pasture and me. But I don’t regret them, I met Maryruth Monahan, I learned how to drive oxen and I gained a great deal of cow sense. They taught me a lot and they deserve a good home where they’ll have more room and - hopefully higher fences.
I'm not sure if I've completely lost my mind, but Quackmire, Lloyd, Alfred, Mabel, Clara, Matilda, Ruthie and Cleveland seem to be growing before my eyes. They've more than doubled in size in less than a week. Actually, I'm not all that surprised when you consider how much lettuce they've been plowing through. They started out eating some Flock Raiser and a head or two of lettuce - they seem to prefer Romaine. Now they're eating bowls of Flock Raiser and if we let them I think they'd eat 12 heads a day. Except Cleveland, when they zig, he zags. If they're eating, he's watching. When they all snuggle up for a nap, he's off on his own sleeping with one leg sticking out from under him. He's what you might call "the odd duck"
The kids' new favorite activity is putting them in the bathtub winding them up and watching them go.
We came back from Henry’s competition at Stanford University this evening. It was a great meet.We got to reconnect with the whole team at Victory Gymnastics Academy in Newbury Park. Howie and Cheri the owners were kind enough to ask Ray, Henry's old coach, if he could compete with the Victory team. Henry's current team in Washington does not care to travel this far, but it's one of our favorite meets and a chance to see our friends. What’s even better is we’re going to see them again in just a couple weeks at the Black Jack meet in Las Vegas. It was wonderful to meet Tom there and it was better for Henry that he didn’t have to wait so long this time to see his daddy. It was just a more normal visit, because it hadn’t been less than a month.
Henry felt good about his gymnastics. He had a little trouble with sticking some of his landings. And truthfully, he has slipped a bit in comparison to the boys he used to work out with, but he did beat their scores on high bar, so he’s still in the hunt, which is good. It may make him work harder.
Being in Washington is great, but it was so nice to see friends. Friends who you don’t even have to talk to, friends you can just sit next to. People you’ve known for years and traveled with from gymnastics meet to gymnastics meet, from one gym to the next. That’s how it was this weekend. We were with the Iversons, the Coopers, the Peters and the Sweetermans a group we’ve seen through so many events, grades jobs, moves, and illness. We didn’t have to do anything or say anything. We just sat there most of the time watching our boys and cheering them on together like always.
After our flight home, I didn’t want to go out to the barn, but I couldn’t stay away. I hadn’t seen my little ones in days and I just had to check on them. Mike wasn’t home when we got there to tell me they were all right, so I went out. I was shocked to see the barn flooded. The floor was one big puddle. Luckily, it was flowing away from the animals. I’ll have to have the plumber out. I looked all around and I still can’t figure out where it’s coming from. One whole wall is wet and there are drips of water coming from the ceiling in a little side room where I have the sink and a refrigerator, the weird thing is there isn’t any plumbing in that ceiling so it’s coming from somewhere else and leaching into the ceiling. Wonderful, I wonder how much that’s going to cost?
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!”
