Things have been changing around the Wilhoit Ranch the past week to ten days. We had an incident almost three weeks ago with our racehorse, Blue, and our doesn't-play-well-with-others riding horse, Woody. Woody kicked the daylights out of Blue and Blue never recovered. Literally. It was a sad event because she was such a sweetie, but she is no longer suffering, thankfully. She was finally ready to start racing for real too. I guess she'll be running on a track of gold instead. For now, we are out of the racing business.
The pigs have been relocated for the timebeing. It's breeding time for them and they are with Mr. Strawberry. And guess what? Ruby has issues...she is a stress ball. Seriously. She cannot seem to handle the stress of the whole breeding process. She turns purple, stiffens up, sits down, etc...so she was artificially inseminated. Exciting news, I know. Now we wait to see if Yadi and Ruby have successfully been bred and then the real fun begins. Heard this week there would be a pork/bacon shortage next year. You know how the media can be, but maybe this could work in our favor....Yeah, right!
The goats are adorable to look at and funny, but they're sort of driving us nuts. As winter is approaching, we're thinking it may be time for them to find a new home. Here's the thing, the wether, Whitie, is useless, literally. He is 'fixed' so he cannot be used for breeding. Brownie, the buck, who could be used for breeding is sort of small, and we could get a doe and have her bred by him. However, we're not so sure we want to be taking care of baby goats and piglets in the freezing cold weather this winter. We have a hard enough time keeping one newborn species alive in extreme circumstances, let alone two.
One night last week when Madolyn and I got home from town, Jay and Lane were playing basketball...and so were the goats and Hank. It was so funny. I tried to get pictures but they didn't turn out too well. Brownie kept going after the ball and headbutting it. (He likes to headbutt Hank too. Hank doesn't get it. Poor guy.) Those goats like to be right in the middle of the action unless they're hungry, and honestly, they're always hungry.
Last Thursday, I got home from work and was in the process of unloading my truck. (That was the day I had went to Sam's for supplies.) I left my back door open, and when we came outside to retrieve the rest of the stuff, the goats had gotten in the truck and had the hot dog buns strewn across the concrete pad. Fortunately, they didn't have enough time to actually open the bags and the buns weren't ruined. Then, after shutting the door to the truck and going inside, Lane came out and discovered the goats trying to get in the truck...can you say scratch-scratch! Fortunately, again, they were caught in time and no major damage was done to my paint job, but honestly, you can't leave them alone for a minute. They are so nosey.
Saturday, I worked all morning on my porch, washed windows, washed the railing, washed the siding, swept, knocked down cobwebs, etc. Later that morning when I was cleaning inside, I heard a noise on the porch, looked outside and those doggone goats were looking in the window, standing on the railing, nosing up to the front door glass, etc. I had just planted small mums in my railing flower boxes and added a pumpkin in each...they were discovered. All the blooms were off the mums in one box. I ran outside in a rampage and, nicely, told Jay the goats were ruining all my work! I kindly escorted them to their pen...Brownie headbutted me three times. We may not be friends anymore, I'm not sure. I think they're wearing out their welcome.
So the Wilhoit Ranch is undergoing some changes, some good, some not-so-good. We will adjust. When I found out about Ruby's anxiety and stress issues, I told Jay that we seem to be better at controlling the animal population than increasing it. Maybe that is our role, who knows. I guess we'll keep trying.
Goats anyone?
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Overly organized
I am one of those people who likes to think they're organized when they're not, and when I am truly organized, I sure don't feel like it. Last week, I felt like I was on top of things. I had already made plans to take Friday afternoon off. The kids were getting out of school early, the local farmer's market was that afternoon and that evening I was to sell sandwiches and hotdogs at the home football game for the booster club. I was all over it.
I am a procrastinator, no question....but I also like to plan ahead...does that make any sense at all? And I like to do one thing at a time if I'm feeling overwhelmed. Get through A, then move onto B, even if it's a last-minute thing. Yes, that is how I work.
I ordered the BBQ from the best caterer in the world earlier in the week (ha, we had both forgotten that I had asked her about it a couple weeks ago and then it crept up on us). On Thursday over my lunch hour, I made a flying trip to Terre Haute to hit Sam's and get hotdogs & cheap buns, lots of them, for the football game. I'm all over this...
Immediately upon my return from lunch at Sam's, I get on Facebook only to see that the football game has been cancelled because the other team forfeited. Man...I have 80+ hamburger buns and 60+ hotdog buns in my truck right now. What in the world am I going to do with all of this stuff? Ahhh.
I text the caterer right away, telling her if she hasn't started the BBQ, to stop the press! Fortunately, for me, she texted back that she hadn't pulled the pork yet and could use it for something she had going on the next week so it was not a total disaster. I commented back to her how great that was, now if I had something to do with these buns! To which she replied, I could use 65 of them. SWEET.
So our 4-H club tries to do a bake sale at these monthly farmer's markets in Martinsville. Again, the leader and I were all over it. She sent out a text and email reminding everyone about it (because it always creeps up on us). I baked a cake on Thursday night with plans to cook up something else the next afternoon since I was getting off work early. Madolyn would ice her cake the next day after it cooled over night. We were so prepared it's not even funny.
I updated my status announcing that the 4H club would have the bake sale at the farmer's market and reminding everyone in the community to come out and support the locals...and then the texts and facebook messages start...um, that's next Friday. This week's farmer's market is in Westfield. Geesh.
So now I have Friday afternoon off, there's no farmer's market and no football game. I have an iced cake and a bunch of hotdog buns (which is so much better than it could have been). I ended up picking up a couple of Lane's friends from school and coming home to let them play. I cooked up some freezer meals and found a home for the hotdog buns and iced cake...thanks to the cancelled football game and the team having a mandatory cookout;)
With suddenly a free evening, Jay and I went to Terre Haute for supper and then headed to Lowe's to buy this truck toolbox he has been eyeing for months. He had researched and checked with someone else who had one, just to make sure this was the toolbox he wanted for his truck. He had the money, he was ready. We had been to Lowe's a few weeks before looking at them and knew they had them. Off we went to Lowe's.
We get separated in the store and I find him standing in the toolbox aisle. As I walk down the aisle to where he's standing, I immediately see an empty spot and start laughing...totally joking I say, "So I suppose the one you want is where that empty spot is on the shelf?" And I was right. They had many shapes and sizes but not the one Jay wanted. We both had to laugh. Seems that that is just how the last 24 hours had went.
Oh well, that's what you get for being overly prepared, I guess. Maybe it's best I return to normal. (BTW, tonight is the farmer's market in town...and I have my stuff ready to go on the counter...oh yeah.)
I am a procrastinator, no question....but I also like to plan ahead...does that make any sense at all? And I like to do one thing at a time if I'm feeling overwhelmed. Get through A, then move onto B, even if it's a last-minute thing. Yes, that is how I work.
I ordered the BBQ from the best caterer in the world earlier in the week (ha, we had both forgotten that I had asked her about it a couple weeks ago and then it crept up on us). On Thursday over my lunch hour, I made a flying trip to Terre Haute to hit Sam's and get hotdogs & cheap buns, lots of them, for the football game. I'm all over this...
Immediately upon my return from lunch at Sam's, I get on Facebook only to see that the football game has been cancelled because the other team forfeited. Man...I have 80+ hamburger buns and 60+ hotdog buns in my truck right now. What in the world am I going to do with all of this stuff? Ahhh.
I text the caterer right away, telling her if she hasn't started the BBQ, to stop the press! Fortunately, for me, she texted back that she hadn't pulled the pork yet and could use it for something she had going on the next week so it was not a total disaster. I commented back to her how great that was, now if I had something to do with these buns! To which she replied, I could use 65 of them. SWEET.
So our 4-H club tries to do a bake sale at these monthly farmer's markets in Martinsville. Again, the leader and I were all over it. She sent out a text and email reminding everyone about it (because it always creeps up on us). I baked a cake on Thursday night with plans to cook up something else the next afternoon since I was getting off work early. Madolyn would ice her cake the next day after it cooled over night. We were so prepared it's not even funny.
I updated my status announcing that the 4H club would have the bake sale at the farmer's market and reminding everyone in the community to come out and support the locals...and then the texts and facebook messages start...um, that's next Friday. This week's farmer's market is in Westfield. Geesh.
So now I have Friday afternoon off, there's no farmer's market and no football game. I have an iced cake and a bunch of hotdog buns (which is so much better than it could have been). I ended up picking up a couple of Lane's friends from school and coming home to let them play. I cooked up some freezer meals and found a home for the hotdog buns and iced cake...thanks to the cancelled football game and the team having a mandatory cookout;)
With suddenly a free evening, Jay and I went to Terre Haute for supper and then headed to Lowe's to buy this truck toolbox he has been eyeing for months. He had researched and checked with someone else who had one, just to make sure this was the toolbox he wanted for his truck. He had the money, he was ready. We had been to Lowe's a few weeks before looking at them and knew they had them. Off we went to Lowe's.
We get separated in the store and I find him standing in the toolbox aisle. As I walk down the aisle to where he's standing, I immediately see an empty spot and start laughing...totally joking I say, "So I suppose the one you want is where that empty spot is on the shelf?" And I was right. They had many shapes and sizes but not the one Jay wanted. We both had to laugh. Seems that that is just how the last 24 hours had went.
Oh well, that's what you get for being overly prepared, I guess. Maybe it's best I return to normal. (BTW, tonight is the farmer's market in town...and I have my stuff ready to go on the counter...oh yeah.)
Monday, September 24, 2012
See You at the Pole
For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. Ephesians 3:14-21 (NIV)
I told you last year about this time that about this time next year (now) I would be inviting you to the annual See You At The Pole event at your local high school. That day is coming up this Wednesday. As I study it a little more, I see that it is really for students, they're not really asking for the community to come, so I would ask you to first encourage your children or grandchildren to attend, and second, to be in prayer on Wednesday morning at 7:30 for those that are attending and those that didn't have the courage. Our local high school bible club is currently preparing for one at our junior/high school.
The theme this year is "Awakening" and is based on the scripture text noted above (Ephesians 3:14-21). I went to the website www.syatp.com and looked around a little. These were the specific prayer requests noted:
No matter where you are on Wednesday, September 26 at 7:30 a.m., stop and say a prayer and remember the national See You At The Pole event and all the students and mentors involved with it. It's kind of neat to think that at that moment, thousands and thousands of young people all over will be in prayer at their school and for their schools.
I told you last year about this time that about this time next year (now) I would be inviting you to the annual See You At The Pole event at your local high school. That day is coming up this Wednesday. As I study it a little more, I see that it is really for students, they're not really asking for the community to come, so I would ask you to first encourage your children or grandchildren to attend, and second, to be in prayer on Wednesday morning at 7:30 for those that are attending and those that didn't have the courage. Our local high school bible club is currently preparing for one at our junior/high school.
The theme this year is "Awakening" and is based on the scripture text noted above (Ephesians 3:14-21). I went to the website www.syatp.com and looked around a little. These were the specific prayer requests noted:
- your school’s event starting now, right up to the day of See You at the Pole.
- the students who are leading and planning your See You at the Pole at your school.
- the Christians at your school to show up ready to pray on See You at the Pole day.
- the non-Christian students on your campus who will see or hear about SYATP.
- Christian students on your campus to make the most of this unique opportunity to explain what happened on the morning of See You at the Pole and to be a witness for Christ.
No matter where you are on Wednesday, September 26 at 7:30 a.m., stop and say a prayer and remember the national See You At The Pole event and all the students and mentors involved with it. It's kind of neat to think that at that moment, thousands and thousands of young people all over will be in prayer at their school and for their schools.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Darling Nelly Gray
When I showed up at the nursing home today on my lunch hour, Grandma Great was still down in the dining room so I headed that way to give her a ride. Often times, she is "the last one to leave" the dining room and she has to "sit there and wait" forever on someone to push her back to her room. (I think she could probably wheel herself on down the hall, but...)
When I popped around the corner, I could see she had a visitor...her baby brother (and only living brother), "Nellie," as he has been known to me all of my life, was sitting next to her and they were chatting away. As I have mentioned before, my grandma was one of five children, but the only girl. And having met three of her four brothers, Oh my, is about all I can say. They are/were characters! I can only imagine what it was like growing up with them.
It probably wasn't until I was attending the funeral of grandma's brother, Lowell, many years ago, that I finally learned that Nellie was a nickname for her baby brother, and then later on, that grandma had given it to him. I never asked where she had come up with the nickname, only that she was the one responsible for it.
During my visit today, I was enlightened a bit on the story behind the nickname...Nellie was explaining to an employee of the nursing home that he was grandma's brother, baby brother, and grandma spoke up and said she had given him the nickname of Nellie. Then they proceeded to tell the little tale, each adding tidbits here and there.
My great-grandma would put my grandma (who was ten years older than Nellie) in charge of getting the baby calmed down while she was busy with things in the kitchen. Grandma said she would go in the front room and sit down by the cradle and rock her little brother to sleep and sing, Darling Nelly Gray. (Cue grandma and Nellie singing the chorus) And yes, they were both singing a little there in the dining room...which is a hoot because none of us are known for singing!
I don't know if grandma was so desirous of a baby sister that she thought calling him Nellie would help, but soon grandma's little brother was dubbed, "Nellie" and it stuck. He said he gets mail addressed to Nellie and even his checks come that way. My guess is that there are quite a few people who don't realize that is only a nickname. One of my grandma's other brothers had a nickname of "Sport," and if I remember correctly, that came from his favorite dog that died. He was known by "Sport" until the day he died, although many knew that was only a nickname.
Later I looked up "Darling Nelly Gray" online (isn't Google great?), and I found several renditions on youtube (which is also great). It is an African-American folksong written in 1856 by Benjamin Hanby. It is a pretty catchy tune, and I couldn't help but tap my toes to the beat. If you're interested and if I did this right, here is a link to the one I listened to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6RCmKMay9w&feature=related
I have a friend from Lawrenceville who used to crack up when I would talk about people from home because I would always say something like, "well, that's their nickname" or "that's not their real name, but that's what we call them." She just couldn't understand why we didn't just call people by their names. Hmm, I don't really know either...it just runs in my blood, I guess.
When I popped around the corner, I could see she had a visitor...her baby brother (and only living brother), "Nellie," as he has been known to me all of my life, was sitting next to her and they were chatting away. As I have mentioned before, my grandma was one of five children, but the only girl. And having met three of her four brothers, Oh my, is about all I can say. They are/were characters! I can only imagine what it was like growing up with them.
It probably wasn't until I was attending the funeral of grandma's brother, Lowell, many years ago, that I finally learned that Nellie was a nickname for her baby brother, and then later on, that grandma had given it to him. I never asked where she had come up with the nickname, only that she was the one responsible for it.
During my visit today, I was enlightened a bit on the story behind the nickname...Nellie was explaining to an employee of the nursing home that he was grandma's brother, baby brother, and grandma spoke up and said she had given him the nickname of Nellie. Then they proceeded to tell the little tale, each adding tidbits here and there.
My great-grandma would put my grandma (who was ten years older than Nellie) in charge of getting the baby calmed down while she was busy with things in the kitchen. Grandma said she would go in the front room and sit down by the cradle and rock her little brother to sleep and sing, Darling Nelly Gray. (Cue grandma and Nellie singing the chorus) And yes, they were both singing a little there in the dining room...which is a hoot because none of us are known for singing!
I don't know if grandma was so desirous of a baby sister that she thought calling him Nellie would help, but soon grandma's little brother was dubbed, "Nellie" and it stuck. He said he gets mail addressed to Nellie and even his checks come that way. My guess is that there are quite a few people who don't realize that is only a nickname. One of my grandma's other brothers had a nickname of "Sport," and if I remember correctly, that came from his favorite dog that died. He was known by "Sport" until the day he died, although many knew that was only a nickname.
Later I looked up "Darling Nelly Gray" online (isn't Google great?), and I found several renditions on youtube (which is also great). It is an African-American folksong written in 1856 by Benjamin Hanby. It is a pretty catchy tune, and I couldn't help but tap my toes to the beat. If you're interested and if I did this right, here is a link to the one I listened to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6RCmKMay9w&feature=related
I have a friend from Lawrenceville who used to crack up when I would talk about people from home because I would always say something like, "well, that's their nickname" or "that's not their real name, but that's what we call them." She just couldn't understand why we didn't just call people by their names. Hmm, I don't really know either...it just runs in my blood, I guess.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Houston, we have a problem...
Something is going on with our Dwarf Hamster from Kenya, Oreo. A couple months ago I noticed that the hair on his rear-end was disappearing. The hair line is getting higher and higher. I've kept close watch, peering at him through the cage, trying to see if there was a sore or something causing the hair loss. I cannot see anything unusual...other than no hair covering his back quarter.
Two weeks ago, I studied online...you know, I googled the subject matter and saw a picture of a hamster that looked exactly like Oreo with the hair loss. I was encouraged because at least I knew that we weren't the only ones with this problem. Suggestions included changing the bedding because some pine shavings can have oils on them which irritate the hamster's skin thereby causing hair loss; removing the wheel (yes, thank you, since the little Kenyan likes to run all night on that thing) because maybe he is bumping his little bottom on the wheel causing the hair loss; mites, which means you take him to the vet for an expensive remedy; more protein, try broccoli (which he refuses to eat).
Immediately we cleaned out his cage and replaced the bedding, although we used the horse bedding and I'm not so sure it doesn't have oils on it too. We also removed the wheel, which Jay thought was cruel and unusual punishment, "that is what he lives for." This from Jay who is feeling sorry for the dwarf hamster, go figure. I tried to give him broccoli and he didn't eat it, or at least not much of it, and I gave him a snow pea. It wasn't a real winner either.
Two weeks of this and no sign of improvement. Sunday night we put the wheel back in, sure that he was suffering depression. At night he would run around in his cage like he was freaking out, but really he was trying to get his exercise, I imagine. He seemed pleased to have his exercise wheel and gave it a good work-out once the lights went out and it was bedtime. Quickly he was removed to the washing machine in the back because I cannot take the noise at night.
Monday night, I stopped to say hello to the little guy and I noticed that he was kind of carrying his right front paw and it looked a little red or irritated. He will hardly hold still long enough to get a good look...and you can't hold him because he likes to bite. (He's a great little pet, I tell you...not. We should've gotten a guinea pig like I wanted;) So now his foot is messed up. I slipped him a carrot hoping that would cheer him up, or at least improve his eyesight, I guess, I don't know. Jay thought his wheel was sounding funky like it wasn't running freely. (Good heavens, it runs freely all night long.) I gave it a spin and it is in fine working order. His diagnosis: Oreo caught his right front paw in the wheel running last night's 5k.
It did not deter the fitness guru. As soon as the lights went out, he was on the wheel running to Chicago, maybe in hopes of rescusing some bored children who aren't in school right now? I have no clue what is wrong with him. Obviously, we have a problem with his skin or hair. I plan on buying him some 'natural' bedding with no dyes or oils next shopping trip. Jay thought maybe we should just let him loose in the woods. Yeah, that's a great idea. He should heal up in no time.
Two weeks ago, I studied online...you know, I googled the subject matter and saw a picture of a hamster that looked exactly like Oreo with the hair loss. I was encouraged because at least I knew that we weren't the only ones with this problem. Suggestions included changing the bedding because some pine shavings can have oils on them which irritate the hamster's skin thereby causing hair loss; removing the wheel (yes, thank you, since the little Kenyan likes to run all night on that thing) because maybe he is bumping his little bottom on the wheel causing the hair loss; mites, which means you take him to the vet for an expensive remedy; more protein, try broccoli (which he refuses to eat).
Immediately we cleaned out his cage and replaced the bedding, although we used the horse bedding and I'm not so sure it doesn't have oils on it too. We also removed the wheel, which Jay thought was cruel and unusual punishment, "that is what he lives for." This from Jay who is feeling sorry for the dwarf hamster, go figure. I tried to give him broccoli and he didn't eat it, or at least not much of it, and I gave him a snow pea. It wasn't a real winner either.
Two weeks of this and no sign of improvement. Sunday night we put the wheel back in, sure that he was suffering depression. At night he would run around in his cage like he was freaking out, but really he was trying to get his exercise, I imagine. He seemed pleased to have his exercise wheel and gave it a good work-out once the lights went out and it was bedtime. Quickly he was removed to the washing machine in the back because I cannot take the noise at night.
Monday night, I stopped to say hello to the little guy and I noticed that he was kind of carrying his right front paw and it looked a little red or irritated. He will hardly hold still long enough to get a good look...and you can't hold him because he likes to bite. (He's a great little pet, I tell you...not. We should've gotten a guinea pig like I wanted;) So now his foot is messed up. I slipped him a carrot hoping that would cheer him up, or at least improve his eyesight, I guess, I don't know. Jay thought his wheel was sounding funky like it wasn't running freely. (Good heavens, it runs freely all night long.) I gave it a spin and it is in fine working order. His diagnosis: Oreo caught his right front paw in the wheel running last night's 5k.
It did not deter the fitness guru. As soon as the lights went out, he was on the wheel running to Chicago, maybe in hopes of rescusing some bored children who aren't in school right now? I have no clue what is wrong with him. Obviously, we have a problem with his skin or hair. I plan on buying him some 'natural' bedding with no dyes or oils next shopping trip. Jay thought maybe we should just let him loose in the woods. Yeah, that's a great idea. He should heal up in no time.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
I am starting to get...
a cramp in my arm from patting myself on the back. Ha! This weekend I conquered a fear or a goal of mine. I, Sarah, hooked my truck up to our camper, drove it to the campground (which I had done once before), pulled it into a camping spot (drive-through, thank you, Jesus, no backing required), got the camper off the truck, leveled it somewhat, camped overnight, hooked the camper back up to my truck and got it back home safely in one piece.
Jay is scheduled to work two weekends a month. For HIS benefit, I picked last Saturday night, while he was working, to let Madolyn have her very-belated-slumber-party-camp-out. (He really should thank me.) I gathered up five 12-year-old girls and Lane, loaded up the camper and headed to the campground. (Lane had a friend come later that evening so he wouldn't be completely tortured!)
There was a slight snafu with the hitch. Apparently I didn't do something vitally important with the ball hitch to completely attach it, but it didn't seem to matter a whole lot considering we made it over there without losing the camper. I must say I/we had quite a time getting the camper unhooked...and finally, I had to just remove the hitch mechanism from the truck, leaving the ball attached to the camper. When Jay came after work, he messed with it, noticed what I had done (my texts relaying my interpretations weren't clear, imagine that) and got me fixed right up. I think he was still amazed that I hadn't lost the camper...what can I say? Ha.
One of Mad's girlfriends is quite the little hand...She helped me and I was thankful for that. There was a point while trying to get unhooked that Madolyn said, "Mom, everyone is just staring at us." How typical is that...there were 45 camping spots taken and no one offered to come help a mom and six children! Ahh, the DNR guy drove by once and I thought for sure he would stop, nope, he kept on going. Right after we got the hitch unhooked from the truck, the camp host came by for check-in, he asked me how I was doing. I said, "I'm fine now. Five minutes ago I sure could've used some help."
I completed check-in, got the camper as level as possible and plugged us into the electrical outlet. Power, check. Now for the water. Where is the spigot? WAY OVER THERE...will the hose reach? Nope. Oh well, there is NO way I was hooking back up and moving two feet. NO way. Good news. When I ran to Wal-mart for a couple things, I picked up a six-foot hose for $4.97. Worked perfectly and now we'll have one for next time...although I know that Jay would never let that happen. Water for dishes, check.
Now for the fire. After pouring almost an entire bottle of lighter fluid on our wood, Lane and I had about given up. A different friend of Mad's came and sat down. She took one look at the fire ring and said, "There's no oxygen getting to the fire. It won't light without air." Duh, why didn't I think of that? Maybe 12-yr-old girls do know everything? I move the fire ring and it takes off. Great fire, check.
We had tried to bring Hank the Tank II with us for his first camp-out (since I had the bed to myself, there was room for the big guy), but he would not get in the truck. Typical. He always wants to go. Right before we left, the kids had worn him out with the golf cart and I think he was nearing a heart attack. He would not get up off the garage floor no matter what we tried. Even his favorite treat did not budge him much. All kidding aside, I was thankful when Jay texted later that he was still alive 'cause we know how that goes sometimes.
The weather was perfect to be sitting around a fire. My parents came out and ate chili and hot dogs with us. Jay came after he got off work and stayed until bedtime. Lane's buddy was dropped off by his dad and he stayed to visit for a while too. Even though the park was full, it was pleasant. The kids were pretty good...although I don't think the girls got much sleep in the tent. Every hour I'd text them to be quiet because I could hear them from my warm, cozy bed. My last text was 1:30 a.m. Either I gave up or they did.
We had biscuits (okay, so I use bread camping because I don't have an oven) and sausage gravy for breakfast and loaded up. It was a good experience for me. I have come to the conclusion that when I am forced to do things on my own, I figure it out...otherwise, I just let Jay do it. I need to choose what I learn to do carefully or I will know everything...ha!
Jay is scheduled to work two weekends a month. For HIS benefit, I picked last Saturday night, while he was working, to let Madolyn have her very-belated-slumber-party-camp-out. (He really should thank me.) I gathered up five 12-year-old girls and Lane, loaded up the camper and headed to the campground. (Lane had a friend come later that evening so he wouldn't be completely tortured!)
There was a slight snafu with the hitch. Apparently I didn't do something vitally important with the ball hitch to completely attach it, but it didn't seem to matter a whole lot considering we made it over there without losing the camper. I must say I/we had quite a time getting the camper unhooked...and finally, I had to just remove the hitch mechanism from the truck, leaving the ball attached to the camper. When Jay came after work, he messed with it, noticed what I had done (my texts relaying my interpretations weren't clear, imagine that) and got me fixed right up. I think he was still amazed that I hadn't lost the camper...what can I say? Ha.
One of Mad's girlfriends is quite the little hand...She helped me and I was thankful for that. There was a point while trying to get unhooked that Madolyn said, "Mom, everyone is just staring at us." How typical is that...there were 45 camping spots taken and no one offered to come help a mom and six children! Ahh, the DNR guy drove by once and I thought for sure he would stop, nope, he kept on going. Right after we got the hitch unhooked from the truck, the camp host came by for check-in, he asked me how I was doing. I said, "I'm fine now. Five minutes ago I sure could've used some help."
I completed check-in, got the camper as level as possible and plugged us into the electrical outlet. Power, check. Now for the water. Where is the spigot? WAY OVER THERE...will the hose reach? Nope. Oh well, there is NO way I was hooking back up and moving two feet. NO way. Good news. When I ran to Wal-mart for a couple things, I picked up a six-foot hose for $4.97. Worked perfectly and now we'll have one for next time...although I know that Jay would never let that happen. Water for dishes, check.
Now for the fire. After pouring almost an entire bottle of lighter fluid on our wood, Lane and I had about given up. A different friend of Mad's came and sat down. She took one look at the fire ring and said, "There's no oxygen getting to the fire. It won't light without air." Duh, why didn't I think of that? Maybe 12-yr-old girls do know everything? I move the fire ring and it takes off. Great fire, check.
We had tried to bring Hank the Tank II with us for his first camp-out (since I had the bed to myself, there was room for the big guy), but he would not get in the truck. Typical. He always wants to go. Right before we left, the kids had worn him out with the golf cart and I think he was nearing a heart attack. He would not get up off the garage floor no matter what we tried. Even his favorite treat did not budge him much. All kidding aside, I was thankful when Jay texted later that he was still alive 'cause we know how that goes sometimes.
The weather was perfect to be sitting around a fire. My parents came out and ate chili and hot dogs with us. Jay came after he got off work and stayed until bedtime. Lane's buddy was dropped off by his dad and he stayed to visit for a while too. Even though the park was full, it was pleasant. The kids were pretty good...although I don't think the girls got much sleep in the tent. Every hour I'd text them to be quiet because I could hear them from my warm, cozy bed. My last text was 1:30 a.m. Either I gave up or they did.
We had biscuits (okay, so I use bread camping because I don't have an oven) and sausage gravy for breakfast and loaded up. It was a good experience for me. I have come to the conclusion that when I am forced to do things on my own, I figure it out...otherwise, I just let Jay do it. I need to choose what I learn to do carefully or I will know everything...ha!
Monday, September 17, 2012
My Somewhat Fiery Furnace
If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. Daniel 3:17 (NIV)
It is hard to believe sometimes that I have been a court reporter for 16.5 years. I guess times flies when you're having fun. As I have mentioned before I could tell so many stories on some of the stuff I have seen, heard or experienced. Really, you might think nothing goes on in these parts, and yes, compared to bigger cities, I guess one could say nothing major is going on here in these parts, but you might be surprised.
Over the next few weeks, I'll try and tell some of my most memorable courtroom experiences. Keep in mind, I am not going to get too specific on details...although most, if not all, the stories I mention is public knowledge and/or of record.
I guess I should start with the very first jury trial I ever reported. Of all the things I do, a jury trial is one of the most stressful. Everyone is kind of keyed up and at their best. We have a room full of citizens waiting to be questioned as possible jurors so you want to look good, act professional and know what you're doing. My mentor, I'll call her "Traci" even taught me about the importance of jury trial hair and wardrobe. The jury, once picked, sees me from the back mostly...so I want my hair looking decent from the back...and I want to wear a dress or outfit that looks good from the rear view. Important stuff...ha.
Here's a little legal terminology lesson for you (and these are strictly my simple definitions): The "venire" is the term used to describe that group of citizens waiting to be questioned. The venire panel is chosen by the Secretary of State's office, randomly, for the circuit clerk to call in for jury duty. People used to think you had to be registered to vote to get picked...that is not so. If you have a driver's license or a state ID card, your name is also on that list (or at least that is my understanding). "Voir dire" is the term used to define the process of questioning the venire or potential jurors as to their qualifications to be a juror. (Hopefully, you learned something today...not sure it's useful, but there you go.)
Okay, back to jury trials. My very first week of employment, I spent shadowing another reporter in a nearby county, "Traci." My prior court reporting experience was freelancing which is going here, there and everywhere to report depositions, and is not associated, most of the time, with the courtroom scenario. I had zero knowledge on how to actually do my job in the courtroom, aside from knowing how to type fast on a steno machine, obviously. So I spent the week working with my mentor, learning the ropes, and the following Monday morning, I was on my own, in my 'home' county to work as an official court reporter.
I show up on that Monday morning ready to begin my first real day of working in a courtroom. Funny, I could not find a parking place. Hmm, that is strange. Funny, haha funny, the reason I could not find a parking space is because there was a whole group of citizens, "the venire" there for "voir dire." Mind you, I didn't know what those words even meant yet! I nearly fell over. Here I was, 21 years old, about to be thrown into a fiery furnace...or at least that's how I felt.
I set my stuff up in the courtroom, took several deep breaths, whispered a few prayers and we started. Again, I had absolutely no clue what I was doing, but one thing I was sure of, if I just kept typing what everyone was saying I would be okay, I could figure out the rest later. It was a short jury trial. I somehow muddled through. We picked a jury, heard testimony and eventually the time came for a jury instruction conference. What? Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. It's a conference with only the judge and the attorneys before closing argument when they discuss what instructions they will read to the jury. Again, I just go with the flow and type, type, type.
There was one pivotal moment for me that occurred during this jury instruction conference. When the judge said the term "IPI" and a number, I knew I was in over my head. I had absolutely NO clue what he was talking about, I wasn't even sure he had actually said "IPI." I had no business being in a jury trial, something serious and life-changing for another human being. I was completely lost.
I remember that evening telling Jay that I had absolutely no business being a court reporter, working in a courtroom or a jury trial. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, or what we were going to do because we had just moved to this town for my new job, but I was positive that I was way out of my league.
Obviously, I stuck it out and learned what an IPI was (Illinois Pattern Instruction...duh;). I took the time to ask and learn what in the world it meant, what the jury instruction conference was, and many other things. From that particular experience, I took away one very important lesson...school only prepares you for so much. Most of what you learn, you will learn on the job.
I suppose that throwing me in the fiery furnace right off the bat was the only way to do it. I still think it was crazy, administratively-speaking, but what do I know? I managed to get through it, probably with some higher power, if you know what I mean...
It is hard to believe sometimes that I have been a court reporter for 16.5 years. I guess times flies when you're having fun. As I have mentioned before I could tell so many stories on some of the stuff I have seen, heard or experienced. Really, you might think nothing goes on in these parts, and yes, compared to bigger cities, I guess one could say nothing major is going on here in these parts, but you might be surprised.
Over the next few weeks, I'll try and tell some of my most memorable courtroom experiences. Keep in mind, I am not going to get too specific on details...although most, if not all, the stories I mention is public knowledge and/or of record.
I guess I should start with the very first jury trial I ever reported. Of all the things I do, a jury trial is one of the most stressful. Everyone is kind of keyed up and at their best. We have a room full of citizens waiting to be questioned as possible jurors so you want to look good, act professional and know what you're doing. My mentor, I'll call her "Traci" even taught me about the importance of jury trial hair and wardrobe. The jury, once picked, sees me from the back mostly...so I want my hair looking decent from the back...and I want to wear a dress or outfit that looks good from the rear view. Important stuff...ha.
Here's a little legal terminology lesson for you (and these are strictly my simple definitions): The "venire" is the term used to describe that group of citizens waiting to be questioned. The venire panel is chosen by the Secretary of State's office, randomly, for the circuit clerk to call in for jury duty. People used to think you had to be registered to vote to get picked...that is not so. If you have a driver's license or a state ID card, your name is also on that list (or at least that is my understanding). "Voir dire" is the term used to define the process of questioning the venire or potential jurors as to their qualifications to be a juror. (Hopefully, you learned something today...not sure it's useful, but there you go.)
Okay, back to jury trials. My very first week of employment, I spent shadowing another reporter in a nearby county, "Traci." My prior court reporting experience was freelancing which is going here, there and everywhere to report depositions, and is not associated, most of the time, with the courtroom scenario. I had zero knowledge on how to actually do my job in the courtroom, aside from knowing how to type fast on a steno machine, obviously. So I spent the week working with my mentor, learning the ropes, and the following Monday morning, I was on my own, in my 'home' county to work as an official court reporter.
I show up on that Monday morning ready to begin my first real day of working in a courtroom. Funny, I could not find a parking place. Hmm, that is strange. Funny, haha funny, the reason I could not find a parking space is because there was a whole group of citizens, "the venire" there for "voir dire." Mind you, I didn't know what those words even meant yet! I nearly fell over. Here I was, 21 years old, about to be thrown into a fiery furnace...or at least that's how I felt.
I set my stuff up in the courtroom, took several deep breaths, whispered a few prayers and we started. Again, I had absolutely no clue what I was doing, but one thing I was sure of, if I just kept typing what everyone was saying I would be okay, I could figure out the rest later. It was a short jury trial. I somehow muddled through. We picked a jury, heard testimony and eventually the time came for a jury instruction conference. What? Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. It's a conference with only the judge and the attorneys before closing argument when they discuss what instructions they will read to the jury. Again, I just go with the flow and type, type, type.
There was one pivotal moment for me that occurred during this jury instruction conference. When the judge said the term "IPI" and a number, I knew I was in over my head. I had absolutely NO clue what he was talking about, I wasn't even sure he had actually said "IPI." I had no business being in a jury trial, something serious and life-changing for another human being. I was completely lost.
I remember that evening telling Jay that I had absolutely no business being a court reporter, working in a courtroom or a jury trial. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, or what we were going to do because we had just moved to this town for my new job, but I was positive that I was way out of my league.
Obviously, I stuck it out and learned what an IPI was (Illinois Pattern Instruction...duh;). I took the time to ask and learn what in the world it meant, what the jury instruction conference was, and many other things. From that particular experience, I took away one very important lesson...school only prepares you for so much. Most of what you learn, you will learn on the job.
I suppose that throwing me in the fiery furnace right off the bat was the only way to do it. I still think it was crazy, administratively-speaking, but what do I know? I managed to get through it, probably with some higher power, if you know what I mean...
Thursday, September 13, 2012
The Delivery
A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1 (NIV)
During the past few weeks this has been on my mind a lot and it seems like I've encountered this situation many times. And then over and over in my mind, I kept hearing, "it's all about the delivery." I'm talking about how things are presented, as in the package.
As an example, not that this would ever happen, of course...The kids wake up and one of them might possibly say something like, "I want breakfast now." To which, I could respond, in my Mommie-Dearest voice, "Too bad." Whereas, if they had said, "Oh, best mom ever, may I have breakfast, please?" I would have responded in my Leave-it-to-Beaver-June-Cleaver voice, "Yes, my little darling."
It's often said that we lash out at the ones we love and I definitely believe that. Thus, if I'm in a bad mood, my kids and Jay get the brunt of it. I will walk in the house from work and immediately I hear requests and demands. I end up snapping at them. I know they don't realize it, but if they would just give me a minute and let me put my stuff down and change my clothes, their requests might be better received.
My better half would say that I shouldn't have to worry about the delivery of the package. Just get it out there on the table. Say what you have to say. But I tend to believe the delivery is important to get the better or more productive response. How we handle ourselves and our words in conversing and dealing with others is key to how we will be treated in return.
In the past six months, I have had three people comment on how calm I appear during certain situations. Funny. What they probably didn't realize was that at that very moment, internally, I was about to implode, but I have learned through past experiences that getting worked up and hysterical doesn't help much. For instance, if there are four people experiencing a catastrophe and those four people are hysterical, all you have is major hysteria in the midst of a catastrophe. It's non-productive. (And really, folks, I'm not that calm all the time.)
One of my all-time favorite movie quotes is from the movie, Lean on Me, with Morgan Freeman. During this movie, Freeman is brought in as principal of a very rough, inner-city school. At one point he tells some of his staff, "If we treat our students like animals, that's exactly how they'll behave." That movie came out in 1989 and that particular quote has been stuck in my mind ever since. I get it.
There was a situation recently where a request was made by a committee member (I'm a member of same committee) at a meeting. I couldn't be present, but as soon as I encountered folks leaving that meeting, I was hearing comments about it. After talking with a few people, I came to the conclusion that because of the way the request was made, people took offense. It wasn't intended to offend or attack anyone at all, but the delivery of the message wasn't quite right.
I just read a quote in a blog last week that I loved, and you may have seen it on my Facebook. It said, "Yelling at a bud won't make it bloom." That is exactly my point. And believe me, I can yell...and I do yell when necessary. Occasionally, I yell when it's not necessary (my kids would say that it's never necessary).
Sometimes you have to wrap the package up real pretty for it to be well-received. I know it shouldn't have to be like that all the time, but it's amazing how the delivery or presentation of something can make all the difference. Just be mindful, if you come in with guns a blazing, you better get out your breastplate and expect to be fired upon.
During the past few weeks this has been on my mind a lot and it seems like I've encountered this situation many times. And then over and over in my mind, I kept hearing, "it's all about the delivery." I'm talking about how things are presented, as in the package.
As an example, not that this would ever happen, of course...The kids wake up and one of them might possibly say something like, "I want breakfast now." To which, I could respond, in my Mommie-Dearest voice, "Too bad." Whereas, if they had said, "Oh, best mom ever, may I have breakfast, please?" I would have responded in my Leave-it-to-Beaver-June-Cleaver voice, "Yes, my little darling."
It's often said that we lash out at the ones we love and I definitely believe that. Thus, if I'm in a bad mood, my kids and Jay get the brunt of it. I will walk in the house from work and immediately I hear requests and demands. I end up snapping at them. I know they don't realize it, but if they would just give me a minute and let me put my stuff down and change my clothes, their requests might be better received.
My better half would say that I shouldn't have to worry about the delivery of the package. Just get it out there on the table. Say what you have to say. But I tend to believe the delivery is important to get the better or more productive response. How we handle ourselves and our words in conversing and dealing with others is key to how we will be treated in return.
In the past six months, I have had three people comment on how calm I appear during certain situations. Funny. What they probably didn't realize was that at that very moment, internally, I was about to implode, but I have learned through past experiences that getting worked up and hysterical doesn't help much. For instance, if there are four people experiencing a catastrophe and those four people are hysterical, all you have is major hysteria in the midst of a catastrophe. It's non-productive. (And really, folks, I'm not that calm all the time.)
One of my all-time favorite movie quotes is from the movie, Lean on Me, with Morgan Freeman. During this movie, Freeman is brought in as principal of a very rough, inner-city school. At one point he tells some of his staff, "If we treat our students like animals, that's exactly how they'll behave." That movie came out in 1989 and that particular quote has been stuck in my mind ever since. I get it.
There was a situation recently where a request was made by a committee member (I'm a member of same committee) at a meeting. I couldn't be present, but as soon as I encountered folks leaving that meeting, I was hearing comments about it. After talking with a few people, I came to the conclusion that because of the way the request was made, people took offense. It wasn't intended to offend or attack anyone at all, but the delivery of the message wasn't quite right.
I just read a quote in a blog last week that I loved, and you may have seen it on my Facebook. It said, "Yelling at a bud won't make it bloom." That is exactly my point. And believe me, I can yell...and I do yell when necessary. Occasionally, I yell when it's not necessary (my kids would say that it's never necessary).
Sometimes you have to wrap the package up real pretty for it to be well-received. I know it shouldn't have to be like that all the time, but it's amazing how the delivery or presentation of something can make all the difference. Just be mindful, if you come in with guns a blazing, you better get out your breastplate and expect to be fired upon.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Makin' Memories
is what we like to call it. The proper translation of "Makin' Memories" would be a less than perfect situation...Such as camping with our camping clan in a severe thunderstorm/tornado watch, getting a truck stuck in the severe thunderstorm/tornado watch after unhitching the camper, watching a waterfall inside your camper during that severe thunderstorm/tornado watch, seeing smoke roll out of the camper battery, having a flat tire pulling a camper on the way to the state fair, a camper a/c malfunction while camping in 105+ degree temperatures...and you probably get my drift.
I have said it for years, when things are not going like you planned them, you are makin' memories. A couple years ago we took some of our youth to St. Louis for a one-day mission trip. We went down the night before, spent the night in a hotel, had all kinds of fun swimming and hanging out. Next morning we loaded up and headed to our work spot...it was cold, windy and rainy. Wonderful conditions to be working outside. If you know me at all, I'm a total wimp when it comes to terrible weather, but there was no way I could complain about it in front of those kids...so I kept telling them that we were makin' memories. If it was beautiful and sunny, it might be totally uneventful, nothing memorable...Now we will never forget it because we were soaked to the bone and cold.
The fun stuff I remember from church camp...a lot of it relates to the water troubles or some sort of mini-disaster we've had. Such as, me deciding to flush a nasty toilet in the girls bathroom on the FIRST DAY OF CAMP and it overflowing and flooding the entire bathroom, which caused us to not have water for two days. Now, who is going to forget that? That's right...no one. The year the boys' dorm flooded because of a heavy rainfall in the middle of the night and we had to empty out those rooms, mop up lots and lots of water, and do a bunch of laundry. That was a memory forever etched in my mind. How about checking the entire camp for head lice? Never will I forget that...ever.
Since we bought a small camper this spring, we're going camping every chance we can get. This summer was a bit on the hot side, but we still went a few times in the blazing hot temps. The kids don't seem to mind the heat, but it's always harder on the adults. I'm learning more and more as I get older that all those great memories I had as a kid were lots and lots of work for the adults and parents. I have no doubts that my parents and other adults dreaded certain activities or events because of the exhaustion or frustration that came from them, but I am thankful they pressed forward because I treasure many of those memories.
Crazy rainfall amounts can lead to muddy, soggy grass and largepuddles lakes of water surrounding your camper, which could make for a miserable camping experience when in the company of several restless children...but those large lakes of water surrounding the camper plus several restless children, led by an older child adult, can become a splash party. A humongous slip-n-slide. An endless amount of muddy, soggy fun. No worries...There is a shower house a hundred yards away and a plastic bag for the wet, messy clothes.
So, yes, I would love to have that perfect camping scenario with beautiful weather, right-on temperatures, well-behaved children, campers that operate perfectly, etc, but making the best of a less than perfect situation creates memories that can last a lifetime. Sometimes it's all about your attitude, and fortunately for my family and friends, we're all about makin' memories.
I have said it for years, when things are not going like you planned them, you are makin' memories. A couple years ago we took some of our youth to St. Louis for a one-day mission trip. We went down the night before, spent the night in a hotel, had all kinds of fun swimming and hanging out. Next morning we loaded up and headed to our work spot...it was cold, windy and rainy. Wonderful conditions to be working outside. If you know me at all, I'm a total wimp when it comes to terrible weather, but there was no way I could complain about it in front of those kids...so I kept telling them that we were makin' memories. If it was beautiful and sunny, it might be totally uneventful, nothing memorable...Now we will never forget it because we were soaked to the bone and cold.
The fun stuff I remember from church camp...a lot of it relates to the water troubles or some sort of mini-disaster we've had. Such as, me deciding to flush a nasty toilet in the girls bathroom on the FIRST DAY OF CAMP and it overflowing and flooding the entire bathroom, which caused us to not have water for two days. Now, who is going to forget that? That's right...no one. The year the boys' dorm flooded because of a heavy rainfall in the middle of the night and we had to empty out those rooms, mop up lots and lots of water, and do a bunch of laundry. That was a memory forever etched in my mind. How about checking the entire camp for head lice? Never will I forget that...ever.
Since we bought a small camper this spring, we're going camping every chance we can get. This summer was a bit on the hot side, but we still went a few times in the blazing hot temps. The kids don't seem to mind the heat, but it's always harder on the adults. I'm learning more and more as I get older that all those great memories I had as a kid were lots and lots of work for the adults and parents. I have no doubts that my parents and other adults dreaded certain activities or events because of the exhaustion or frustration that came from them, but I am thankful they pressed forward because I treasure many of those memories.
Crazy rainfall amounts can lead to muddy, soggy grass and large
So, yes, I would love to have that perfect camping scenario with beautiful weather, right-on temperatures, well-behaved children, campers that operate perfectly, etc, but making the best of a less than perfect situation creates memories that can last a lifetime. Sometimes it's all about your attitude, and fortunately for my family and friends, we're all about makin' memories.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
America the Beautiful
Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD, the people he chose for his inheritance. Psalms 33:12 (NIV)
Today is September 11, 2012. I am guessing there are very few Americans who don't know what this date signifies. It has been 11 years since the terrorist attack on our country, yet it doesn't feel like it has been that long. Yesterday, Madolyn's class started watching a movie at school based on 9/11 and she is engrossed in it. She could not wait to finish watching it. It's so odd to think that when that happened, she was only a year old and Lane was not even in existence! I am glad that she is being exposed to that history...crazy to think that is now history...important, significant history.
Last night at the volleyball game, as I was standing during the National Anthem, I wondered...do the kids in this gym know the words to this song, our country's theme song? I meant to ask my kids on the way home and I forgot. I hope that is something they are taught in music class at the grade school. I am sure that's where I learned it. We learned all those patriotic songs.
I now put my hand on my heart when the National Anthem is played and I sing/whisper the words of the song. Five years ago, I wouldn't have because I would've thought it was dorky. If you look around at people, most do not have their hands on their heart. I suppose it may not mean anything negative, but, for me, it's a significant symbol of the love and respect I have for my country and the many, many soldiers who have fought for our freedom.
It's funny, when you're a kid, the Pledge of Allegiance is so important, but as an adult, how many times do we recite it? Very little. And usually if I have, it's because I was at an event involving children (such as bible school). Why do we feel like the Pledge is only important to children? I believe they still do the Pledge of Allegiance every day during school. I think at one time they had stopped it or made it optional...maybe I am wrong on that. Regardless, I hope they do it and can recite the Pledge verbatim without hesitation and with their hand on their heart. To me, the Pledge of Allegiance is like a prayer for our country.
I am an American Christian citizen and proud of it. Today, as you think about those that lost loved ones and sacrificed on September 11 and many other times, sing the National Anthem and repeat the Pledge of Allegiance. Be proud of and in prayer for our country, America the Beautiful.
Today is September 11, 2012. I am guessing there are very few Americans who don't know what this date signifies. It has been 11 years since the terrorist attack on our country, yet it doesn't feel like it has been that long. Yesterday, Madolyn's class started watching a movie at school based on 9/11 and she is engrossed in it. She could not wait to finish watching it. It's so odd to think that when that happened, she was only a year old and Lane was not even in existence! I am glad that she is being exposed to that history...crazy to think that is now history...important, significant history.
Last night at the volleyball game, as I was standing during the National Anthem, I wondered...do the kids in this gym know the words to this song, our country's theme song? I meant to ask my kids on the way home and I forgot. I hope that is something they are taught in music class at the grade school. I am sure that's where I learned it. We learned all those patriotic songs.
I now put my hand on my heart when the National Anthem is played and I sing/whisper the words of the song. Five years ago, I wouldn't have because I would've thought it was dorky. If you look around at people, most do not have their hands on their heart. I suppose it may not mean anything negative, but, for me, it's a significant symbol of the love and respect I have for my country and the many, many soldiers who have fought for our freedom.
It's funny, when you're a kid, the Pledge of Allegiance is so important, but as an adult, how many times do we recite it? Very little. And usually if I have, it's because I was at an event involving children (such as bible school). Why do we feel like the Pledge is only important to children? I believe they still do the Pledge of Allegiance every day during school. I think at one time they had stopped it or made it optional...maybe I am wrong on that. Regardless, I hope they do it and can recite the Pledge verbatim without hesitation and with their hand on their heart. To me, the Pledge of Allegiance is like a prayer for our country.
I am an American Christian citizen and proud of it. Today, as you think about those that lost loved ones and sacrificed on September 11 and many other times, sing the National Anthem and repeat the Pledge of Allegiance. Be proud of and in prayer for our country, America the Beautiful.
Friday, September 7, 2012
My health nut
(Some names have been changed to protect the nutty innocent.) I was reading an article online about the death of actor, Michael Clark Duncan. It had a link to an article on the top things you could do to cut the risk of heart attacks in younger males. I read through them and was very pleased that "The Dog" (aka the nutty innocent one) was following all but two of the seventeen items. Because there are heart issues in his genes, I was thrilled that The Dog was taking care of himself.
At this moment I cannot recall what one of the two was, but it was something food-related. The second one was the one that struck a cord with me...cleaning the house and doing household chores. Sweet! As we were taking a walk the other night, I told him about the article and of course his question was, "What are the two things I don't do already?" I gladly rattled off the one about cleaning.
The very next morning, The Dog and I were in the kitchen. (This is his week off.) I was cutting up apples for my mid-morning apple and peanut butter snack, The Dog was messing at the sink. I asked what he was doing...he said he was loading the dishes into the dishwasher so he could mark that one off the heart attack risk list. I had to laugh...I hope he realizes they don't mean just one chore one time. (It probably needs to be on a regular basis...I mean, yes, it has to be.)
We drink a lot of tea. We use the cold-brew Lipton tea bags and we love it. Two evenings ago, The Dog comes in the kitchen and tells me he is going out to get some sassafras so that he can make me the best tea ever. Random, but okay. Next thing I know I see the tractor pass by the window. What in the world is he doing on a tractor? (You have to know The Dog...it didn't really surprise me a lot, but he must have gotten sidetracked on another project.) Lane even comes in and says, "What's dad doing?" To which I replied, "Getting sassafras for tea." Hmm, okay.
After 30 minutes or so, The Dog comes in and I ask him what he was doing with the tractor. He tells me that he was getting sassafras. "With the tractor?" I ask. "Yeah, I had to knock it over. It'll grow back." Hmm, I didn't realize you had to knock a tree over to get sassafras, but whatever. He washes the bits and pieces of the sassafras and puts a pan on the stove to boil it.
The tea is boiled and prepared. He drinks a big glass. Forces Madolyn to try some. She thinks it's nasty. It's bright pink in the pitcher. I don't touch it. I'm fine with my plain ole Lipton tea bags. Last night he comes in the house and says, "I wonder if sassafras has caffeine in it, I couldn't sleep worth a darn last night" (as he is boiling another pot of tea on the stove). I tell him to google it. He gets on the computer and a few minutes later starts laughing.
So I bite..."It has caffeine in it, doesn't it?" "Nope. No caffeine. It's a carcinogen. It's linked to cancer." So I immediately turn off the tea that is boiling and rolling out aromas, "Great, these fumes are poisoning us, you've forced your daughter to drink the stuff and you've had a whole pitcher. Good thing you're taking care of your heart"...you nut.
At this moment I cannot recall what one of the two was, but it was something food-related. The second one was the one that struck a cord with me...cleaning the house and doing household chores. Sweet! As we were taking a walk the other night, I told him about the article and of course his question was, "What are the two things I don't do already?" I gladly rattled off the one about cleaning.
The very next morning, The Dog and I were in the kitchen. (This is his week off.) I was cutting up apples for my mid-morning apple and peanut butter snack, The Dog was messing at the sink. I asked what he was doing...he said he was loading the dishes into the dishwasher so he could mark that one off the heart attack risk list. I had to laugh...I hope he realizes they don't mean just one chore one time. (It probably needs to be on a regular basis...I mean, yes, it has to be.)
We drink a lot of tea. We use the cold-brew Lipton tea bags and we love it. Two evenings ago, The Dog comes in the kitchen and tells me he is going out to get some sassafras so that he can make me the best tea ever. Random, but okay. Next thing I know I see the tractor pass by the window. What in the world is he doing on a tractor? (You have to know The Dog...it didn't really surprise me a lot, but he must have gotten sidetracked on another project.) Lane even comes in and says, "What's dad doing?" To which I replied, "Getting sassafras for tea." Hmm, okay.
After 30 minutes or so, The Dog comes in and I ask him what he was doing with the tractor. He tells me that he was getting sassafras. "With the tractor?" I ask. "Yeah, I had to knock it over. It'll grow back." Hmm, I didn't realize you had to knock a tree over to get sassafras, but whatever. He washes the bits and pieces of the sassafras and puts a pan on the stove to boil it.
The tea is boiled and prepared. He drinks a big glass. Forces Madolyn to try some. She thinks it's nasty. It's bright pink in the pitcher. I don't touch it. I'm fine with my plain ole Lipton tea bags. Last night he comes in the house and says, "I wonder if sassafras has caffeine in it, I couldn't sleep worth a darn last night" (as he is boiling another pot of tea on the stove). I tell him to google it. He gets on the computer and a few minutes later starts laughing.
So I bite..."It has caffeine in it, doesn't it?" "Nope. No caffeine. It's a carcinogen. It's linked to cancer." So I immediately turn off the tea that is boiling and rolling out aromas, "Great, these fumes are poisoning us, you've forced your daughter to drink the stuff and you've had a whole pitcher. Good thing you're taking care of your heart"...you nut.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Spring - Take II
Looking around right now, you might think Spring was just around the corner. I noticed that my volunteer marigolds are sprouting new plants and starting to bloom again as if they hadn't already bloomed and burnt up in the dry heat this summer.
On Labor Day, Jay worked on things outside while I worked inside. It is amazing how quickly the earth responded to the rain we've been getting, isn't it? I didn't realize how much I had missed all the green until it was gone for so long. We now have lush, thick green grass that is growing rapidly with the heat and moisture. A lot of our plants are budding and the trees are perking up. The kids mowed our yard twice in a seven-day period, which has not happened for a very long time.
It feels almost as if we're starting Spring instead of Fall. I can't say that I mind really, it's kind of the best of both worlds actually. We're finally getting our rain and things look fresh and alive, but it's going to soon cool down a bit and get us prepared for the colder months.
Labor Day weekend Jay was off and our plan for weeks had been to camp, then Isaac decided to grace us with his presence. I was so bummed, but remembered how much we had prayed for rain and the replenishing of the dry, brittle, cracked earth. No camping for us, but thankfully we did get some nice steady rainfall without storms and damage....although I know that folks in the south are suffering from the aftermath.
I love Fall and always look forward to Spring. After such a steamy and dry Summer and maybe since it was 85 degrees in March, we get a do-over. Lights! Camera! Action! Here we go...Spring - Take II
On Labor Day, Jay worked on things outside while I worked inside. It is amazing how quickly the earth responded to the rain we've been getting, isn't it? I didn't realize how much I had missed all the green until it was gone for so long. We now have lush, thick green grass that is growing rapidly with the heat and moisture. A lot of our plants are budding and the trees are perking up. The kids mowed our yard twice in a seven-day period, which has not happened for a very long time.
It feels almost as if we're starting Spring instead of Fall. I can't say that I mind really, it's kind of the best of both worlds actually. We're finally getting our rain and things look fresh and alive, but it's going to soon cool down a bit and get us prepared for the colder months.
Labor Day weekend Jay was off and our plan for weeks had been to camp, then Isaac decided to grace us with his presence. I was so bummed, but remembered how much we had prayed for rain and the replenishing of the dry, brittle, cracked earth. No camping for us, but thankfully we did get some nice steady rainfall without storms and damage....although I know that folks in the south are suffering from the aftermath.
I love Fall and always look forward to Spring. After such a steamy and dry Summer and maybe since it was 85 degrees in March, we get a do-over. Lights! Camera! Action! Here we go...Spring - Take II
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Yard work
Wish I had taken a picture of the trees Jay cut down last week, but I didn't. Last year we had three adult trees in our front yard die. We had held out hope that maybe this year they would spring back to life...ha. It didn't happen. After a storm last week blew several trees down all over the county, Jay decided on his days off, he was going to cut those three dead trees down before they fell down and hurt other trees that were still alive.
It's such a bummer because we love trees and ever since we built our house, we have planted trees every year. I think at one time I counted about 60 trees in our yard! Several of them are evergreens that we hope will grow to be a nice windbreak...of course, we lost three this year due to a combination of things: drought and goats. Goats love evergreens!
The goats also helped with the yardwork and landscaping this week. They helped trim the bushes in front of the house and they've also helped themselves to my beautiful Clematis vine. I'm going to be super-duper upset if that Clematis doesn't come up next year. My mom got it for me last year and I had actually managed to keep it alive and it was flourishing...even with the drought this year (and I only watered it twice).
A few times a week when we're going to be around home, we let Brownie & Whitey out to play. Hank cannot help himself and thinks that either he is a goat or they are dogs. He chases them everywhere and tries to join in as they head-butt each other with their horns. It is hilarious. (I think Hank wishes he had horns...we are thankful he does not.) The other night mom and dad were over and asked how we got them back in their pen...it's easy, Lane starts running toward their pen and they just charge after him. It is hysterical. They go right in, especially if they've been playing long enough.
Last night the kids and I got the clippers out and trimmed these bushes so the poor goats wouldn't be stuck with all the hard work. I gave the clippings to the goats and they ate on them all night...next morning, they were gone! Maybe it will help keep the goatsies off the porch...I doubt it.
At one point last week, I had the front inside door open and the curtains to the sliding doors open. I looked to the front and saw Whitey at the front step with his nose at the door, and when I looked to the deck, there was Hank the Tank with his nose to the door. Seems as though everyone wants inside.
It's such a bummer because we love trees and ever since we built our house, we have planted trees every year. I think at one time I counted about 60 trees in our yard! Several of them are evergreens that we hope will grow to be a nice windbreak...of course, we lost three this year due to a combination of things: drought and goats. Goats love evergreens!
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| Whitey trimming the bush. |
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| Brownie ready to welcome guests. |
A few times a week when we're going to be around home, we let Brownie & Whitey out to play. Hank cannot help himself and thinks that either he is a goat or they are dogs. He chases them everywhere and tries to join in as they head-butt each other with their horns. It is hilarious. (I think Hank wishes he had horns...we are thankful he does not.) The other night mom and dad were over and asked how we got them back in their pen...it's easy, Lane starts running toward their pen and they just charge after him. It is hysterical. They go right in, especially if they've been playing long enough.
Last night the kids and I got the clippers out and trimmed these bushes so the poor goats wouldn't be stuck with all the hard work. I gave the clippings to the goats and they ate on them all night...next morning, they were gone! Maybe it will help keep the goatsies off the porch...I doubt it.
At one point last week, I had the front inside door open and the curtains to the sliding doors open. I looked to the front and saw Whitey at the front step with his nose at the door, and when I looked to the deck, there was Hank the Tank with his nose to the door. Seems as though everyone wants inside.
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