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...
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