I said goodbye to an old friend today.

This week has been rough, but today was a killer. I've got three cats. They are going on 16, 15, and 14 years old. As far as medical drama goes they've been pretty low maintenance. Other than routine shots and check ups and declawings and such, I've had one visit to the vet for a UTI. (Well, there was the emergency visit when a box full of nail polish fell out of my closet. Several bottles shattered and unfortunately one of the cats was positioned close enough that she collected quite a bit of the nail polish. Her back half was now blue, purple, yellow and white. As the vet looked at the cat he said....well, we've never dealt with this one before. She got a pretty choppy shave job. )

Many times in their little kitty lives I've told them that when the time comes they are going to have to take care of it on their own because I didn't think I could make the decision for them. Yoko didn't get the memo. For a while now I've felt things weren't quite right with her. She just been deteriorating slowly and I've been watching for quality of life, and for the most part I could still see "her" and didn't sense any pain. A few days ago I noticed she hadn't moved from a particular spot for hours. She was dazed, and her eyes were vacant. I won't go on about the specifics, but I just knew where things were headed. I prayed so many times for release from "the decision". I kept hoping to find she wouldn't wake up and would go peacefully in her sleep.

This probably is the part where I should talk about how wonderful she was and all her enjoyable qualities and how much happiness she brought to everyone's life, but I can't. She wasn't that cat. She was shy and antisocial. Most people who have been to my house have never seen her because she won't come out. My nephew thinks he saw her once in 6 years. She was scared of almost everything and freaked out if you wanted to pick her up. But she was mine, and when all the other distractions and things that scared her were gone and when it was just her and me we got each other. Eventually she tolerated being petted by me. She was happy to be on the bed but if I tried to pick her up she was outta there.

Oddly though in the past couple days while she's spent most of her time sleeping, the place she chose to sit was my bed. When I got in bed at night she curled up as close to me as she could. When we were in the vet's office today and she was scared she set herself right against me and let me rest both hands on her to comfort her. I've been thinking...dang it cat. Why'd you wait until now to decide to buddy up with me?

She was nearly 15. She had a good, long life, but having to choose to end it just takes something out of you. Yoko is survived in death by Kiki, whom she loved very much and Kizzy whom she loved not at all. But I can't blame her. Kizzy is a difficult cat to get a long with. In the picture below Kiki is the one who is sitting on her. She loved him. Kizzy is the one who was usually not invited to be part of the in group, hence the positioning on the other edge of the bed.

Goodbye little buddy. Thanks for a good, long run.

Meagan is a momma.

One of the hardest things to do is wait for the news of how the story will end. Not quite a week ago my best friend's daughter checked herself into the hospital and was induced. The bride and groom in the gorgeous picture above (very top of my blog) started their family early into their wedded bliss. Shortly after their return from their honeymoon Meagan and Michael found out they were going to be parents. She was due in October. So we all set our clocks for mid-fall.

Meagan had several complications a long the way and her doctors began to worry for her health, so the plan became to keep Breydon in as long as possible without endangering mom or baby. And so we waited.

On Wednesday, 8 months to the day that we sat at Boat House and enjoyed rehearsal dinner and waited for the events of the next day, we waited for Meagan to have her baby. It was a new experience for me to get labor and delivery updates by watching face book! At about 12:45 a facebook post reported Meagan being at 1 cm. My first thought was....oh my goodness, this kid is really having a baby. I'm not sure what I thought was going to happened once she got to the hospital. Maybe that they'd hand Breydon to her. My second thought was....this is going to be a long night and there won't be news for a while. So I slept. Until the phone rang telling me Breydon was here. Meagan was fine. Despite being 6 or 7 weeks early the little guy was 5 pounds 6 ounces. Other than the normal 34 week preemie issues he was doing very well. I figured it was just about time to get up for work and then I looked at the clock. It wasn't even 2:30. 2 pushes and 11 minutes of hard labor. I think it was the first thing that was "easy" about the pregnancy.

Breydon continues to do well and pass mile stones, and barring anything unexpected we have a better idea of how the story ends.

I'll let the pics tell the rest of the story.


Proud dad!

I already know I'm NOT going to like it.

The title of this post is a play on an earlier post entitled, I already know I'm going to like it. In that post my niece, a few minutes into the Chinese acrobat's performance, whispered in awe to me, "I already know I'm going to like it."

While in Branson, at my mom's prompting, we saw the show (Cough. Cough. I can hardly type this with a straight face.) Noah, the Musical. It isn't the first time she has suggested this show. It always surprises me because she isn't a fan of music, or noise, or anything song-like. I've never read through Genesis and thought....now that would make a great musical--if only someone would produce that.

Everywhere you go in Branson there are advertisments for shows. The shows are their bread an butter. At one of the places we stopped there was a replica of the arc they use on stage, and I have to admit it was impressive looking. We grabbed a pamphlet and again, mom lobbied for the show saying that she'd read it was one of those "experiences" you don't want to miss. Later in the evening (at the last minute) we decided to head to the show--and I mean last minute. We were late. The parking people directed us towards the handicapped parking to save walking time. They put us way up in almost the last row, as to not interrupt the others enjoying the show who made it there on time. We joined the show already in progress and Noah, and family were singing their hearts out--musical style. A few minutes into the show mom leaned over to me and said....."I don't think I like this." The good news is that there was only 2 hours and 20 minutes left until it was over.

The first half (while they were building the arc) was a little draggy. The second half (while they were on the arc) was kind of cool. The stage, and both sides of the building were turned into 3 stories of the inside of the arc. The audience's view looked in the animal stalls. Most animals were fake, but they had a few real animals in the stalls and on the stage. Goats, and chickens and donkeys, and cows and such.

After Mom expressed her dissatisfaction I asked her what she thought it was going to be. She said, "I don't know--not so much singing". I realize when you have an image in your head of how something is going to be that you filter out the other clues that pop up. Here is the pamphlet advertising the show. Perhaps there were a couple clues....



The first clue of course is the title. Noah the MUSICAL. Not Noah, the play or Noah, the commentary or Noah, the dramatic reading.



The second clue is that the people in the ad seem to have their hands up, looking skyward, with their mouths open. A dead giveaway that there are some really long notes being held.

We survived the first half, and enjoyed the second half :-)

How do kids get adults to do stuff like this?

Mom and Dad and I have the kiddos for the weekend. We are giving their parents some much deserved peace and quiet. Last night was belated fireworks. They were pretty wimpy as far as fire works go, but the kids had fun.




The fireworks were "too bright". Colby needed his sun glasses.

Today was the fair. As a rule the fair cannot come to town without it being the hottest week of the summer. Today was blazing hot. I'd give us about a D+ for taking children to the fair in a responsible manner. We took barely enough cash to get in and had no water or snacks of any sort with us. It wasn't long before we were all melting in the heat. DQ isn't far from the fair, and it saved our lives. Well, that might be a little dramatic, but it was really hot. Very little shade. No drinking fountains and an entire afternoon planned for the fair.

I love this shot because of what Kate has on her head. This was a craft that she made with Gramma. A simple scrap of fabric with some glued on buttons. Kate bonded with it immediately. It has been a scarf, a sling to carry her baby, a shawl, a backpack, and a belt. It had to go to the fair today & it became a head dress. That is so Kate.



I love this one too. It is typical goofy Colby and Kate still has the head dress on.

Ahem. Perhaps I'm too stupid to own a car.

Every once in a while you run into a situation that if it hadn't happened to you it would be really funny. There is a debate in my head whether or not to actually put this out in cyber space, but in the end, I think it is laugh worthy and maybe someone else can comfort themselves with the phrase.....well, at least I've never done that.

My car troubles on the way to Indy were two-fold. One, a tire was vibrating. Two, the car didn't seem to be able to accelerate. Once I got the car to 55 or 60 it didn't have any trouble maintaining speed, just getting there. Stop lights were fun. I was keeping pace with semi's taking off from a dead stop.

The wonderful woman who owns the place I take my car (who reads my blog) very kindly responded to my last blog post, and through cyber space gave me some advice on fluids to check before heading home and set up an appointment for the day I'm back in town. My mom and dad and I set out from Branson early this AM and drove to Indy. Once there it was my dad's job to check fluid levels and give the car a test run to see if it should be driven to Warsaw. He returned a few minutes later and happily announced he solved the acceleration problem. My car mat was stuck up under the pedal.

This alone would be a good place to stop with feeling sheepish about a lot of fuss over a simple fix. But it gets worse. I've actually had the car in the shop before and was given that same diagnosis. As soon as my dad told me what he found I thought....."Oh yeah. I've heard that before." The mat was moved back and the car ran smoothly. Lesson learned. The mat now resides in my garbage can. Hopefully this is the last of the mystery of the lack of acceleration.

(Sharon, if you happen to be up late tonight and read this before the morning, I'm still bringing the car in for the vibration!)

Well now, how do you figure that, buddy?

I love being on vacation. However, I hate getting ready for them. There is always so much last minute stuff you can't do until....the last minute. All those little details to try not to forget. Like insulin. Walked out the door this time without my insulin. You'd think that would be the first thing that gets packed, wouldn't you?

On Friday I left for vacation. I had a 6:30 PM flight out of Indy to Kansas City, where my parents were going to meet me and then we'd drive a bit further before settling in for the night. I was tense during the day because there was very little buffer built into the day. If something went wrong it meant the carefully made plans would go out the window.

From the minute I woke up very little of my plans for the day happened as I planned them. Nothing major, just little things here and there that kept causing me to adjust my plans. I left work and headed to Jami's. I was to leave my car at her house and she was going to run me to the airport. It is a 2.75 hour drive. At about .25 hours my car starts giving me trouble. The kind of trouble where you ask yourself....do I keep going or turn around or stop or....? I decided to go. I had 2.5 hours to continue to let the tension build, and try to figure a plan B if I didn't make my flight.

My lunch plans never worked out so at this point it is going on 4:00 and I hadn't eaten since early morning. My car held out and I am two exits from turning off 465 and traveling the last few minutes to Jami's. I hit some minor construction traffic. I'm still somewhat OK on time. I'm all the way over in the right lane, so that when I get to my exit I'm ready. Traffic is trying to merge from the right onto 465 and I'm watching as the "every other car" thing is happening. There is a line trying to get onto 465 and a line already on 465. One car trying to merge gets let in, and then one car already on 465 pulls up a little, and is slowly repeated.

I get to the part where it is my turn to let a car in, which I do. Then a second one creeps in. Fine. I let him in. I begin to pick up speed to go with the flow of traffic, and I notice a THIRD car that is going to demand his way in. The guy is behind me at this point, and really having to work to catch up and pass me. It has become a game of chicken, because very soon his section of road is going to disappear and if he doesn't get ahead of me he is going over a small cliff.

This joker shows no sign of giving up, and I'm guessing that rather than go over the edge he's going to swerve left into my car at any second. As tense and as irritated as the day has left me, I have the presence of mind to do what it takes to get him safely into the flow of traffic on 465. I apply my brakes and slow down enough so that he can pass me and get in. I might have also applied my horn a bit as I was slowing down. And by "a bit" I mean, I held the horn down the entire time I was slowing down and he was pulling onto 465.

The gentleman in the car pulls ahead, scoots in and responds by...you guessed it. He flips me off. Not once, not twice, but three times. And not just with his hand. He gets his whole arm and upper part of his torso into the event. It is quite possible he tore or injured a muscle in his arm with the force he put into the gesture. Movement like that usually is safest when you warm up the body part first.

I thought to myself....well now, how do you figure that, buddy? You ignore the game traffic had been playing that says one car at a time gets on. You are so far behind me that I have to slow down to let you in. I kindly let you in rather than force you off the road, and when I communicate my slight frustration with a little tap on my horn, you flip me off. Really? You are irritated with me?

With the power of hindsight it probably would have been smarter not to use my horn. It really didn't help the situation and I didn't know the mental state of the person in the car ahead of me. It just never occurred to me as this guy was dangerously forcing his way on to 465 that I'd be the one flipped off. Lesson learned though. No need to honk my horn and add fuel to the fire.

In the end I made it to the airport with plenty of time. My flight got in a few minutes early and the rest of the night was smooth sailing.

Blame it on Barbara. :-)

A few months ago I read the book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I was mainly drawn to the book because it was one of those "the challenge I took for a year" books. I'm a sucker for those. I like the idea of a challenge with a definite time limit. You know when you can quit and how long to pace yourself.

Barbara's challenge to herself and her family was to eat only locally grown and raised food for a year. There were a few exceptions and I forget the specifics but I think they included coffee, a few spices and some other staples necessary to cooking from scratch. She cut out all processed food, and things like citrus fruits (she lived in Appalachia---far from any orange groves). She had the advantage of living on a farm which produced a good majority of the food she consumed.

While she talked about her year she explained why she felt it was important to eat locally. I was so unprepared for what I was about to read. I'm not sure what I thought went into getting food on my table. Maybe I didn't think about it at all. I just assumed that the people in charge of "feeding" me had my best interest in mind. For the sake of brevity I won't repeat her book (but I highly recommend reading it!) but within a few chapters I knew I had stumbled upon the type of information that now that it was bouncing around in my head I could no longer claim ignorance or indifference.

By the end of the book I wasn't entirely sure what I believed in, but I knew what I no longer believed in. I could safely say it didn't make sense to ship a strawberry to me from California--when they are grown locally. I knew that I didn't want to support the purchase of meat or eggs if the animals weren't raised and slaughtered humanely. I was intrigued by her explaining how when a certain food was in season she ate and enjoyed large quantities, canned for the winter, and then eagerly looked forward to the next food in season.

So. Where to go from there. It would be a huge change. One without a clear map. I was given wise advice by some friends at work to just make one change at a time. (Thanks Amy and James!) When that change feels normal, it is time to make the next change. I started by giving my old friends Betty Crocker and Chef Boy-Ar-Dee a much needed vacation. I haven't fired them completely but when I looked at my eating habits very little of what I ate was prepared by my own two hands. It was reheated, warmed, nuked, poured out of a can. Fast, cheap, and easy but...time for something different. Even if it was processed I made an effort to have some hand in the preparing of my food. This translates into more time (and more dishes!) but I'm easing into it. And it tastes so much better.

I started buying organic milk. I have never been a milk drinker, but that changed once I tasted organic milk. If for no other reason than the taste, I'll never go back to non-organic.

I've visited Whole Foods a couple times while in Indy to see my sister. It is amazing as far as product selection goes. Not very "local", but lots of organic to choose from.

I tried my hand at picking my own strawberries. I had no idea what to expect. I got up bright and early on a Saturday. Hauled my sleepy self out of bed and arrived at 7:30 AM to beat the heat and crowds. The girl behind the counter asked if I wanted to pick my own or purchase already picked berries. Pick my own of course. I took my flat out to my row and pick a few. I dropped them in. It still looked really empty. Picked a few more. Dropped them in. Wow. This was going to take a while. I wore the wrong shoes and my feet were irritated with me. Then my legs lost interest. Shortly after that my back was done. So was I. I admitted defeat and went back to the check out stand and paid for my measly 4 pounds and purchased a pre-picked flat that was about 11 pounds. Who knew that picking them was only the beginning of the fun. I later got to stand in front of my sink for the rest of the morning cleaning them. When it was all done and the mess cleaned up and I had a bowl of strawberry shortcake topped with organic milk. Well....it wouldn't be the truth to say it was all worth it, but it certainly was good shortcake. Three or four months down the road when I thaw some frozen strawberries--I might think it was worth it. :-)

I've also explored my local farmer's market. I got grass-fed, grass-finished beef. Again, all other reasons aside the taste alone is enough to never go back to hamburger in the store. Knowing the cow was pasture grazed and raised in humane conditions is icing on the cake.

The fruit I've picked up has been equally amazing. I never plan to purchase a strawberry or cherry from a local grocery store again. I've also been able to get eggs, rhubarb and honey.

It certainly has been different and I don't feel very good at it yet, but for me it has been the right choice. I'm not 100% switched over. A lot of my food is still processed and I'll still stop at fast food from time to time. If there are treats brought in at work I'll eat them, but my momentum has shifted. Each time I find a new way to purchase food that is local or less processed I get a little thrill. I'm still learning!

I was so excited the first time I came home from farmer's market shopping I took pics to memorialize the event.


Local honey and grass fed, grass finished beef!


Yum! Look how red!



No matter how many strawberries I pulled out and cut this sink never seemed to get empty. Many times while standing at the sink I wondered if I was crazy to give Betty Crocker and Chef Boy-Ar-Dee their pink slips. :-)

Read Barbara's book and see if she challenges your thinking or even introduces you to things you had never thought about before. I'm glad I did!

Camping with the nastiest dog ever.

This weekend I met my sister and her family at Tippecanoe River State Park in Winamac. We do what I call faux-camping. They have a camper, complete with A/C and beds. There is still nature,sun, dirt and campfires, but at the end of the day you crawl into a somewhat comfy bed and A/C which is what separates camping from faux-camping. :-)

The campground was not the most exciting one I've been to. Admittedly, it is Northern Indiana which isn't as picturesque as areas to our south. It didn't have a pool, which changed the tone of the weekend. Both Colby and Katlyn are water bugs and would have stayed in pool as long as we let them.

I was struck this weekend at how very little "kid" is left in the kids. Colby is just past 8 1/2 and Kate is just past 6 1/2. We were close enough to the park that they could go on their own. They dress themselves. They can open and close the camper doors (which wasn't true for Katlyn last time I camped with her!) Colby is well on his way to developing that special skill set guys have for not listening and paying attention to detail.

Most of what we did this weekend was things I've done on past trips with them. Things I had seen, or knew what to expect except for.....the dog. One of my very first blog entries was about Diesel. Diesel was quite ill and not sure if he would be much longer for this world. He has since recovered, except for a bacterial infection on his skin that keeps coming back. It makes him break out, and then scratch where it itches, which opens up spots on his back, and...you get the picture. He loves to be petted and cuddled and loved on. He spent most of the weekend trying to get us to pet him and we spent most of the weekend trying to avoid petting him. Poor Diesel. Not the sharpest crayon in the box, but aside from skin issues, really a funny, enjoyable little dog. Diesel did a lot of charming things this weekend. He earnestly rooted around in the grass, eating--we aren't sure what--and then make a horrible coughing noise and spit it all back up. He'd usually wait until your leg or foot was close enough to anoint. He usually laid in this position:



which let him soak up the maximum amount of dirt. He'd lay with his slobbery mouth on the ground and his tongue hanging out, usually resting on the earth. The result was a black tongue, and dirt beard hanging off the edges of his mouth. Here's a video of wonder-dog playing with his football:



His best story was the hike we tried to take. We head out of our camp site and literally get 4 campsites down and he needs to poop. Right away there is something to carry with us for the hike. He is a fairly lazy dog and there was doubt as to whether or not he would hold up. We get on the trail, which has roughly 7 million hungry mosquitoes hiding in the bushes ready to ambush the latest humans who venture into the forest without the benefit of bug spray. If you kept a certain pace the bugs were bothersome, but not terrible. Unfortunately that pace was 8.7 miles per hour. Katelyn couldn't keep the pace and Jami was the only one sacrificial enough to stay back with her. Slowly though the dog slowed down. Slower. Slower. Slower. Eventually Katelyn was poised to pass him. We were all miserable and decided to ditch the hike and go back. The dog made it back to camp and then passed out under the trailer in complete exhaustion, and tried to cool himself down. We were gone for about 30-40 minutes.

There were other memories that didn't register on the grossness scale.

Katlyn celebrated her graduation from Kindergarten:



Morning at the Murray campsite. Colby is up, still in him pajamas, and reading. He gets that from me, I think :-)




This is kind of like where's Waldo. Can you spot the sleeping kid?





Nothing is better than waking up to the grinning face of a wiggling 6 year old who is just soooooooo happy that you finally opened your eyes, so that she can begin interacting with you. For Kate, interacting is touching, rolling on, poking, cuddling, crawling on, tickling, wrestling, giggling--even at 7:00 in the morning.

And here's one more for the road. This is the please, please, please feed me look. Literally. I was holding a treat up to get him to pose for the shot.

I can't say I wasn't warned.

I, like millions of others watched the series finale of Lost last night.

I've been so bloody confused this entire season. I can't keep up with time travel shows, and this was beyond time travel. It was time travel on crack.

I watched the entire show last night without the slightest benefit of knowing what was going on. The show ended and I still had no clue. I've read some online reviews of what the ending meant and I still can't say I have a grasp on what the ending was supposed to be.

Of course the very name of the show should have been a clue. LOST. Yep, it pretty much describes how I feel. They tried to warn me up front before the first episode aired. LOST. Other titles that could have provided full disclosure:

Waste of Your Time.

How gullible is America?

Sure, we know where we are headed with the series.

Suckers! (Yep, you)

Trust us. You'll like where we are going with this.

Except.

It was a very predictable, calm, stress free weekend, except for that email. Nothing popped up that was unexpected, or got in the way of my plans, or went terribly wrong....except....

On Saturday I was checking my emails and there was one from my Pastor. The subject was "Taylor and the Franz family". There was nothing in the subject to suggest I should open it with caution. Or pause to speak with God first. Or to turn off the background noise and pay proper attention before reading it. Taylor is the 11 year old daughter of a friend of mine. Back in the late 90's/early 00's her parents and Brooke/Dan and I were youth leaders for 6 years or so. We were a good team and it was an easy, rich friendship.

Taylor has a brain tumor. That is what the email revealed. I can remember when that kid was born. I remember she wouldn't eat my sloppy joes (she was 2 or 3 at the time) because she told Carrie she thought the meat looked like poop. I remember vacationing at Holden Beach while she was potty training and hearing over and over, "Uh-oh. Taylor peed on another couch cushion". She's grown up since, but in my head she's still a little girl. And now that little kid is facing her own mortality. She's gone beyond anything I've ever dealt with in my life. And she's eleven.

The tumor is too deep to operate on, or even diagnose as to whether it is malignant or benign. The doctors are just watching to see if it grows, shrinks, or remains the same. I don't want Carrie to have to live with that uncertainty. I don't want Taylor to walk that path. I know I'm supposed to pray for God's will to be done, but I just want to petition Him to take this off their shoulders. To rewind and put life back the way it was.

Since it was such a quiet weekend I've had a lot of time to think and pray and reflect, and very little in the way of a distraction. I still haven't wrapped my head completely around the news.

I already know I like it.

Today was one of those days that work out exactly how you hope, without a lot of effort. Just easy, fun, rich, full. My niece Kate took gymnastics lesson a year or so ago. She loves the pretty girls with glitter in their hair doing the flips and tumbles at the Olympics. The Chinese Acrobats were at the Honeywell Center in Wabash and Jami and I both knew Kate would love them.

I found out about them almost by accident--just a couple weeks before today. When I checked out the tickets there were still three great seats dead center, and the perfect distance from the stage. Our schedule's both were free. Today the weather was perfect. Everyone was in a good mood. It was fun.

The acrobats were incredible. I couldn't even do it justice to try and explain what they did. They were between the ages of 10 and 18 and effortlessly twisted and flipped and balanced and bounced around the stage for 2 hours. Within 2 minutes of the act Kate whispered to me, "I already know I like it". Jami and I knew she'd love it--and she did.

Quality Kate times involves at least 3 points of contact physically. She sat on my lap and squirmed and wiggled and fidgeted her way through the program. I was worn out by the end, but that is what it means to love Kate.

The routine for the show was for the group to comes out and do something that is mildly amazing. And then it builds. And builds. And builds. By the end of the segment your jaw is on the floor while trying to figure out how what you are seeing is physically possible. One stunt involved a girl balancing on what looked like a skateboard, but rather than four wheels, there was just one round cylinder/tube like device in the center. So she's rocking back and forth and she's handed a long dowel rod like looking stick--about 4 feet long. On the stick are three round ball type objects being balanced. She tilts her head back and puts the stick in her mouth, balancing the dowel rod and its round objects with her teeth. She is handed a hula hoop, which is introduced into the act by one at a time slipping it under her feet--while balancing on the pseudo skateboard thing. She gets the hula hoop going and then she is handed 4 rings which she gets going--2 on each arm. I couldn't even get the hula hoop going while flat footed if my life depended on it.

At one point while watching the latest mind boggling event I whispered....oh my goodness. I must have been saying that a lot because Kate elbowed me and said, "stop saying that".

As amazing as it was I wondered if the acrobats enjoyed their lives. If they were treated humanly and trained in a safe environment. If they ever got to see their families. If they were the sole support for the their families. If our applause was enough reward for the hours of practice that went into preparing for the show.

I love any chance I get to spend with Kate. I love it when the event is something she enjoys so immensely. It was a good day.

We couldn't take pics during the event. The following link should take you to a you tube clip:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QnEfUv7Ulg&feature=player_embedded

If it doesn't go there a search under, Golden Draon Acrobats - 6min feature promo, on you tube should take you to a video clip.

A most excellant surprise to come home to.

When I got home today I was greeted with this:




How fun, I thought! That wasn't there when I left this morning. Upon closer inspection I saw this:



My heart did it's happy dance. Right there in the driveway. (In case you are wondering what that looks like, it is pretty similar to my normal, everyday look. Perhaps a grin breaks out. Nothing too out of control!) I'm always amazed how God knows exactly what I need, at exactly the moment I need it. I shouldn't be amazed. He's so faithful, even when I am not.

Sunday is a mixed bag of emotions for me. You can say what you want about how Mother's Day is a day for everyone because we all had a mother give birth to us. About how I have a mother to celebrate. About how it isn't always about me. The truth is Mother's Day is a painful day for me. It doesn't point me towards what I do have, it is just a reminder of what I don't have. It feels ugly and selfish and self absorbed to say it, but that is where I'm at. I think each year as God grows and matures me, I make a little more peace with the idea of Mother's Day. I'm not there yet, and for now my usual routine is to call my Mom the day before and make sure she gets her Mother's Day props from me and then just lay low on Sunday and avoid the Mother's Day hype. This Sunday Mom will be here, and I'm heading to Indy, so we'll all be together on Mother's Day for the first time in as far back as I can remember. We didn't aim for getting together on Mother's Day. There were other events the weekend was planned around.

But back to my happy plant. :-) The plant was from Meagan and Danielle. They are my best friend Brooke's daughters. I first met the little squirts when Danielle was still in diapers and Meagan was about three years old. They are now grown, beautiful young ladies. (They are in the pic at the top of the blog. Meagan is the bride, I am to her right, and Danielle is on the other side of me. Of course no one is really looking at the camera so it doesn't really tell you who they are, but it gives you an idea)

I have had just about every pseudo-mom experience with Meagan and Danielle that a non-mom can. I babysat for them for an entire summer. I had to fish one of them out of the back of Brooke's closet when she threw a fit and hid from me. I took them to the zoo. Then cleaned the crayon off of Danielle that she sat on that had been melting all day in the hot car. It safely traveled from Ft. Wayne to Warsaw under her little leg smearing and soaking in all the way home. I drug them to pee-wee tennis lessons again their wishes. I've been to Ed-com. Helped rid the house and their heads of lice. Trick or treated with them. Vacationed with them. Cried with them when their pets died. (Tig-Tig) Traveled to and from Ohio with them when their uncle died. Two pets died on my watch while house sitting. I had to tell Meagan I killed her fish. I'm not sure if that is a pseudo-mom experience. The cat wasn't my fault, but the fish was. Still feel bad about that one. Sorry, Meagan.

I'm thankful that Brooke is secure enough in who she is to share as much of Meagan and Danielle with me as she did. I'm thankful that shortly after Meagan and Danielle outgrew that little loveable, huggable kid stage my sister gave me two new little people to experience all those things with again. (Hopefully not the lice part. A person only needs one good lice story in their life.) I'm thankful for the last two names on the card. Breydon/Claire. Life has come full circle and once again there will be a new little person to to watch grow up. Meagan is about 18 weeks pregnant and soon there will be a Breydon or Claire running around. Bliss. Many times I've heard Brooke introduce me to people as Meagan and Danielle's second mom. So, if Meagan is pregnant does that make me pseudo/gran-nope. Let's stop right there. No need to go down that path.

There's one more name on the card. Gracie. Gracie is Meagan's miniature dachshund. Cutest little dog ever. And she wished me happy Mother's Day. :-)

Back to the real world.....

For the past week I've been on vacation. I took a week off to catch up on some things I needed to do around the house. To relax. To do yard work. Mainly, though I wanted to get ready for fall craft shows prior to when I normally get ready for them---which is about two weeks before I need to have things ready :-)

I started the week with some pretty grandiose ideas as to what I was going to accomplish. I envisioned a few dedicated hours in the morning to working on crafts and then having the rest of the day to play. Ha. It quickly became apparent that I was going to need to put in more than a "few" dedicated hours.

In the end I'd say what I got done was a good start. Here are some pics of how my week was spent.





I really wish I had taken a before pic because this area was a mess. I planted a few flowers, and put down the black paper that is supposed to prevent weeds, and then mulched. As much fun as that sounds....it isn't :-). It is fun for about 30 minutes and then it becomes obnoxious. The bags are heavy. The paper doesn't stay down. Bugs fly into your mouth. As you can see there is a very distinct stripe down one section. I learned that red mulch is not universal. What Ace considers to be red is not the same as what Wal-Mart considers to be red.



These are little rabbit shaped ice packs for kids. Unlike real rabbits, these bad boys do not multiply by any other method than my two hands. I made about 50 of these.




These started out as clear ornaments and paint gets squirted in and then swirled around, and then turned over and over and over so the paint doesn't settle in one corner. This project was a low point for the week. I finished about 50 of them and this was all that worked. My paint was too thick to make it work and rather than wait until I got more paint I insisted I was going to salvage the paint. Bad call.






Scrabble tile pendants. The name is self explanatory. Little tiles from abandoned scrabble games with a small image glued on and then a tiny little bail to hang it off a chain. There are a billion little picky steps on these things. The pendant is sanded. The image is glued on. The glued image is trimmed (if needed). The image is then decoupaged with Mod-Podge. Then the decoupaged image has diamond glaze spread over it. Once dry, a bail is glued on the back. I made over 200 of these.




Little, fluffy hair bows. They remind me of a microscopic version of the hair bow atrocities we used to do ourselves in the 80's. I can remember when the bow couldn't be BIG enough. I still have some vintage 80's hair accessories. They make their way out every once in a while for Halloween. Sigh. Those were the good old days....the BIG 80's. I made about 50 of them. (the little girl version, not the big 80's version) (And yes, Jami there are some white ones making their way to Kate....)




These took f-o-r-e-v-e-r. I painted 50 pieces, but couldn't get all 50 in one pic, so I just grabbed a sampling.




Crocheted necklaces. These consist of 8 strands of ladder yarn cut to various lengths--around 2 yards. The center portion of each strand is crocheted and the ends are left uncrocheted. A couple carefully placed knots and voila, you've got yourself a necklace. I made about 100 of them.






When I needed a break from "work" I spent time on Kate's Barbie house that she will supposedly get for Christmas at some point. The goal now is to complete it before she is past the age of Barbie. She's 6 and more into dolls than Barbies at this point. Realistically I think this will be done by the time she is 18 or so. The house is made completely of plastic canvas and yarn. Plastic canvas is very very low on my usual list of medium to work with. When I started this project I didn't have so much as a scrap of the stuff in my house. Most of my obsession with crafts is that I am unbelievably fascinated with the idea of creating something out of nothing. Gets me every time. A ball of yarn and two needles and suddenly you have a sweater? I'm hooked. A plain piece of linen fabric, a chart and some colored thread and you end up with a picture? Sign me up. Some plastic canvas, yarn, 3 million hours and you get a Barbie house? I was a goner when I stumbled across the instruction book. I can't say I enjoy working with plastic canvas, nor do I ever see myself making anything with plastic canvas after this project is over. I'm now working on the entry way and each time something becomes recognizable I get the same stupid grin on my face. "Oh my goodness---it was a flat piece of plastic canvas and now it is a little set of stairs". "Wow. A door! And just before this it was.....plastic canvas." The thing is going to be huge. There is a second floor, and then a roof that goes over this level. My plan is to finish the first floor for Christmas this year, and then hope that Kate will be as fascinated by it as I am. And that she offers to help with the second level. We'll see.

There are other things that happened this week that you can't capture with a picture. A lot of organizing and cleaning. Sleep. Relaxing. A week without an alarm clock. My roommate (who is very quiet and very reserved) bursting in the living room Saturday night loudly announcing there were two bats flying around in my garage. (Great I thought. What the heck do you do with bats.) I asked her if it was a bird. She assured me they weren't bird because birds do not get to where they are going and then crawl into a hole. Nope, they don't. She wanted to march me out to the garage to show them to me. In this instance I didn't need to see to believe. We went to the door and cracked it open. Couldn't see a thing. She was quite content to fully open the door and step into the garage to show me where they crawled into. I was quite content to have her stay in the house and point to the area where they hid. If they got into the room I knew the only course of action would be to run screaming from the room. Slam the door shut, and then never used that room again.

All in all it was a good week. It went way too fast. As today drew to a close I was tempted to wish that I had a second week off, but I didn't. The last time I was on vacation (in Omaha) and I wished for just a few more days in Omaha my wish came true. Unfortunately it was in the form of the flu being visited on 90% of the humans in the house. Not this time. I'll just appreciate the time for what it was and look forward to doing it again next year!