Changing Gears for Summertime

I think a personal summer challenge should be to write more than three posts a month. Even that will be a challenge with the way our summer is shaping up.

It isn't really warming up, that's for sure. We're somehow still in spring mode, weather wise, including the rain. We don't even have our garden in the ground yet because of all the rain and cloudy days. No corn this year.

I'm trying to think what happened in the last couple of weeks. Well, for starters, I came home one day by bus, skipped up the front steps greeting the chickens, and was met at the door by my grim-faced mother. 

"Before you come in, I need to tell you something."

Naturally, my first thought is, "Great. Who died." My bus driver no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor. I know my shoulders drooped and I tensed up.

"What?" I asked cautiously.

"Sasha was hit by a car."

Commence meltdown.

Most of you already know the end of this story. Mom had warned me because Sasha was in miserable agony and on edge. I came in quietly and knelt beside her where she lay on a towel spotted with blood. Mom explained that she'd just put Sasha out and was painting when she heard a noise outside and looked out to see a dog lying on the side of the road across from our house. Some older lady had been driving a van (which hadn't reached the speed limit for our stretch of road, as evidenced by the fact that my dog was still alive) and Sasha, who had mysteriously escaped from her run, had darted in front of the vehicle. Mom went out calling to Sasha, who didn't respond at first, and the lady turned around in a neighbor's driveway and came back, hysterical.

"Is that your puppy?"

By this time, as I understand it, Sasha had stood up on her own and dragged herself into our yard. Mom got her inside and called the vet. They said it wasn't safe to sedate her in order to x-ray her while she was so alert and still so much in shock. Mom was afraid her leg was broken.

I'd heard the nasty stories of people with broken bones, and how sometimes you can see the broken parts pressing the skin. Sasha's right front leg, the injured leg in question, didn't look mangled or twisted or unnaturally positioned in any way. She also had a cut lip (as in you could see how her tooth had bit right through it) and a few small-ish open wounds on her other legs. She was quiet and still, which in and of itself is startling. Mom said when she'd first brought Sasha inside, Sasha had been hyperventilating and thrashing around.

A little while later, Sasha started that back up, and I about broke down, wondering why on earth we had to wait for tomorrow morning to help her. We couldn't give her any sort of human pain meds in case there was internal bleeding (which, Mom warned me, the vet wouldn't be able to deal with).

However, as the day worn on, Sasha started rolling onto her back to encourage me to scratch her belly and even hobbled a bit when I carried her outside. She didn't drink much and wouldn't eat, though.

Fast-forwarding to the vet visit the next day:

Thankfully, no one else was there. Sasha's last vet visit was a nightmare, as you may recall. However, miraculously, Sasha didn't turn into a slavering beasty when the vet and his assistants appeared. She just maintained her miserable appearance. The vet had me walk her around (I'd carried her from the car and up the steps) and decided her leg wasn't broken or fractured, because no dog would walk on a leg in that condition (although, this is my dog...). Then he took her into the other room.

I cowered in a corner, afraid of the moment when Sasha would snap and show her dark side.

She growled darkly for a while as Mom stood beside her and the vet checked (or tried to check) her mouth. Finally, the vet asked Mom to step outside. Like children, animals act differently when their "parents" are around. He said a soothing owner reaffirms an animal's suspicions that the situation merits fear and retaliation. Good to know. If I want my dog to behave, I'll just step out of the room.

Fast-forwarding again: in the end, the diagnosis was bruising and nerve damage on her right leg and shoulder and some cuts that would heal on their own. Huzzah!

For the next few nights, while she still was having trouble walking, I slept in the living room with Sasha. She wasn't supposed to get excited (and for that we had medicine, which turned Sasha from her hyperactive self to a semi-normal dog). Oh, and we were warned that "in rare cases some dogs will up and die a few days after an accident as a delayed reaction from the shock, even though they looked healthy. I don't want to worry you, but I have to warn you." Comforting, no?

So my obsessive self eyed my dog nervously for the next few days, wondering if, true to character, she was one such rare dog. I know: morbid. I don't know what to tell you.

And that was that. She's still hobbling, but her spirit is back.

Mom thinks her mysterious escape ("mysterious" because she didn't break any part of the lead or her collar) was brought on by the presence of a certain rooster who had been stalking our house for the past week. No one will claim the stupid bird, and he kept strutting up crowing like Peter Pan and attacking our chickens to assert his authority. He even had the ducks scared. He plucked poor Presley's head feathers and chased some of the others under the cars. It took days, a lot of rocks, gardening tools, and other flying projectiles and eventually Dad with a disc to convince him that this was our territory. We haven't seen him since.

Our own roosters (and we have at least six, and one crowed once at me but which Heather still believes is a hen) are starting to work on their crowing. Rex (formerly "Arexi", the little Bantum) is the loudest. He's still by far the smallest, though one of the Polish (Elvis, the girl) is close, but Rex knows how to strut his stuff and crows defiantly at anyone or anything who questions his authority. The ducks are bigger and still as nervous and clique-ish as ever. We had some friends over a couple days ago and the girls wanted to catch one of the ducks. At one point Heather was following them and they came around a car not knowing the ducks were there. One of the ducks was so startled that he fell over like a fainting goat.

I can't think of anything else right now except for VBS, which I am helping with this year. (I haven't attended or helped with VBS in a while.) It helped me make up my mind that the theme is "The Great Western Round-Up". I am working with the kids on the Green Team to memorize their verses each night. While they eat.

Do you know how hard it is to get hyper, excited, hungry children to pay attention when there's food in front of them? It's a study in patience, I will say. And I think I may already be losing my voice.

The kids are split into three age groups after the opening assembly and penny offering. The groups rotate throughout different activities and classes before returning to the main auditorium for a final lesson, songs, and a couple group games. We were all singing along and I was repeatedly poking the shoulders of misbehaving children in front of me when one of them turned around and informed me that I had "the voice of an angel." And I don't think it was a compliment. 

I'm just trusting that someday I'll be thankful for all my voluntary work with children. I'm already thankful for past experience. I only uttered one dangerous word (being "butt", as in "those workers are busting their butts *cough* to get you your food, so please be nice to them") and I don't think I really lost my cool, though I was almighty close.

We return again tonight. I wore my only decent Western outfit last night (and it turned out better than I'd hoped). I might go into town later and check out some thrift stores, it being my day off. Can you believe I only have one decent denim skirt? Me, the former homeschooler. I know.

Oh! We also had our annual BBQ Fundraiser Dinner. I forgot about it because it wasn't the usual tiring day for me. I worked the money table. Well, before that Mom and I and a lady from church spent all day baking 45 cakes at the church. We had a decent turn-out, and I always love helping. 

Well, I need to go. Hopefully I will return tomorrow....

It's that Time of Year (and I don't mean Christmas)

For my youth group, the highlight of the year is Youth Conference. Undeniably. Some of my best youth group memories are from youth conference. 

This year, I'm going as a chaperone. Gah! Okay, semi-chaperone. Basically, I've been promoted from happy, carefree teen to teen with responsibilities and younger roommates. I was told I could go as a teen or a chaperone, whichever I wanted, and I chose chaperone because I'd like to help out with the event instead of just participate.

As always, I can't believe we'll be leaving this Sunday! Something that's contributed to the surreality (yeah, that's a word) is probably the fact that just yesterday we had our annual fundraiser dinner. Normally that happens in June. Before fireworks tent.

Tuesday, Mom took us girls out to try to get some last minute sales from the car dealerships. They've bought in the past, but this year only yielded sales from one place. Probably because it was such short notice. Ah, well.

Yesterday, I was up by 7 (well, that's when I set my alarm, anyway) so I would be good and ready to go by 8:15. We ran out to collect the tally for sales and then headed to the church. The health inspector was coming by, so we kids hid on the opposite end of the church for a while. When the inspector finally left, we jumped right into preparing a huge order. (Lunch is mostly big orders to be delivered to companies, and supper is walk-ins, usually church people.)

I was on the brisket side of the table, as I have been every year but last. Throughout the day, people shifted around so all the girls worked brisket and the guys had chicken.

The day was busy, but not really the sort of activity I can say much about (at least, not much that's interesting and not rambling.) I served up brisket and yelled for more brisket and dished up baked beans and tried to ignore my aching feet and salivated over brisket we weren't allowed to eat in case we ran low. (You'd think working over food all day would mean you weren't hungry for it, but this time every year I really crave BBQ brisket. Go figure.) My hands were sweaty from wearing gloves and my hat kept falling low over my eyes and I was thirsty. However, now that I've slept, I can say I enjoyed the whole ordeal. After all, the proceeds go to Youth Conference, bringing the cost for each kid down. Yay!

Dad and Mom teach a class on Wednesday night with which Heather had been helping, but last week we traded places. Since we're so close to everyone moving into their new grades, we don't really have a lesson we're working on, so I got to sit at the back with Mom and pretend I was awake.

When we got home, I had every intention of going to bed, but that didn't happen until 10:30 or later. Instead, I watched some TV with Dad while we waited for news from Mom, who was at the hospital with a friend who was 42 weeks pregnant and going for a C-section. After that good news arrived and made it a very full day, I went to sleep.

But little of this has very much to do with Youth Conference. On that subject:

Mom took us girls shopping...last week? And since then I've been mentally packing, making lists, looking over the extensive and detailed schedule one of our amazing and very organized youth workers compiled, panicking over my lack of practice on a song I'll be singing with Heather and another girl, and trying to proceed with normal life. Funny how we all build up to this one week, spend months preparing for and thinking about it, and then it's gone in a flash.

There's something philosophical in that, but I can't dig it out right now.

Unless I get abnormally productive in the next few days concerning this blog, the next you'll hear from me will   be after Youth Conference. And probably a little while after that, because I'll no doubt need to process everything and try to sort out the blur. Man, I love this time of year.

I Almost Collapsed in the Middle of the Road (or: When it rains, it pours, and I can't swim)

Note: the majority of this post was written on Thursday. You may notice I kind of switch tenses near the end where I finished up on Friday because it was very late by the time I got around to writing this.

Yes, I'm kind of attached to the saying "When it rains, it pours". It's very applicable lately. I've already used it once today, on a facebook status, but I'm here to say it again.

As Mom aptly put it: "Well, I'm drowning."

The day started out normal. (Yes, I've had other adventures over the past week, but I don't want to bother with a recap, so we'll go with something more recent.) I'd gone to bed late because I got home late last night after a singles' activity at the youth pastor's house. (My first one, and I never thought I'd go to one. Ever.) So I pushed my alarm up to 7:30. Sasha was already mad at me for not getting to bed until 11:30, but she was ready to go by 7:00.

So I get up, take her out, switch out laundry, wash some dishes, water the garden, shock the pool. Kind of meandering through the morning. Fireworks tents are on, and I've been spending my afternoons there because I'm one of a select few individuals who can run register. However, today is route day, so I was mentally preparing myself for an afternoon where I wasn't sitting around bracelet braiding and trying to convince strangers that they need the $20 buy-one-get-one mortar with a couple bottle rockets thrown in and some smoke grenades for the kids. Fun stuff.

Anywho. Mom was keeping in contact while she worked out who was picking us up and when and all that fun stuff. There's been a lack of communication lately and all kinds of trouble with schedules, so it's been touch-and-go all week. For a while it looked like Heather and I wouldn't be picked up until 12:30. Suddenly, in the middle of my bowl of mac and cheese, Mom's saying someone else will be by at 11:30.

So I rush around shoveling food in my mouth and grabbing library books in case a library run turns out to be possible and taking allergy medicine and feeding the dogs, and then we're off! It turned out to be the youth pastor's wife picking us up, and her four-year-old was along for the ride. We had to stop by the paper to get Mom's papers, and said four-year-old started panicking, thinking we weren't in fact going back to his house but were going to deliver papers. (His three older brothers have routes and he often has to come along.)

Once we had papers, we headed to the tent. Mom was there alone with a few customers. I took a seat and dug through the cooler for something to munch, and made the wise decision of adding a few shots of energy drink mix to my water. (Sounds terrible and alcoholic, I know, but it's actually very healthy and tasty. But it can still produce side effects in some people which are similar to what would happen if they were drunk.)

We were waiting for the woman who was supposed to get us after 12 to arrive so she could sit with Heather, the youth pastor's wife and son could leave, and we could take her car on routes instead of our broken down Beast (AKA Expedition). While we waited, the four-year-old moped about making growling noises and saying his stomach needed food and begging for water and yodeling behind a pile of boxes, and I filled Mom in on the events of the previous night's activity.

I know. Pretty much none of this is relevant, but I need to ramble a bit, Please bear with me.

A couple days ago, it was breezy and cool in the day and actually cold at night. Not today. Almost 100 degrees and very humid, and while the breeze was a few degrees cooler, it didn't really help. I was dreading routes, but wondered if it would be better than sitting still in that big, stuffy tent.

Finally the other lady arrived and Mom and I set out. We had to do things quite out of order because of where we were located in relation to the routes, but it's nice to change things up, especially when we needed to keep our minds off the temperature. We ran the air for a little while, but turned it off so it wouldn't mess with the...radiator? Whatever part of the car has a gauge on the dashboard where the needle should never go into the red area.  :)  Yeah, so it was still hot, but we had a breeze which helped relieve the heat ever so slightly. And Mom was already drenched in sweat, so she didn't notice as much.

We were maybe 15 minutes into routes when Mom saw the steady trail we were leaving on the road, and the puddles wherever we sat still. And then the car started having trouble shifting. In 5 more minutes, we were in trouble, and Mom was headed back to the tent. We got about 3 blocks, stopped and a red light, and didn't move again.

And of course, this city has all those poorly-planned intersections. Just what we needed.

We'd already called the owner of the car to let her know what was happening, and then Mom called the youth pastor's wife. She said we just needed to get it into a parking lot. We were very close to a car wash and Pizza Hut.

Look! A map! A picture on my blog! Only because it is much easier to explain with a visual reference.

The red dot is where we were stopped, right by the light and a tricky intersection. The blue spot is approximately where the Pizza Hut parking lot was located, which Mom figured would be easier to get into than the car wash one. (No, I didn't make the map. I tried, and failed miserably. That was courtesy of Google maps. I just simplified it and added the dots.)

We waited through four or five cycles of traffic signals, with some people behind too blind and impatient to see our hazards on, and some pausing to make sure we were okay. Of course, my extreme caution when it comes to negative roadside situations that have any possibilities of resulting in some sort of accident. Of course, Mom didn't have to tell me to sit still and keep my seatbelt on until our help arrived.

Thankfully, it wasn't the four-year-old but the fourteen-year-old who came along with his mom. And he's not a wimp. I hopped out and got ready on one side of the back of the car, my hands on the hot surface. Of course, I was wearing flip-flops. As the other lane's light turned red, we started pushing. It took some time, but we eventually gained momentum and then I was jogging a bit behind, out of breath and starting to feel asthmatic. We started to pass the car wash and a bunch of men working on the sign saw us and started laughing. I was too busy focusing on not falling down flat on my face.

Thankfully, my youth pastor's wife was wearing a bright pink shirt and her son had a neon yellow shirt on. Me, I was in a thick, dark gray t-shirt. About halfway through, with one hand on the trunk (and that more to steady myself than to keep the car in motion), I was feeling a bit dizzy.

Then we had to get the car up the incline into the parking lot. The youth pastor's wife called out a countdown to Mom, and then we dug in. The car slid into the nearest parking lot, and I went to sit down in the passenger seat. I had that almost cold, wheezy feeling in my throat, so I guzzled my energy-enfused water.

Then we loaded everything up in the youth pastor's van and headed to their house, where we dropped them off and tried to remember where we'd left off with routes.

By the time we finished and got back to my youth pastor's house so they could take us back to the tent and take their van to do their own routes, it was almost 4:00. Papers have to be delivered by 5:00. Of course, their routes are walking routes which they've got down to about 45 minutes, so I had faith in them.

Back at the tent, I moped around drinking water and wishing I had something to do. I made a few sales when Mom ran to the bathroom, even convincing a woman that she needed the $20 buy-one-get-one mortar when all she was going to buy was little things like bottle rockets and sparklers. Score!

It was definitely better to me to be on routes than stuck sitting at the tent. Mom would probably disagree because she was still sitting still the whole time, and then we had to turn on the defroster in the van to bring the heat down in the...radiator?? (Yeah, same thing as the car.) Me, I got to get out and move pretty often.

We made a few sales, but mostly we sat around begging the very dark looking clouds coming our way to let loose with a rain storm so we could dance in it. Nothing happened. There'd only been a 17% chance of rain and thunderstorms.

By 6:00, I was so ready to just go home and take a shower and then do nothing. Wes came to get Heather and I and we had to make a trip to Walmart, for which I remained in the car and sweat buckets, but I was feeling a bit dizzy and wanted to sit down. Then we had to run back to the tent because I'd forgot something.

Finally, home! Of course, I couldn't take a shower yet because I had to be on watch for a pool party. Allenna had a few friends over to go swimming and Mom likes someone outside the pool keeping an eye on them. It wasn't too bad, and I got some cute pictures.

That's pretty much how the day went. For some reason, I still didn't get to bed until around 11:00.