In Summer

It's June. At long last, the warmth is guaranteed to stay.

For me, this is windows-open season. Living in a house without air conditioning (as has been the case for as long as I can recall), I have learned to take advantage of cool nights when I can stick a box fan in front of my window. I love fresh air.

I usually roll down my windows when I'm driving, foregoing the AC unless it's unbearably hot outside (which apparently I'm not allowed to complain about all summer because I complained about how bad winter was). I also like to listen to my own music in the car because I can't stand most talkative DJ's and commercials. 

Thing is, I have a hard time resisting the urge to sing along to my music. Ever.

With windows-down season in full swing, this presents a problem. Because I really get into my music. Particularly after I purchased the "Frozen" soundtrack. I'd sing along to the opening song if I understood the words. I'm not a fan of "Let it Go" (overdone, sadly), but I am quite content to blast "Love is an Open Door" all day. (Personal favorite.)

Up until now, the majority of cars I have passed have had their windows up, so I hum and sing to my heart's content. But the windows are coming down, and I keep catching myself at stoplights before someone notices the blonde serenading with Olaf about the joys of summer. I've taken to switching on the radio on the drive home from work because I'm less likely to find a song I want to join in on (and the station I play has one of the only DJ's I can tolerate). 

Last week, I kept my windows down while I was at work because I hate getting into a stuffy car. What I got into instead was a car full of pollen.

Do you know how hard it is to sing with pollen flying in your face? After the first choking fit, I closed my mouth. It also took days for all the pollen to clear out.

So it's summer. (Almost officially). We took a hike for Memorial Day, Wes's birthday is coming up, all my tulips have faded, there's still traces of sunlight close to 10:00 at night, and it's almost VBS time again.

This year's theme is Sports.

I have absolutely nothing to wear.

I would have loved to find something off-the-wall, like a scuba diving outfit or a fencing uniform or what-have-you. As it is, I'm stumped and will probably throw my hair up in a ponytail, tie on some sneakers, and pretend I'm training for a marathon or something. None to excited about the prospects.

However, I am very excited for the penny offering. I've been saving my loose change since September (in a bona fide piggy bank, no less) and have upwards of $30 to contribute to my lucky team. I'm trying to decide if I should dispense it sneakily throughout the week or bring in one large box of pennies on the last night.

I'm blathering now. Better go. I have a seriously post I'm working on, full of rants and Bible verses and carefully researched facts (maybe), but studying tends to take me a while so that's not ready yet.

Oh! I finished a book! 103,000+ words. It's the one about the dragon who can't fly. I know I mentioned it sometime...last year? Whenever I started it. Been a while. Hopefully summer and fresh air mean the return of productivity. We shall see.

Springtime - the Colorful Part

As I have said before, spring is my favorite season. However, within that season, there is a specific time which I always anticipate more than anything else about spring, and that time has come:

The trees are green again.

It always seems to catch me by surprise. One day I'm walking along, kicking through puddles and grinning and bits of green poking up in the garden, and then I look up and realize the trees are bursting with that sharp, bright new green of springtime.

Were I able to dance, I would do so every year when this happens. As is, I content myself with a whoop and a fist pump.

It's ridiculous, really.

Speaking of gardens, I am finally getting my own in place. The vegetable garden has yet to be established, and once it is we will be loading it with mature plants, like as not. However, Mom and Dad granted me my own "bit o' earth" in which I can cultivate a flower garden. Probably scattered with herbs, because they are my new obsession.

At the moment, I have a small 2x6 stretch of exposed earth with some grape vine cuttings and a couple canna bulbs. That stretch will probably get some more annuals set in. At the other end of the garden my new rose bush is in place with another canna in an old metal pot. Eventually I'll be setting up a spot for some peonies and hens-and-chicks, and I'd like to add more cottage style plants and the herbs throughout the season.

All of this I am doing with little more than my gloves, a trowel, a chicken, and a machete.

Yes. Machetes make great gardening tools. I pulled Dad's out of the garage, Wes sharpened it, and I'm using it to cut away the sod. Lobelia is my faithful gardening partner. She realized I was digging the other day and came over inquiring about worms. When she discovered there were also June bugs aplenty (eugh), she was ecstatic. (Note: chickens are also great for pest control.)

We pulled the chicks (did I mention we have about 30 more we got last month?) outside to get some fresh air, and I treated them to samplings of worms as well. If you want some cheap(ish) entertainment, get chickens. When they first taste worm.... Oh, it's hilarious. Our little bully Albert was always too slow and the girls would taunt him with their catch. He ended up standing in the middle of the pen screaming in hurt and indignation.

My weekend was full of fresh air and dirt and ant bites. On Friday, Mom took me with her on a run around town to check some yard sales, and we got a wheelbarrow. I am in the process of spray painting it sky blue. The girls like the color, though Mom and Dad are more skeptical. 

I also found a model ship that had been stored in the previous owner's tool shed. It's missing a couple sales and it's quite dusty, but for $7 you won't find me complaining.

So that's been my week. Well, that and we had Missions Revival last week. Always a wonderful time. It's one of my favorite annual events at church. The speaker was our missionary to the Philippines. He also spoke last year. The challenge was "serving as senders", and he spoke on how we as a church can support our missionaries in all aspects of their work, from furlough to the field and back.

Next on the list of church events is VBS. I pitched in last year and loved it, so I committed myself to returning this year. The theme will be more difficult than last year (which was Western): sports.

I'm not a sporty person. The best I manage is a leisurely jog. If only I could rent a fencing uniform.... Actually, I want to dig up something obscure or weird, like scuba diving or dressage. Regrettably, most uniforms are skin-tight or look ridiculous off-field. But that's half the fun, right?

So that's life at the moment. I should have more news to share in the next couple of days. The eggs Mom put in the incubator are starting to hatch. Their breeds are a complete mystery. We were hoping for some Barred Rock eggs, but we aren't really sure what we put in. I'm still hoping we don't end up with one whose father is Gerard or - horror of horrors - the late Presley or Aidan. Here's hoping.

How I'm Slowly Coming to Grips with Adulthood

I'm sitting in another coffee shop this evening, polishing off some hot chocolate and contemplating the wrap and pie I just ate, which almost filled my meal budget for a week.

Yes, it was delicious.

Per usual, I don't really have much to say. I'm trying to work myself back into the blogging rhythm. Bear with me. Or, conversely, come back in a month and see how I'm doing.

In a month, I'll be 20. Yikes.

I'm not ready for that, guys. Mostly mentally, though a little emotionally as well. 12-year-old me was sure I would at least have a boyfriend by now and be halfway around the world on some grand adventure, or autographing my latest best-seller.

I miss childhood. The world felt so much bigger then. Now I'm settled into my adult job, doing my best to budget and dealing with the responsibilities of maintaing my own car, buying my own clothes and food, and not having to run every social engagement by my mother for approval. (Seriously, she is insisting I be the independent little adult she raised me to be and plan stuff without her ok. It's weird.)

Most days I struggle with my lack of time management skills. I get the feeling this may be a life-long practice. Bother it all, but I am bad at it. Once upon a time, I was that little girl in the corner stuck in her book with a bag of chips. Now I only snatch enough time to read right before bed or in the morning before work. It hurts.

Also, I forgot to mention that over the winter (starting in September, really) I went on something of a health kick. Suddenly I found myself enjoying hummus (which I once swore I would never eat), buying essential oils at the health food store downtown, craving organic granola, and snubbing potato chips and pizza. What? Part of it can be attributed to the fact that by September I had been working a real job for a year. A job that required me to be on my feet and moving around. Turns out what I wanted during my beautiful childhood was a little more activity and a little less curling up to read. Much as it pains me to admit. (Come on. One fencing class made up the whole of my school sports career.)
When I switched to my desk job this September, I had a small moment of panic. Suddenly I was back to sitting for most of the day.
In short, I'm more conscientious of what I eat now. I'm even contemplating a membership at the gym. (Please contain your shock.) But I'm still learning, still adjusting. I'm slow like that. My biggest struggle right now is the feeling that I'm just spinning my wheels. I can't quite explain it, but it's like I just can't manage everything in my life, like I'm missing something in the chaos. Not that I have a lot going on, but I'm trying to figure out how to arrange everything so I can still do the things I love, the things that matter.
I think part of it is this horrible weather. Usually I love winter, or at least know how to endure it, but this one is making me feel a little stir crazy. I'm daydreaming of my garden this year. We didn't get one in last year, and that was rough. Which is silly, because before then I had a grand total of two years as a gardener. I put in a load of bulbs around the front of the house, and I'm eager to see how they will look. Mom is making plans for the vegetables we will have. Mostly I'm happy that the chickens will be contained to their run and I will be able to enjoy the fruits of my labors in peace without worrying that someone's beak will destroy them for a snack.
I'm also hoping to get into a good walking/running habit with Sasha. She's been driving us all a little crazy lately with her boundless energy. It's embarrassing what a terrible dog owner I turned out to be. Live and learn, right?
The beauty is that I can only imagine the ways God is going to use all of what I'm learning. I'm just trying my best to make the most of it while I'm here. My inner child whispers that somewhere there is a lesson that could save my life one day. That annoying mature, practical part of me groans.
I came here tonight with Mom, who had a Search and Rescue group meeting. Wanting to meet the people she and Dad always talk about, I joined them in their separate room for a while. It got weird when I choked on a bite of lettuce and realized if I showed signs of distress, I'd have half-a-dozen people jumping to offer assistance. Wesley and Heather know how well I handle the suggestion of CPR. I carefully and slowly swallowed that lettuce and soon left. And now I'm waiting, because I didn't expect it to take this long.
At least here I don't have the distractions I'd have at home. Like chores and a dirty room and a cuddly puppy and one of Allenna's shows on TV. That's the problem with me and time management: I have time, but worrying about how to manage it leaves me tired and I end up wasting my time.
And I'm just rambling. I should probably go. I will say, before I do, that my goal is to blog Fridays and Tuesdays as often as I can manage. I never realized how much of a stress relief blogging is to me. (Well, the stress mostly came from guilt that I wasn't blogging, but....) So until Friday, I hope!

Breaking the Silence

So that was an unintentionally long absence...of a month.

Right.

Not that I'm not busy and have nothing to say. On the contrary, I have plenty to say. But I got stuck on a Peru-related post and writer's block is an obstacle with which I still struggle. I plan to return to the Peru topic  after a while, but I'm going to let it rest for now because my life remains ever eventful and I don't want to miss that.

I think the hardest part of blogging is picking it back up after not writing for a while. Followed closely by figuring out what to write.

I don't want to do a recap. Not a full one, at least. I don't want to jam this post chock-full of ramblings.

High on the list of "important things happening in Amber's life" is that I got a new job! It came in a round-about way after I'd given up on a different job opportunity I'd been pursuing. The company is owned by friends of ours, and Wesley worked for them a couple summers ago. Our family histories met years ago when Mom was worked at a pizzeria owned by the wife. (Ah, such found memories....)

A very basic way to describe my job would be along the lines of "office administration", though it entails more than it sounds (and I now know what it feels like when someone says their head is "swimming"...). It's a (mostly) desk job, though my new dwelling with not be a cubicle. Actually, at the moment my area of operations is right next to a big window.

Mom worked this same position in a part-time capacity a while ago, so she's able to help me (or sympathize, mostly) as I adjust. I don't officially start until the week of the 22nd, because I have to work through my last two weeks at the smoothie shop. However, I've already run a few "practice rounds", so I have a very basic understanding of what I will be doing. Very basic.

Let's see....

We got more hens a while back. Two Ameracaunas (or Easter Eggers, as I believe they are in truth), some true Rhode Island Reds (decidedly darker and more red than our original batch), and some more White Leghorns. It took them a few days to get adjusted to the rigamarole of life among the Royce flock, as well as a couple nights hiding under the coop or in the trees, but they're pretty well integrated now. Soon we will bid adieu to most of our roosters, and for most of them we couldn't be happier to see them go. Presley, one of our Polish roosters, is maniacal and lives solely to torment every living creature he comes in contact with. Some of the Buffs (who all turned out to be roosters) are almost equally evil, and are the epitome of everything I despise in chickens. We have one guy who's decent and for the most part ignores us, which I guess is the best we can hope for.

Oh. And the ducks are both drakes, unfortunately. They are dubbed Aflac and Waddles, and they remain ridiculously endearing.

The only other thing I can think of right now is that Autumn is nearly upon us. Last week we had one day in the high 90's with lots of humidity, and a few days later we woke up to temperatures just above freezing. The trees are on the brink of turning. We're all thinking a road trip is in order.

I pulled out my collect of scarves and fingerless gloves and am eager to return them to use. Spring is still my favorite season to experience, but Autumn is my favorite for the wardrobe.

Okay. I have nothing of use to say, so I'll cut this short. Now that my reintroduction is over, I can move on to more important things. Good grief.

Lightning Bugs and Lightning (and mosquitoes)

Summer nights around our house have been pretty amazing lately. I only wish I was better with a camera (and then had a camera...). Every night the lightning bugs have put on beautiful shows. Do you know how cool it is to drive down a road surrounded by corn fields and see the lightning bugs flashing like crazy? Not only that, but I love star gazing on summer nights (provided I have bug repellent). It's just another perk of moving to the country.

The animals aren't quite so captivated by the lightning bugs. The dogs and cat ignore them for the most part and the chickens only wonder how good they are to eat. The ducks, however, didn't know what to make of them one of the first nights they showed up. I was out settling the chickens for the night. As I was walking back toward the house to turn on the hose, I met the ducks. They were telling me off, as usual, screaming about something or other and following me back to the coop. All of a sudden, a lightning bug floated in front of their faces and lit up. The lead duck was so startled he stopped short and pulled back. And fell silent.

Until I laughed at him.

Last night was even more amazing than our average summer night this year. We've had a bit of a heat wave (like practically every other state in the country). Earlier we'd had a brief but powerful storm, mostly wind and rain. It had cleared up pretty quickly and the day remained muggy. However, Heather came running in from corralling her ducks and said to come quick because there was a storm building and involved lightning. Mom and I followed her out.

All along the north sky there were thick clouds full of lightning; both flashes that filled the clouds and streaks that forked through and even shot out like snake tongues. Pretty soon I was sent back in to get Mom's camera, and Heather followed for hers. This was too good of a show to pass up, because what photographer (casual, amateur, or professional) wouldn't like to get a picture of lightning?

I took mosquito decoy duty while Mom and Heather snapped away. When they paused to wait for cars to pass or to check and see if they got any good shots, we'd raise a chorus of "ooo"s and "ahhh"s. While they clicked away, I stood back in wonder at the display. To add to the spectacle we had a bright moon in clear skies behind us and the lightning bugs were all over. I ran back in to get the tripod and grabbed Mom's phone because Dad had texted. I ended up catching a picture of a lightning streak and, satisfied with my surprising success, retreated inside.

Of course, I took stock of my bug bites. I've been having worse-than-average reactions to mosquitoes lately, and they like to cluster on one spot whenever they attack. I had a good twenty bites on my legs and ankles, but only one on my arm. Naturally.

Years ago, our family took a hiking trip. I can't even remember where we went. We were near dunes, but were in a forest. It was either late spring or early autumn, and we kids were complaining of cold and begging to cut the hike short. Dad stopped and looked at us seriously. He told us to stop whining and enjoy ourselves, because it was a beautiful day and the view was amazing, and that's what we would remember if we'd pay attention. We'd forget about the cold and the wind in no time, and recall instead the breathtaking views of the dunes from a wooded hilltop, or the zig-zagging trail winding around tree roots, or just the joy of spending time with family doing what we loved.

It's his words that helped me remember that trip, and the sights associated with it. I don't know how it's stuck with me, but it came to mind when I was thinking about last night's spectacle. I'll remember that a lot longer than the bug bites. I remember the double rainbow I saw a few years ago better than I remember the terror of driving through tornado weather on a road trip. I remember the fun of a sledding trip and forget about the cold and the damp. I remember the fun of sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows and singing songs and not the fatigue of a long week at camp.

But you have to choose to move beyond the discomfort, the unpleasant parts, and focus on the good and the thrill and the wonderful displays of God's handiwork. It requires a conscience effort, and perhaps a little time afterward for reflection (and some sort of ointment to soothe the bug bites).

Yes, I am kind of preaching to myself in light of our Peru trip. I'm trying to get it into my head that there will be so much to enjoy and learn and take away from this opportunity that I can't let myself be held back by my own silly psychological issues.
And I have to get going now to make some more progress on preparing for that trip. I'm mostly packed, and I only "need" to buy one or two more things. This time on Monday I'll be either in a plane or in an airport. I still can't process that....

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....

Springtime, true to form

So, I sat down to blog today after my inexcusable absence and discovered a short draft of a post I'd started a week ago and completely forgotten about. Right. So here's that:

Jessi informed me yesterday that you cannot have a dream involving people you've never seen before. I have to wonder how that works for writers, because we often vividly imagine fake people.

Any way, I'm still trying to decide how I feel about that fact, because what brought it up was me telling her about my dream Sunday night.

As you may have guessed, it was another wedding dream.

This was has just cause. One of my cousins got married on Saturday.

My groom had a face! I just can't remember it. I do remember the hair color, which has been pretty consistent. But the ceremony wasn't even a key part of the dream. Nope. We got stuck in the Canadian wilderness in a blizzard. Go figure.

And on with more recent junk!

We've been getting a literal flood of true spring weather. The main road we take into town has been closed the last few days and we've all had to adjust our routes. Irritating, to say the least. However, I haven't even had to worry about driving lately, because.... I've been taking the bus.

Yes. This lovely city of ours has a bus system. (Actually, I have to use the county bus system because of where we live.) No one in the family really even acknowleged the fact until last week when Wes's van went ka-poot and suddenly I had no way of getting to work. Until my boss reminded me of the bus, which a co-worker uses.

Mom grabbed the idea like it was a life line and she in a hurricane.

I about had a nervous breakdown. It was pitiful and childish. I am ashamed.

In short, I've had...eight bus rides now! Yay me. On the first one, I actually sat with notebook in had and scribbled out every random thought, intending to turn it into this long blog post. Obviously, that didn't happen, and I am so glad! In short, I toughened up and managed to get through, though inside I felt like a piece of Jell-O at the mercy of a fork-weilding toddler. By God's grace (and yes, I mean that) the driver of my first-ever bus ride was super nice. Awesome, really. As was the old man who drove me home. (And I've never had the same driver twice, as yet.) The old man could be a tour guide with how much he knew about my neighbors. (Not that our stretch of road is really worthy of touring.)

So yes. That's about the only exciting thing. The chicks and ducks are growing (and, in the chicks' case, growing ugly). I kind of neglected them for a few days, being so busy with work and life in general, and when I returned the ducklings were about twice their former size and more obnoxious than ever. And I discovered it was pointless to name the  Buffs. I can't tell them apart at the moment. Sigh. Lobelia was getting to be so adorable in a chicken sort of way, too. She had this habit of hopping onto people's hands and trying to climb up their arms. She might be the chick who keeps flying up and perching precariously on the edge of the box. Regular daredevil, that one.

Um....

Well, crazy weather, bus rides, growing poultry, weird dreams. I can't think of anything else. It's been a rather unremarkable April. Some people will contest this, saying the weather is horrible, but hello! It's spring. Despite the name, it isn't all skipping through a field of flowers under a clear blue sky with a warm breeze blowing along. It's wet. And sometimes cold. And windy. And muddy. And we need it. Remember last year?

<end rant>

Man. I thought there was something else blog-worthy I wanted to write about, but I can't think of what it was. Guess I end here for the day.

Oh! I'm considering a sort of challenge to myself to post everyday. Not forever, obviously. Maybe a week at first, to see if I can do it. We shall see.

Duck, Duck.... (plus: A Cute Moment at Work)

Add ducks to the list of critters currently in our care. We're turning into a farm. All we need now is a cow or two, maybe a pony.... Just no pigs.

The ducks were Heather's idea. She and Mom went to get more chicks yesterday and came home with 10 assorted chicks and 2 Pekin ducklings.

And I thought the chicks were loud. We're finally getting the ducklings used to our hands, but only because we continued draping them in the box and wiggling our fingers and talking to the ducklings all day yesterday. Whenever we'd pick up one, it and the one left behind would both scream, so it was doubly loud.

Of all people, Wes suggested a name for one of the ducklings: Aflac. We're all in agreement. Heather wants to name the other Jemima, but we don't know if they're male or female.

We got 6 more Buffs (and Mom thinks most of our first ones were Buffs as well), 2 White Leghorns, and four Americaunas, the latter of which are beautiful as chicks but apparently turn out pretty ordinary/kind of ugly as adults. The new Buffs (which all look pretty much the same) are a straight run. If they're roosters, they won't be lasting long, so I'm having to refrain from throwing out more names.

However, one of the Americaunas has black around her eyes coming back to her cheeks. Mom said it looks like eyeliner, so she is Sabrina. I had said the chick with the red stripes from the first half-dozen was named by Allenna, but it was actually the other Banty. She is Arexi. Mom thinks the striped one might be our only non-Buff from that bunch. I think it could be a Rhode Island Red, and suggested Cheryl (Miss Congeniality, anyone?).

Rocky is gone as of this morning. Even among the new ones he was the runt, and with so many running around he had it rough. Although yesterday he laid down for one of his frequent naps (I was beginning to think he was narcoleptic) and one of the Whites cuddled up with her head on his back. 'Twas adorable. (Oh. And I want to name the Whites Galadriel and Glinda. Even though we can't tell them apart.)

But enough about baby fowl. I know I said I wasn't going to write about work, but something happened yesterday that I wanted to share.

I was scrubbing counters when a little boy, maybe 6 or 7, walked in. I waited a second to see if a parent was following, but he was on his own, so I went up to the register with a grin. He had a $20 wadded up in his fist and a handwritten list from his mom. He quietly gave me his order.

Then he asked if it was "Happy Tuesday". My co-worker, who'd wandered up with me, suggested he might mean "Text Tuesday". The poor kid wasn't sure and looked uncomfortable. My co-worker asked if his mom had a text. He didn't know. I wasn't sure what to say when another customer, who was sitting down eating, said, "Here," and slid his phone across the table to offer his own text message.

"Looks like someone's got your back," my co-worker told the boy with a smile.

I told the boy his total, forgetting to say "dollars" and "cents" after the numbers. He looked all confused and nervous, repeated the total questioningly with "dollars" and "cents", and then mumbled that he didn't have 80 cents. My co-worker stepped up, pointing out that he had a $20, which meant he'd get change back.

Once the transaction was complete, I thanked her profusely. I'd been at a loss, feeling kind of stupid because I wasn't sure how to go about the whole thing, but it was cute. When I brought the bag with the smoothies out to the boy, I cautioned him that it was kind of heavy and offered to carry it out to his car, but he told me he could do it, and off he went.

In other news, the weather still doesn't really feel like spring. At least, not all the time. Yesterday we had hail mixed with freezing rain. Today we have sunshine. I know, this way we don't get lots of mud while everything melts all at once, but I'm so ready for spring.

On Sunday, my old Sunday School teacher asked Dad how we liked living in the country. He said he and Mom are enjoying it and he grew up in the country working on farms, kind of mumbled through how my siblings feel, then looked at me and said, "And this one loves it." I get a garden plot bigger than our old backyard, and that's only on one side of the house. What's not to like?

How I Run Errands (and don't manage my time properly)

I meant to post yesterday. Don't get me started with the excuses. In short, I lacked inspiration. However, I ran some errands before work yesterday and found my inspiration. Which means you won't get a rave about my new mint plant. Consider yourselves fortunate.

A little backstory of sorts (or is it a preface?):

I don't know if it's the new house, the season, or something else, but the dogs - especially Sasha - have had dry skin issues lately. Sasha has licked herself red in some areas. I found some comfry salve Mom bought at an Amish store a while ago and decided to try it on Sasha's stomach. (Of course, first I googled "can I use comfry salve on my dog".)

What does Sasha do (after I finally manage to get her on her back so I can rub the stuff on her)? Lick it. Seems she likes the flavor. That, or it's just another sign of my dog's overall general.... She doesn't think. She just puts stuff in her mouth for the sake of it.

You know that thing about dogs being like their owners?

Yeah.

Anyway! So I asked Mom if she thought some tea tree oil would help. From personal experience, the stuff is potent. I never actually had to taste any, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who's guessed a thing's flavor based on it's smell. That's half of how we get our sense of taste, anyway.

Turns out we didn't have any tea tree oil on hand, so I said I'd run by a local health food store on the way to work.

Another side note: I'm still practising good time management skills.

This health food store is on Main Street. Don't start imagining anything huge. The buisiness part of our Main Street is about four blocks of Mom 'n' Pop shops, bars, cafes, and the like, along with historic buildings like the courthouse and banks and human service buildings. Doesn't make for a good tourist attraction, but it adds to that "small town" feel the city for some reason seeks to maintain.

So the whole scheme of one-way streets always confuses me, especially when coming from the direction of our new house. I only had a vague idea of how to get where I was headed. I failed. Missed my turn, had to go three blocks to the correct one-way and do a big circle.

Then there were no angled parking spots on Main.

Parallel parking.

I haven't done it since my road test.

Sue me.

I wandered around for a couple blocks, almost turning the wrong way on a one-way and finally finding an empty parallel spot on a slight hill very near my destination.

Yet another side note: if anyone decided to trail me, they might decide I am dangerous. Either to them or to myself, I can't say. When I get turned around, I usually go out of my way to set myself right. I won't guarantee it's...the best method.

I totally blanked on how to parallel park. I started out fine, but somehow became self-concious (I was absolutely sure the driver parking the SUV across the street was watching and laughing) and went too fast. Commence repeated backing up, cranking the wheel, and pulling forward. Bother.

Trying to shake off that blond episode, I made my way to the health food store. One expensive bottle of tea tree oil and some local honey later, my mission was accomplished. Now to Wal-Mart!

Do you ever watch people in passing vehicles? (Maybe it's the fact that I do this that makes me so self-concious?) I was at a stop light right after pulling out of my parking spot. The car across the intersection had their lef turn signal on. There was a woman driving and a man in the passenger seat. The man said something, gesturing to their right, and the blinker went off. After a moment of hesitation, the right blinker came on. Then the driver leaned forward and looked both ways, also gesturing, and the blinker went off. Good to know I'm not the only one who can manage to get lost in a certain small section of city blocks.

I had to grab some things at Wal-Mart and refill our water jugs (we get the reverse osmosis water). Here's where my time management, or lack thereof, comes into play. (Though I'm inclined to blame poor road planning downtown.) I forgot just how long it takes to get 16 gallons of water! 2 5-gallon jugs and 6 1-gallon. I have this dark fantasy about some poor soul during a zombie apocalypse in search of water. So long as they don't have any undead following them, all they need to do is go to Wal-Mart. Forget single bottles (though those do help). Of course, in the event of their being pursued, they might only have time for a few quarts.

But I digress (again).

By the time I'd filled all my jugs (getting many a curious glance in the process) I had to quick step across the store to get dog food (we're trying a half-wet/half-dry diet for the dogs) and allergy medicine (also for the dogs).

On the way, I passed two girls in their mid-twenties. One of them made said, "Oh, it's Friday" and her friend laughed and started singing that ridiculous song***. I had to laugh, because the same thing had immediately started running through my head.

I knew I was late. I resigned myself to the fact, berated myself for the fact, and kept speedwalking (which is hard to do when pushing a cart filled with 16 gallons of water). However, on the bright side, the cashier was really nice and his voice was Josh Turner-deep. Which is just cool.

Skip through a long 6 hours of work/driving home. I ran through the nightly routine with Sasha and headed to bed. I made Sasha lay down on her side (which she hates being forced to do) and applied more comfry salve followed by tea tree oil.

It was late and I was tired, but Sasha wouldn't settle. She kept sniffing around and pacing, and somehow couldn't connect the strange odor to herself. I finally convinced her to lay down. She likes to curl up, but as soon as her nose came near her stomach she was on her feet.

This routine was repeated a few times, combined with sniffing her blanket (which apparently also smelled a little). I finally had to move a different blanket to the top of her "nest" before she collapsed, mostly out of just being tired.

And look! A picture!

 

 

Sasha and Mr. Teddy (plus a sock, my library basket, and a mess spilling out of my closet)

 

So the salve/oil worked. A little too well, it seemed last night. Trial and error, I guess.

By the way, happy March! It felt kind of Spring-y yesterday with sunshine and mud. We've had warmer days where our driveway becomes a muddy mess, and then cold days where the ruts freeze. While I've enjoyed the snow, I'm anxious to get started on my garden. Big plans for that!

 



*** Use caution when clicking this link. Wait. You already clicked it, didn't you?

A Slightly Belated Christmas Post

I suppose I should write once more before we bid adieu to 2012, huh?

Merry Christmas! (I know, I tend to be a little behind the times....)

I forgot to mention our Christmas tree in my last post. We got it about a week before Christmas. While our artificial tree lasted, we used that, but it saw its last Christmas three or four years ago and, since then, we've got a real tree every year. I think this year's is a blue spruce. And yes, it's still standing. We aren't the type to toss out our trees and take down our lights the day after Christmas, as if that's the end of it. I'm still listening to Christmas music.

Someone suggested we name the tree, and my youngest sister tossed out whatever complicated phrase is "Merry Christmas" in German. Mom just gave her a look and refused her friendly suggestion, considering my sister could barely pronounce it herself. I responded with "Feliz Navidad", and somehow the tree became "Feliz".

Feliz sat bundled up and unlit for a couple days while our lives continued in the usual crazy, rather slipshod fashion. Finally, Mom said I needed to get the lights on.

I've never lit a real tree. It's hard. Artificial trees have nice, even rows of branches. I didn't even know where to start with Feliz, and wanted to give up, but Mom wouldn't let me and, being the sweet, unfailingly obedient daughter I am, I pressed on.

My poor hands after that! All over, past my wrists, my skin was sore and blotchy red.

Then we decorated the tree, tossed under it the few gifts already wrapped, and went on our way.

Christmas week was crazy. We only had morning service for church, and then an evening service Christmas eve. After church, the girls insisted we open gifts rather than after we all dragged ourselves out of bed in the morning. After reading the Christmas story, we did.

I got gloves, tea, some jewelry, notebooks, and candy, and was told my books would be on the way soon. I got Mom a fuzzy blanket so she'd quit stealing mine, leg warmers for one sister, one of those poseable wooden figurines for the other, and had pitched in money for Dad and the brother.

After that, we sat around until 10, when we headed out on routes.

We didn't get snow for Christmas. Still don't have much to speak of. But I don't complain when it's time for papers, because I've been able to wear my sneakers most days and haven't been slowed down by sludging through snow.

When we finally got home, we all went to bed and got up when we pleased. Then we girls helped Mom get dinner ready, we all ate, and proceeded to have a very quiet day. That's Christmas around here.

Life trudges on still. I work, clean, cook a little, try to write, and have hit 90 books read this year. The last was Little Women, which I've never read before, unless you count an abridged children's version. When I wasn't laughing over Jo's mishaps, the blend of comedy and moral lessons, and the general cheeriness of the lives portrayed in the book, I was sobbing like a baby; sometimes both at once, because it went from depressing to happy all in a moment. And that was before I got to the truly sad part of the book. I'm all too easily influenced by fictional emotion. Bother.

I'm looking forward to some of the changes the New Year is bringing. Actually, I think the whole family is. Though I don't techinically do New Year's resolutions, January is a good starting point for a lot of the things I'm trying to do; mostly, sorting out my crazy life.

Oh! I'll finally be revamping the blog soon. I got a title all figured out. The minute I thought of it, I was like "Duh! How simple!". It's a one-worder, but I like it.

But whatever! Happy New Year! And hopefully I pick up on writing '13 instead of '12 pretty quickly.

The End of the World (or not). Plus: a Little Christmas Spirit, all Year Long

*WARNING: High linky usage. Proceed with caution. Do not engage linkies unless you want to waste time and maybe get a chuckle out of it.*

 

You know those days when you get a song stuck in your head, and you're playing it over and over in your head pretty much all day long? You might even look them up on youtube so you can listen to the whole song, which you've forgotten, as opposed to the one line you remember. Sometimes I like to think of those songs and theme songs for the day.

Yesterday's theme song was "It's the end of the world, as we know it, and I feel fine!"   :)

I don't know how the rest of the song goes. I just know that part because they play it on "Chicken Little" as "the sky is falling".

(Side note: I googled "Chicken little scream like a little girl" looking for the right picture and got this, which just made me happy.)

*cough* Anyway!

Opinions among my facebook friends concerning "the End of the World" are greatly varied. Some people couldn't stop cracking jokes; others were telling people to stop picking on other people. I'll admit that I posted one or two sarcastic posts and comments to posts, as well as a few pictures. And I'll also admit I was worried about how yesterday would go. Not the world ending, but the possibility of stupid people doing stupid things in honor of the world ending.

At least in our corner of the world, December 21st was here and gone without a supernatural hitch. I worked, helped deliver papers for the routes we're subbing, helped clean the house, and overall had a pretty good day.

While I have to scoff at the people who decided it was a good idea to heed the chiselings of an anciet civilization of humans as equally fallible and finite as themselves, this event served as a nice reminder to me about the uncertainty of life. We aren't given a time when Christ will return. All we are given is a warning to use this precious life carefully and make it count.

In other news, our house is picking up the so-called "Christmas Spirit" a little late this year. But then, I guess we always do. Or maybe it's just that it comes gradually for us, because we tend to start the Christmas music playing around September, and we're usually drinking hot chocolate at least at that time.

I feel bad saying I think it's going to be a good Christmas in light of the Sandy Hook shooting. Maybe it's the feeling that we kind of need a good Christmas. Having a job means I finally have money to spend on gifts, and that is gratifying. I know some people are all about making gifts, my youngest sister one of them, and I don't disagree that those make very personal gifts. However, Sometimes there are things I see that I know will bring a smile, and I'd like to give that smile. I know we don't need money to express our love for those around us, but sometimes a little money helps.

Yes, I still get excited about opening my own gifts, but here's the thing: who really remembers what they got for Christmas last year, much less the year before? It's the emotions of the day, the sense of love and happiness, the break from life, that we remember. At least, it is for me.

I don't necessarily look forward to a new year. I'll spend the next three or four months trying to remember what number to put as the date. (And then my birthday will come and I'll have to remember how old I am.) What's the fun in that? I don't techinically do "New Year's Resolutions", because the overwhelming sense of guilt when June comes and I realize I've accomplished next to nothing on that list is too much for me. But the New Year is yet another healthy dose of reality. "It's a new year. We're still here. We're new people, but we still have a life to live, and we've been given another day to live it."

Some people talk about how we ought to have that "Christmas Spirit" all year 'round: peace and goodwill, love, giving, etc. I agree. When friends complain about me singing Christmas songs in July, I tell them what my dad likes to say: Christmas is the original praise and worship music. And there's no conclusive evidence that Christ was born in December to begin with, so why limit the honoring of such a miracle to that month?

I agree that some aspects of the Christmas spirit ought to be with us all year 'round. And here's another thing:

We wake up on January 1st, Brand New Year, and see the year stretched open and promising (most of the time). We make promises to ourselves about what we're going to do, because the first day of the year is a great milestone by which to track our progress. Maybe we 're still in the same mindset on January 2nd, and possibly January 3rd. By the time March 26th rolls around, however, we're living the day-to-day like always. It's just seasons changing and time passing.

What if, like the "Christmas Spirit", we woke up every day of the year with that sense of opporunities waiting to be seized? What if we jumped out of bed singing praises that we're waking healthy and safe under another sunrise? I know I roll out of bed reluctantly most mornings. Before I'm fully concious, I'm building a to-do list. When I go to bed, I'm not rejoicing in what I accomplished; I'm starting tomorrow's list. That isn't living; that's existing. 

What if, every morning, our thoughts go to God and determine that "this is the day which the Lord hath made" and we strive to use it to His glory? Every day is a new day, a new chance, no matter what number we attach to it. We're always sinners saved by grace, pilgrims in a world that is not our home.

 

 

And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.

The night is far spent , the day is at hand : let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light. 

Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying.

But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.

- Romans 13:11-14

Night Driving (plus a little pointless trivia)

Yeah, so.... I just need to write a prologue to copy and paste into each post which is written far too long after the previous one. In short, it's been a crazy...what? Month? I've had things to write about (namely Thanksgiving and then maybe something about Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day) but obviously didn't care enough to bother, and now those topics just aren't that relevant or whatever.

Well, now I'm back. Though I don't really have anything to write about, it's Friday, which is one of only two days a week which I originally designated to be blogging days.

Old habits die hard.

I guess I do have a little to write about. We're all getting into the Christmas mood around here. I've made lots of molasses crinkles and snickerdoodles. Mom made another batch of hot chocolate and has supplies for chex mix, peanut brittle, peanut butter fudge, and other holiday traditions. We're all making good progress with our Christmas shopping. Mom even found reindeer antlers and a red nose to put on her car, like she's been wanting to do for years. Then she saw the elf ears on someone else's car and wanted those. Right.

She and Heather decided the reindeer/car is Francine, ol' Rudolph's daughter. Didn't ask, don't care to. This led to Mom saying, "Wait. Francine's a girl, but she has antlers."

I reminded her about the reindeer we saw last year (or the year before?) at the city gardens: both male and female have antlers.

This led to a little research on my part, and I discovered something interesting:

Reindeer and caribou are the only...deer-like creatures (they have some strange Latin name for their family or species that starts with a "c", I think) where both the male and female have antlers. For reindeer, at least, both male and female get their antlers in the summer. However, male reindeer lose theirs in mid-November/early-December, and female keep theirs until spring when their young are born. Thus, if we all want to stick to the image of Santa's sleigh being pulled by antlered deer, and we don't want to resort to the excuse that it's all magic, Santa's reindeer are all female. (I always suspected Vixen and Dancer at least were female, so this is easier for me to swallow.)

And tada! That topic blends right into the main topic of the evening! Just cuz I'm that awesome.

Our family was invited to a birthday party tonight for our science teacher. You know, the totally awesome one? She's the only reason I survived chemistry. She likes chocolate and movie quotes and Jeopardy games in class. She helped with my graduation party (and she's one of few people to whom I've managed to give "thank you" notes for said party...). She's just too cool for words. Someday, she needs to write a biography, even if she can't publish it. And then she needs to write textbooks. And then play on Jeopardy.

Anyway! In the end, it was only us girls who ended up going. In my car, which means I have the right to drive. I almost forfeited the right. Why? Because it meant driving at night down country roads.

I've driven at night before, but usually with a parent in the car, unless it's 10 minutes across the city. I've driven those country roads before, but usually with a parent and always in daylight. I'm struggling with a few driving phobias, including lane-changes in downtown traffic, and night driving along deer-infested roads is high on the list.

Deep breath. At least it isn't snowing. (We got some snow last week and flurries earlier this week, but all that's left is a little mush and ice in the shady places.) Snow driving is another phobia of mine. I've yet to do it, and it's another reason I appreciate my old boat of a Chevy over Heather's sports car. Mom made sure I had instructions (though I had a hard time picturing just what she was talking about) and reminded me (or threatened) to text when we left home, when we got to the party, when we left the party, and when we got home.

We left at 6, giving us just enough time to get to the party when it started, if I drove the speedlimit. It actually didn't go too badly. Heather acted as co-pilot, offering her knowledge of the area, because neither of us was crystal clear on where we were headed or what we were looking for. We managed, and I never had to slam on my breaks to turn onto the right road. Yay!

Another perk in my car is honest-to-goodness brights. Mom's car's brights are about as bright and the normal light setting and no one would know the difference. Mine actually showed me beyond both shoulders on the road.

So there I was, maintaining a steady 55 MPH down roads lined with Michigan ditches and across bridges (cringe). I confirmed an earlier suspicion that I pull a little to the right, especially when I'm on a bridge and a semi with very bright lights is passing on the other side of the road. We made good time, arriving just a tad late to the party (and I think they started early).

There weren't many kids there (just one guy and girl Heather's and my age and all their younger siblings). I knew some of the people from church. The rest were total strangers, though some insisted they recognized me. I ate finger food and sipped punch and marveled at how my upbeat, crazy science teacher could be hosting such an almost solemn affair. Here I was thinking there'd be karaoke or something.

We sat around for a little over an hour. Heather avoiding the chocolate for some reason and kept saying weird things I'm not aloud to repeat. In the end, our teacher's daughters invited Allenna to spend the night, so it was just Heather and I on the way home.

Now that I was familiar with my route, I was able to relax a little more. (And by "relax", I mean be less uptight and likely to freak out but rather calm and focused.) Heather and I sang along to Christmas music and kept our eyes peeled for deer. We didn't see a one of 'em. Wonder of wonders.

Winter is Coming 'Round

Yeah, yeah. It's been too long. November is over half done already. Craziness.

I won't bother with a long update. Don't much care to consider the past few weeks, to be honest. Life is still trudging along.

Mom brought back a computer from Grandma's house (I think it was Grandpa's) and Wes got it set up for Allenna and I. We both suffered computer crashes in the last few months. The new computer is a good ol' desktop, and I've been avoiding having to use the keyboard. I was just getting used to Dad's, which I've now decided I don't dislike half so much as I'd said I did. There's no Microsoft Word installed yet, which means I can't access my writing files. (For some reason, they all turn to gibberish if opened with WordPad or Notepad.)

But now I'm blogging, at last.

We got snow last Tuesday. Granted, it was just flurries and it didn't stick, but it was our first snowfall of the season. Since Friday we've had foggy nights and mornings. Cool to look at, but scary to drive in. I actually haven't been the one driving yet, and I'm not too eager to try. We've also seen plenty of sunshine, which is great.

I've been fighting a cold since last Tuesday. It started as a tickle in my throat and, by the next day, had developed into a nasty head and chest cold. Then it was a stuffy nose and a cough. Now I have remnants of the cough and a slightly runny nose. And just when I was thinking I would be the only one in the family to get it, Wes and Allenna mentioned sore throats. I'll get blamed for that.

Besides the massive headaches that make it feel like my head is going to explode, having to breathe through my mouth all night, and getting a coughing fit in church, I discovered another problem with having a cold: stuffy noses make it very hard to read books out loud. I babysat on Friday night, when my cold was reduced to sniffles and a choke. I felt bad just trying to maintain a conversation with the parents. Then the kids decided they both wanted me to read a whole bunch of books to them. Normally, I'd be loving that, especially because the boy prefers to be more active and only his sister begs for me to read a third and fourth book, but they both insisted on Friday. If they understood half of what I was reading, I'd be surprised.

On Saturday, Mom, the girls, and I went on a shopping trip with some ladies from church. It's an annual thing, and the intention is to get a bulk of the Christmas shopping done. Neither Mom nor I am are much of shoppers. We both like to go, get what we need, and leave, and neither of us much cares for window shopping if we don't have money. However, on occasion I don't mind it, and the mall we go to is bigger than our own (and also nearly 2 hours away, but worth it). I've been on the last three or four trips. Last year we went twice; once with the ladies and once as a family a couple weeks later. It was nice then because I had a significant amount of money for the first time, and I got most of my Christmas shopping done.

This time, I got some things for Mom and Heather, but.... Yeah, I spent the rest of my money on myself. I do feel kind of bad about that, but the rest of the family wants things that require all of us pitching in, or things like gift cards and money to spend at the local used bookstore (don't worry, she already knows). Plus, the mall had a Teavana store!

Teavana tea was on my Christmas list, but I figured I make it easier on Mom and Dad and take care of it myself so they wouldn't have to worry about it.  :p  I also put the Underland Chronicles on my list, so it's all good. (If my family doesn't understand my desire for books as gifts, they understand tea even less so. Which usually means my Christmas presents are a complete surprise, which I enjoy.)

Okay, I know there was something I wanted to post about, but I can't think of it right now. Bother it all. I should know by now that this is what comes of waiting so long between posts. I didn't mean to. I started writing one last Tuesday, but I didn't get very far.

Oh, well.

It's hard to believe it's Thanksgiving week! For us, this means morning routes during the week and pizza for our Thanksgiving meal (still not sure how that became a tradition). Our house seems to run through a cycle of cleanliness and disorder, and, in honor of the holiday, Mom bumped things up so the clean part of the cycle is coming around. (Yes, roll your eyes. It's a stupid pattern to which I contribute and from which I ought to withdraw my support.) This means that, while I write this, the counters are waiting to be cleaned and the laundry to be put away. We're also planning to move our old, very used table out into the garage and bring in a "new" table given to us by some friends a while ago. Somehow that hasn't happened until just now.

That's life?

November and Playing with My Hair

It's November now. I'd like to be well into the first day of NaNoWriMo, but between not having my own computer and being in the middle of two stories, I'm not. Ah, well.

It's freezing cold. Like, barely 50 now. Cold enough to warrant snow, which we still don't have. (By the way, I said I wanted snow, and then along came Sandy. That wasn't what I had in mind. We ended up getting freezing rain and lots of wind.) And I can't find my good pair of fingerless gloves. So my teeth chattered while I waited for Heather's car to warm up when I ran errands.

Mom and Wes are on a trip, and the girls have a youth retreat coming up, which leaves Dad and me for routes on Saturday and Sunday. (Our subs are the youth pastor's family, and they'll be at the retreat.) I'm just oozing enthusiasm. Not my idea of quality time with Dad.

Anyway!

For a while I've been looking for ways to curl my hair. It's not that I've always dreamed of having curly hair. Okay, for a while I did. Now, however, I am perfectly content with my hair color and type. I rarely use a blow drier (unless I've been moving slow and don't want to go to work with wet hair) and never use a curling iron. I have a hard time styling my hair because I'm not big on messing with it, like ratting and gunking and hair-spraying.

But once in a while, it's nice to change things up. Jessi learned this new way of curling her hair, but I don't think I have the patience for it: constantly twirling my hair while it dries isn't for me.

There's always the whole putting-my-wet-hair-in-curlers-and-sleeping-with-them method, but usually I style my hair for church, and I am not a fan after doing that last year for the Christmas party (especially doing routes like that).

Yesterday, I saw the hot curlers Mom got a while ago and figured, "Why not? It's worth a try." I'd just taken a shower, and to use the curlers my hair needed to be dry. I gunked it up with my favorite styling cream (Noodle Head, if you care to know), and scrunched a little. Then I mopped the kitchen floor. (Sadly, mopping doesn't happen nearly as often as it should.) I ended up doing it Cinderella-style.

My hair was still a little wet, so I added more cream and blow-dried. And didn't brush it. I have a hard time letting my hair get messy like that.

Then I added the curlers. I was going for loose waves, but for some reason I couldn't manage it. Maybe I left them in too long? While they were in, I mopped the entry way floor. Then I took them out.

Not loose waves. Try tight, bouncy ringlets. Like, my hair was almost to my shoulders, and straight it hangs down to the middle of my back (or thereabouts).

Add some hairspray, finger-comb, pull back a little, and swish in front of the mirror for a good 10 minutes giggling like an idiot.

I don't normally do much with my hair; a fact that got it chopped when I was fifteen. I prefer long hair, but it takes more effort to dress it up. I've learned a lot of ways to do braids. However, I don't do a lot of loose, hanging styles. Curls are a nice compromise. Now I just have to figure out how to use the curlers so I get waves.

Allenna saw me when I had finished making faces in the mirror, and I offered to try it on her hair. She has shorter, finer hair and layers, so it took some work, but we finally figured it out. We both were actually quite dressed up for church.

I didn't brush my hair before bed, and when I woke up some of the curls were still intact. When I managed to brush it all out, it was a poufy mess. Braid it is!

Dreaming of a Real Winter (Also: Back to the Issue of Titles)

Last year around this time (okay, in September) I wrote a blog post about autumn, and about the different "visions of autumn", like gray and drizzly with the bright colors or sunshiny and clear and vibrant. This year, I haven't even been able to enjoy the colors all that much. Our color peak came a couple weeks early, and then wind and rain brough most of that color to the ground in a few days. We're still getting some shifting trees, but mostly it's all brown. And it's been gray and rainy.

There's snow in the forecast for next week. Considering our poor winter last year, I'm super excited. I'd love to actually have snow on the ground for Christmas - Thanksgiving, even - and be able to build a few forts and things like that.

The only thing that worries me is driving in the snow. I took driver's ed in November last year, but it wasn't really wintry weather yet. (And when we finally did get snow, it didn't last long.)

Mom and Dad like to use the old-school methods of predicting the weather; chiefly, how the animals are behaving. (But then, this is Michigan, and our wildlife is always a little abnormal.) I've seen some pretty obese squirrels lately, which Mom says could mean either lots of snow or lots of bitter cold. I'm hoping for the former.

The bad weather all year meant poor crops. Where the apple trees were overloaded two years ago, they're empty this year. The next time someone complains about having too much snow and wishing for more southern weather, I'm going to point to last winter and the one before and the subsuquent harvests. And I'll probably be struggling to refrain from kicking them solidly in the shins. If you want southern climates, move south. This is Michigan, for crying out loud!

Of course, the warmer weather last winter meant I was puddle-jumping for my birthday instead of throwing snowballs, and that part was fun.

My biggest problem with a decent winter is that I'm going to have to be careful to not spend all of my money on fun winter clothing. And boots. With colorful winter inserts. And fingerless gloves. And a new NaNoWriMo t-shirt. Especially with the big ladies' shopping trip coming up.

Speaking of NaNoWriMo, this will be the second year in a row that I'm not doing it. I'm still struggling with my superhero story ( and to any of you reading this who read that, I'm so sorry) and the story about the dragon who can't fly (which I'm wise enough to only share with my sister before it's completed). There's also the matter of my not having a computer of my own. Hopefully, a couple more paychecks will fix that (although the other thing that needs to be fixed is my dog, and that's a more pressing issue), but until then I'm using Dad's computer, and that won't work for word wars.

I'm sure about mid-January I won't be half so happy about snow (if we do in fact get it and not the alternative of bitter cold), but right now I can't wait for it. Actually, about the time we start subbing our youth pastor's boys' paper routes is when I'll be hating it.

I finally broke out the Christmas music this week. Sometimes we start listening to it in August, but this year and last we started late. I'm not very excited for when the radios start playing it, though. How many different versions of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" can they come up with?

In other news, I've still been pondering the matter of a new blog title. Yeah, even I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth it.

What about "Slapdash Serendipity"? Yup. I seriously just made that one up. But I really do like the word "serendipity". However, "perfunctory" is rather a fun word as well, but it's definition isn't all that great ("lacking interest, care, or enthusiasm").

Something that's been stuck in my head since yesterday is the phrase "banana guilt", a concept introduced to me last week. It's where we look at a banana that's not yellow but more brown and a tad mushy, and we would prefer not to use it, when in fact that's the best time to use bananas, because that's when they have the most flavor. Which explains why banana bread recipes call for overripe bananas.

I had the idea yesterday that, were I ever to write a biography of sorts, even fictionalizing it a little, "Banana Guilt" could be a fun title.

Seems that, currently, I'm leaning toward fun phrases as opposed to a title with my name in it. I even briefly considered "Defying Gravity", because I'm thoroughly enjoying the "Wicked" soundtrack I borrowed from Jessi. (Up until a few weeks ago, I'd only heard a few songs.) Then there's my continued attempts to think up a good phrase from a favorite poem, quote, or verse.

It's probably because I can't track down a decent adjective that flows with my name. I don't even care right now if it starts with "a".  I still like "abstract", "absentminded" suits me, "anecdote" is fun, and "ambidexterity" has the same first three letters as my name, but none of those really seems to work.

Did you know that "somniloquence" is talking in your sleep? Yes, I'm browsing dictionary.com.

Ah, well. Guess I keep pondering that. Maybe eventually I'll come up with something.

Some times you just have to dance in the rain....

Yesterday was a very gray day. And it looks like tornado season has finally arrived here. I don't mean to say that's a good thing. I'm already enough of a worry wart without tornado season.

Despite the dismal weather yesterday, I was subconsciously determined to enjoy my day. (I say 'subconsciously' because I didn't realize how much I had done to brighten my own day until just now; hence, this post.)

I woke up to the sound of rain, and so determined to skip the dogs' walk. I should have just toughened up and walked them any way. When they miss a walk now, they glare at me for a while and Sasha is distempered all day long.

The day started slowly (I prefer sunrise at 7, not 8, and my brain doesn't work until the sun is up). Eventually, I decided to make scones. I've been meaning to for days, but hadn't got around to it, and yesterday was the perfect opportunity.

The recipe was weird and the dough stuck to my hands like nothing else and I think I made the scones too big, but they were wonderful. Add a cup of mint tea and I was on my way to feeling quite British. There was even a little salted butter left! (Mom's recently made the switch to unsalted butter. I now cannot enjoy toast because I always liked the melty buttery taste.) So I curled up under my fuzziest blanket on the couch with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and spent the drizzly gray morning in happiness.

Come Bible study time, I was feeling quite perky, even. I considered wearing my rain boots, because all day I had been hoping to find a puddle large enough to splash in, but the boots didn't really go with the outfit, so I left them behind. I kicked off my shoes as soon as we reached the church and spent the rest of the night barefoot. (I didn't even put them back on to go home.)

So I wandered outside a bit with Heather. Puddle! Okay, it was barely a cup of water, but I splashed anyway. And got mud all over my legs. So I went in search of a cleaner puddle to wash off.

I eventually found a really big puddle, ran, and hit it as hard as possible, scaring some of the Jr. High boys and anyone driving by who'd happened to be looking, and soaking the bottom half of my skirt and my feet and legs. 'Twas very fun.

We got subs for supper, instead of the regular pizza, because they were left over from the marriage seminar. Toasted subs with two kinds of cheese and meat, lettuce, onions, and mustard. I even had a cup of root beer. (My first real drink of soda in months.) Add to that our substitute teacher had a great lesson, and I was quite content.

Well, not perfectly. I'd been keeping an eye on Weather Bug since the clouds had been getting darker and learned we were in a tornado watch, and there was a brief tornado warning. That kind of put a damper on my mood.

However, after Bible study when the rain was starting to pick up, we all trooped outside to play in it, and I actually danced in the rain. Despite the fact that there were at least a dozen people watching. (Technically, it was spinning a crazy circle with two friends, but I can't do much else that comes close to "dance".)

Of course, then the rain really started coming down and the lightning and thunder arrived, so I headed inside to mope and fret like I always do at the hint of bad weather. Mom couldn't even come get us as soon as she wanted to because the rain was too bad to drive in. So I waited by the back door and watched the other kids stand outside getting soaked and then squishing and squelching across the floor in their shoes or socks, and I didn't have the heart to join them. (This is not the part where you pity me. This is where you laugh heartlessly and tell me to lighten up.)

But then we discovered ice cream in the freezer. We know it's free for all if it's been opened and used already. Bring out the chocolate syrup, sprinkles, and cool whip! The rain let up, the thunder passed, and things got better.

When Mom arrived a few minutes later, she said the tornado warning was still on. Thanks for ruining it. So we hurried home.

I guess the best way to cure myself of worry is to preoccupy my mind with something more immediate and interesting. So I joined Mom and Dad while they put on an episode of this new TV show they discovered. Zombies. Yup. The perfect way to forget about a tornado warning. (I kid you not.)

Around 9, when Sasha was begging to go out, I was reluctant to oblige. Then I stepped outside and dared a peek at the sky. Stars! All stars and dark sky and retreating clouds!

Lesson learned: stop fretting about what you can't control and make the most of the situation. In this case: don't fear the rain. Dance in it.

Returning with Nothing to Say

Hi.

Yeah.

So, at first I was thinking it hadn't been very long since I'd posted. Then I realized it'd been over a week. And then I kept holding it off and holding it off because I really had nothing to say.

I feel like such a bad person.

Honestly, though, not much has happened. And I hate recaps, so I'll skip the details on the nothingness of my life. :) (Yeah, it's a little early.)

Mom was away for a little over a week, so I got charge of keeping the house under control. I'm getting pretty good at grocery shopping. Until the family starts yelling at me to hurry up, or one of the girls starts asking for something expensive that would mean we would have to sacrifice three other meals. There was a time when I could block this stuff out if I wanted to. Granted, I usually had a book in my hands or was right in the middle of writing a death scene, but....

Okay, I'm really rambling. Sorry.

Mom got home last night, which makes me happy. And now Hershey can stop moping, which makes everyone happy!

In an effort to encourage some positive habits in my life, I've been trying to take the dogs on a walk every morning (minus Sunday). It certainly has helped to improve their attitudes, though I still can't get them to walk properly. Sasha has been limping off and on for the past week, and I'm starting to think the pads of her feet might be sore from all of the trotting around on sidewalks and pavement.

Also, she's getting BIG. Still in the 40lb range, but she's now as tall as Hershey. Not as big and muscular, but as tall. She's going to be a beautiful dog when she's full grown.

Rambling again.

I really can't think of anything to say. This is quite irksome.

Bother.

Well, my twice a week schedule worked for a while. Guess I need to try, try again. Clearly, it also helped improve my style of blogging. (Or so it seems to me.)

I rearranged my room yesterday, reached 20,000 words in my superhero story (finally!), am spending far too much time on facebook (and considering taking another break from it, because it was so refreshing, but I'm not sure how I would continue to post my story there for some friends to read), and am not really liking this spring weather this early in March. It might mean puddle jumping for my birthday, but I would still rather have snow.

Yeah, I'm going to go now. I'll come back tomorrow and try again.

Warning: This Post is Pointless.

Uhg. Nothing to say.

And yes. I'm a day late. Again.

....

Okay, it's official: I'll take a full grown dog over a puppy any day. I know, I'm an idiot, but this puppy really is testing - and destroying - my mental and emotional fortitude. It's not all her fault. She's actually mellowed out a bit since her arrival. Maybe it's because I'm taking her on walks now. (Okay, I've taken her on two in the last week.) Maybe she's just giving me the silent treatment because I made her wear the head harness we got Hershey a couple years ago. Without it, she pulls and almost suffocates herself in her eagerness to explore. With it, she pouts and glares at me.

Yup. I hold the status of "mom" in her mind: controlling, demanding, and less patient than all the rest of the household members, minus the cat. (No, Mom, I'm not suggesting anything about you. I love you!) I also clean up all of her messes, feed her, wash her, put her to bed and tuck her in (ie, give her Mr. Teddy and pull down the towels over her crate), get up early to take care of her, and beat her when she's not playing nice with the other kids. And somehow my brother thinks he deserves her more than I do. Right. After all the effort I've put in, I'm not giving her away.

Sorry. I'm rambling and Melody is reading over my shoulder so I can't concentrate. 'Spose it's time to practice my writing-in-any-and-all-conditions.

A friend of mine recently wrote me into a story of hers. Yeah. I'm a daredevil who travels the world. According to her, I fought bulls in Spain, climbed the Eiffel Tower, and got a window seat for my gypsy wagon from an Arabian prince. My alter ego is way more exciting than myself.

The real me has spent a lot of time lately plotting my story. Yeah, not the important one I've been working on for three years. No, not that one. Why on earth would I be working on that one?

Help. I'm going crazy and myself is the one driving the bus. And I don't have a passport, and one cannot reenter the US of A without one. So I'm stuck.

Okay. I really am just spouting nonsense. Pain. But hey, I'm blogging twice a week, and that's better than I've done in a while. However, I think I'll stop now.

Oh! We got snow! Yeah, deadly snow. I wanted it, but not like this.

Okay. Now I'll go.