Igor.... It LIVES!

The sad thing is, this blog is probably an accurate depiction of my life.

Moving on, because I've been silent too long and I have things to say! 

Thank the springtime rain. The shift in weather seems to have awakened my deeper sense of the world. Or something. 

Firstly, I stumbled one step deeper into that dark, cavernous realm called "adulthood". I'm pretty sure I stubbed my toe, and what on earth is that dripping sound? Am I the only one who hears something very large breathing?

My Monday last week started off like this. Yes, that is self-inflicted. Thankfully I'm able to keep the greater life lessons contained to my work place so I at least have someone around to help me pick up the pieces. 

Long story short (because frankly it's embarrassing) I swallowed my tears and replaced the impaled tire with my donut, arranged for and paid to have the tire replaced, and, with the help of a new jack and tire iron, replaced the tire. 

All this with only a little muscle and prodding from my parents. Despite the pain to my pride and my savings account, I'm proud of how I handled myself. (Also, one of my co-workers said I got farther by myself than his wife would have and, coming from him, that's a true compliment.)

2) We have 30-odd eggs about to hatch. 

Item three: there's also a guinea pig now (not mine). No pictures, though. Chubs is extremely shy. We now have poultry (too many to count), canines, reptiles, rodents, and fish. All we need is a house bird and a pony and we will be complete. (Mom also wants goats. We're holding her at bay for now, but no promises. (We don't even like goat milk.)) Someone may try to add felines to that list. I'm dubious of the wisdom of that plan. 

     3.5 - we are also now the hosts of our own hoarde of little cannibals. 

Do not be fooled by their fluffiness. Do heed the warnings of the red light. These are meat birds. Their sole purpose in life is to grow big and fat really quickly and then...! *mimes slicing throat* This picture is a little old and they're already well on their way to the dinosaur stage. They eat, they sleep, they drink, they eat, and if their food isn't constantly full they will turn on your...or each other. If regular chickens are the sharks of bird-kind, these are piranhas. 

Four, as most of you know, is that I have discovered a new artistic outlet which has lasted longer than a month: painting on canvas. Mostly words, because I love those, but a few are just awesome patterns. 

It's all very trial-and-error but I'm catching on quickly. Now master calligraphy.... (More pictures on my Instagram account [the_magicmirror] , because they be many.)

And speaking of social media and the like, (5) I broke down and joined Pintrest. (That's how I broke into the canvas gig.) No, I will not share. The last thing I need is encouragement. Next up: Etsy!

VI. I have managed to sustain a houseplant for more than a month! 

It got a little withered at one point but is surprisingly resilient and perked back up overnight with some water. I looked for one labeled "low diffused light" and "light watering". That is the key. 

7) I haven't washed my hair since Monday. Be jealous. I have rediscovered dry shampoo, and it feels a little like cheating, but my temples get greasy. (You're welcome for the random fact you probably never wanted to know.)

Ocho - my favorite word at the moment is "embrace". Think about it: not only does it mean acceptance and open arms; but is also means safety, arms wrapped tightly. It's a warm hiding place against the world; it's a place of rest; it's a promise of support. *pulls out canvas* plus, it rolls rather nicely off the tongue. 

That really is all I have for now. The goal was to bring everyone up to speed. Can't say as I covered everything, but it's the first step that's always the messiest. I wanted to get over that one quickly. 

The Truth Behind My Name (Also: Planking)

I was sitting at my desk this morning wondering what I was going to blog about today, since it's Tuesday and I'm trying to make that a post day. I have a few posts "in the works", but they're either in-depth or extensive rants and aren't ready for sharing.

I don't believe in karma. I do, however, hold a great appreciation for coincidence and irony. A few minutes after pondering this blog dilemma, I received a voicemail from a customer. It started out, "I was talking to a young lady at your office yesterday," and ended with, "could you please have that young lady call me?" I called her back, and the first thing she said was, "You said Amber? I couldn't remember your name when I left the message, but it's such an unusual name I should have been able to."

Thus contradicting my life-long belief that "Amber" is a fairly ordinary name.

(Counts number of Ambers I know....)

Congratulations, Dad. Not only did you help in choosing nine names collectively for your kids, you managed to pick ones that were relatively unique! Who knew? I certainly didn't.

I suppose now is a good time to share with you the history of my name. Wesley's name story is Mom, Dad, and friends in a car shouting out boy names until they hit upon one they thought sounded nice. Mine? I have the honor of being named after a character in "The Running Man".

Y'know? The Arnold Schwarzenegger movie?

Imagine my delight when I learned that tidbit.

At that point I had never seen "The Running Man". A couple years later, I walked into the living room while Mom and Dad were in the middle of it.

All that hard work learning to appreciate and accept my name started to peel around the edges.

This is why:

Don't even get me started on the suits. Nah, what gets me is that my namesake (or am I her namesake???) spends a good portion of her screen time screaming.

I mean, I probably would spend most of my time screaming if I was in her shoes, but.... Just no. It doesn't help that she plays in a Schwarzenegger movie. (For those of you who can't sense sarcasm through the screen or who haven't already learned this of me: I don't like Arnold Schwarzenegger very much. The fact that I've had to spell his name three times already isn't helping.)

<end rant>

I actually had thought of another topic to amuse you with before the aforementioned phonecall, so since I have the time I'll move on to that!

In the wake of my first post of the year, I sat back and reevaluated several aspects of my life. The conclusion at which I arrived is no surprise: certain things need to change. And unlike some people who are rational and tackle on thing at a time, I've gone for the overhaul approach.

I have a working budget in place and am trying to remain aggressively dedicated to it because, if nothing else, I need a car. I'm already doing OK with my eating habits but they could stand to be adjusted. And I'm trying to stay fit.

Since I miss my 1/2 mile jog at work every day because of the snow, I was starting to get worried about what to do in place of that (not to say a 1/2 mile jog everyday is all I need to do to keep fit, but it's a start). Browsing facebook around the New Year, I came across a post for the 30-day Plank Challenge and thought, "That looks my speed. I do need to strengthen my core. Why not?"

I actually started it Sunday morning, and this is what I have learned so far:

1) My thighs are already killing me. Everything else feels fine so far, so either it's too early to for the rest of my body to get on board the "good kind of pain" train or I have my form all wrong. Possibly both.

2) Never judge a workout routine based on the pictures. I should know this by now. I really should.

3) Never do anything like yoga with my dog around. The moment I lie down on the floor she's in my face. Either she's worried about me; she sees a perfect opportunity to snuggle; or, in her twisted way, she thinks I am finally submitting my authority to her. In any case, I have to ban her from my room when I do my morning stretched.

4) "The secret to getting ahead is getting started." - Mark Twain

5) Half of my problem must surely be the face that I'm trying to plank on a laminate floor.

I've never been very fit. (I ceased being able to touch my toes when I was, like, ten.) The idea is exciting, but I tend to lose my drive pretty quickly. We have Wii Fit and for a while I was going pretty strong on that, at least with a bit of yoga. But have any of you ever had the Wii give that shocked little "Oh" when you wobble on the board? Yeah, I got sick of that. I was walking my dog pretty regularly, but then winter hit and I'm at work sunup to sundown. So planking it is, until I break something or find a better alternative.

I'll keep you posted.

But God

I've lacked blogging inspiration in my surroundings lately, so I'm turning to the scatterbrained musings of this 20-odd-years head to maintain what little momentum I can muster. As I'm writing on the last half of my lunch break and am short on time as well as inspiration, it works out pretty well.

There is a phrase in the Bible that always gives me chills when I read it. (Hint: it's in the title of this post.) It's like a light that bursts on in a place crowded in darkness; a small smile given to someone who's too weak to press on, as if to say, "Watch this."

I know a lot of people who have "life verses". Yeah, I tried doing that. The verse changes depending on the stage of life I'm in. Years ago when I first tried this, the verse of choice was Romans 5:8. It's still a favorite. Here's the context:

For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die. But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. - Rom. 5:6-8

There we were, wallowing in the mire of sin without a light or a hand to help us out. We had intentionally turned from God. We were without hope, utterly lost and blind. Man couldn't save man. No man is that good, that righteous, that powerful. Man would barely surrender his life for a good man, let alone the whole stinking mess of the human race.

But God

See? Chills.

While we wandered that darkness, unable to carry ourselves away from it, God stepped in. He found us worthy of His love. He deemed us deserving of His blood. Man couldn't fix the mess, but God could.

When I'm wandering around in a daze wondering how I'm going to do something with my life that counts, I'm reminded that I am not. I don't have that strength. I don't have that wisdom. And I don't need to. God can use anyone, with any education, from any walk of life. We don't bring anything to the table but our hearts and our faith. Isn't it easier to hand it over to Him? He gave us all the talents we possess. It seems He would know best how they can be used.

For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God had chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty. And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are. - I Cor. 1:26-28

The enemy is waving his fist crying, "See what I've done? Fix that if you can." To which we can calmly reply, "Yeah, that's nice. But God."

Here's one more for today because my half hour is winding down:

And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins; wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience: among whom also we all had our conversation in time past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;) - Eph. 2:2-5

In Paul's fashion, the sentence runs on for a while longer, but this is the focus here. (Also, "quickened" makes a nice word study.) We used to be like the world, wandering in that darkness. We didn't have anything to live for but fulfilling our fleshly desires, working out the disease of sin in our lives. But then God stepped on the scene. He offered light to any and all, and by His grace and mercy welcomed all who took His hand. He has given us a purpose, empowered us to live for something more, shown us hope.

It was nothing we did. I know from 20 years of experience that I'm far better at making messes than fixing them. But God.

(How's that for a lunchtime musing? Also for your perusal, a few other verses: I Cor. 10:13; 12;24; Phil. 4:9)

The Definition of Happiness

Please note: the following post is long, confused, disorganized, and raw from my brain. I do apologize, but it's something I needed to say, and the best way I know how is to spew it straight from brain to screen.

Recently it was brought to my attention that I possess a crippling habit: list making.

I can't really be sure how this came about in my life. I used to abhor lists. Heather was always the one with the to-do list she was checking off. Maybe it was just the fact that I never seemed to accomplish as much as she did. Or perhaps she wasn't ever as detailed as I in list making. Where she put "clean room", I may have listed: "make bed, sort laundry, vacuum, etc". Who knows? I'll have to ask.

Anywho, at one time in the last couple of years I discovered the thrill of checking things off a list. Something about that tangible evidence that you accomplished something (even though you might be staring at the freshly scrubbed dishes or folded laundry, it's not the same unless you put a check mark next to that line). Hunger for that thrill developed into an obsession, and suddenly every aspect of my life went onto a list somewhere so I could proudly mark complete every visit to the bank; trip to the store to get ranch dressing (check), tissues (check), dog treats (check), flower pots (check), notebooks (crossed out because, turns out, I don't need another); and game prep completed for Wednesday classes.

I think it must have really started when I tried out that Day Zero Project back when I was sixteen or seventeen. At least in that case, it was all fun long-term goals I didn't really need to accomplish, but it was downhill from there.

Lately, I found that those lists were nothing more than a burden. They mocked me, especially when I forgot to turn off the notifications on the newly-discovered "Reminders" app of my phone: "walk your dog", "please put away that horrendous pile of laundry hiding your floor", "find time in your hectic schedule to tap out two or three hundred words so you don't fall behind", and on and on. Also, every Tuesday and Friday for the last couple of weeks, I've scribbled "BLOG!" on my daily list of things to do. Clearly I have a clear grasp of priorities. 

I also found I was relying on my notes for everything, particularly at work.

It hurts, guys. It's painful, like some terrible addiction I know I need to quit but can't bring myself to quit because it hurts. In her own subtle (or not-so-subtle) way, Mom intervened. (Love how I'm making this into a mock-drama of a drug addiction? You have no idea.) She casually remarked that, for goodness sake, I needed to quit writing notes for everything and just use my God-given (and God-ordained rather poor) memory like humans are intended to.

That's probably the most terrifying part: I'm so scatter-brained, without some sort of note to rein me in, I'm bound to forget something crucial at some point. But slowly I'm forcing myself to let go of that security blanket.

The lists are being reduced to taking notes from phone calls and to writing reminders for things I absolutely cannot forget at any cost (which turns out to be very little, really).

And now, I'm starting a new kind of list.

The idea started months ago, when one of the girls mentioned a challenge their youth group team leader had put to their group: every day, write something you're thankful for.

I have often found that I tend to focus on the negative side of life and don't stop to appreciate the bright side: I see the puddles and don't smell spring rain, which I love.

On the radio the other day, I heard something to the affect of "Instead of bashing the things you don't like, try promoting the things you do like". Which is something else I'm working on: not voicing rude things that come to mind when I'm in a bad mood, but smiling whenever I come across something that perked me up.

But back to that list: happiness.

When I force myself out of my own mental puddle and take a breath and a good look around, there are plenty of things that bring that smile to my face. My goal is to learn to appreciate those things rather than getting glum over their muddy counterparts.

Happiness is....

Sunshine

Fresh air

Home-cooked meals

When another driver lets me go first (unless, of course, their kindness results in me getting rammed into, but I've moved on)

Years ago, our youth pastor preached a message which has stayed with me. He talked about our personal levels of contentment, and I believe he used Philippians 4:11&12:

11) Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. 12) I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.

The idea was that we can choose how much good we require to be content with ourselves and our lives. We define our own level of contentment. If we can agree with ourselves that we can be content with three square meals, a comfortable house, and a car that runs, we will be happy when we have those things. Furthermore, anything about and beyond that measure will be received as a blessing.

On the other hand, if we convince ourselves that we will not be content until we have a car manufactured after the year 2000, a house with an extra bedroom, money to eat out more than once a month, and our favorite store's entire spring clothing line, we will probably never feel content even with the many things we do have.

I have learned to be content with the condition of my life: my poor beater car, our big drafty house, my amazing family, and a talent for making a meal out of practically anything. However, when it comes to the day-to-day circumstances, my personal happiness can flop like a broken pendulum every time someone walks by.

I have a hard time taking every throw in stride, both good and bad. It takes me a while to recover from a hard word, a mistake, or bad news. And yes, I am severely affected by the weather, and possible the lunar phases as well, but I am consciously working on that.

Last year something I dedicated a post to Philippians 4:5 (or at least I tried to, but looking back, that post was all over the place). Very often these days that verse comes to mind:

5) Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand. 6) Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. 7) And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

Brave the old post if you dare. In short, the idea is maintaining a steadfastness about your nature, not tossed back and forth from despair to joy as the wind changes; leaning on God, trusting Him with tomorrow (rather than borrowing its troubles today), and letting His peace reign.

Happiness is only part of the issue. Happiness is a temporal thing, measured and dictated by our current condition or circumstance, even when we struggle to be content with our lot. The real thing is joy. True joy is something only God can bring, and it is not defined by our outward condition. It's defined by our inward state and our identity in Christ.

I go back to Paul whenever this topic comes to mind. If you want to read about a man who took everything in stride, look at Paul. And after everything, when he stood before King Agrippa and was permitted to give an account of himself, this is what he said: "I think myself happy" (Acts 26:2).

He had suffered shipwrecks and stonings, betrayals and rejection, and now at last was brought as a prisoner before the king. Yet he found himself happy, because he was exactly where he wanted to be, with the king's full attention. Read Acts 26 sometime; Paul makes full use of the opportunity and lays out his testimony in full. Festus calls him a mad babbler, but Paul politely disagrees. He was confident in his work, knowing full well that he was right where he belonged and serving God to the best of his ability, and that was enough.

So maybe I don't have some "great calling" like Paul. I don't think I'd do too well with that sort of adventure right now, anyway. It's better that I bide my time, training myself to take every rude customer and bad day in stride and learn a lesson from each of them, the better to serve when the bigger opportunities rise.

Most of all, I'm learning to be content exactly where I am rather than longing for one more thing, dreaming of a bigger adventure, wasting my time wishing I was doing something else. I'm right where God needs me. I just have to be open for Him to use me in the ways I can't yet see. 

A rather incoherent late night post

My mind is running in a dozen different directions. I was trying to come up with something to blog about on the way home (ah, summer hours) because I'd been too lazy to blog earlier. I spent most of my day watching movies and hanging out with siblings and a friend who were all only semi-concious as they recovered from Lock-In. I'd spent the night nibbling brownies and watching Karate Kid (the original) and getting to sleep near my normal hour (after kicking Hershey off my bed for the fifth time).

It's been a dreary week.

I need to be careful I don't make this late-night blogging a habit! Right now I'm munching on a lukewarm roast and dodging around Mom while she tends to the chicks and gets them settled for the night. She just did a head count; it's about like that scene in Robots when...the red guy voiced by Robin Williams is trying to count baddies. ("Will you all quit moving around? I think I counted one of you twice!")

Right! Focus (Daniel-San...).

I wrote a post a while ago about late night driving and the dangers of deer on the roads. And my subsequent fear of encountering said creatures on the road in the dark. (Even during the day, but especially at night...) With work, I've been doing a lot of night driving, and I'm pretty used to it. I have to turn on a radio station with junky music because I need background noise but I lose focus when songs I actually enjoy are being played.

Anywho! Due to the flooding, I'm having to take a different route home. This road is narrower and the trees are closer, making it easier for deer to hide. But I had a revelation of sorts: it's not the deer that scare me. It's the other drivers.

People driving at night are worse than during the day. Admit it. Misuse (or lack of use entirely) of blinkers seems to be a prevailing issue around here, but at night people figure they aren't necessary at all. What? And brights? I know there are deer. I'm just as concerned about them as you at. But when you are coming at me with lights equaling the intesity of the noonday sun, you need to be worried about me, because I can no longer see to make sure I'm keeping to my own lane.

However, both of these issues are things I deal with not just from other drivers, but from myself. At least, my car.

The switch with the blinker, lights, and cruise control is messed up. (And it'd over $100 to fix it.) Whenever I need to use the blinker, I have to switch it up or down and then pull it forward. And it's harder to use when it's cold outside. This problem is further compounded by the face that pulling that lever-thing forward also switched on the brights.

See where I'm going?

If a car is coming at me and their brights are just too much to bear, I'll flicker my own to kindly hint that they need to disengage theirs. However, sometimes the poor driver coming toward me is following all the rules of the road and I flash my brights at them anyway, because the blinker won't work. This happened a couple weeks ago. Said approaching driver then proceeded to display their brights as if I need reassurance that they weren't on. I almost missed my turn.

I don't have any of these problems (at least my side of them) in Mom's car. Her brights stink, to be honest. They're the equivalent of another car's regular lights. It's okay if I forget they're on and a car is approaching; they can't tell the difference. In my car, I have to be careful, because its brights are the sort that set other people to flashing theirs.

Wow. I'm rambling. This is totally not what I intended.

Like I said, I had a whole bunch of thoughts on what I could blog about. I usually hit my second wind around 11 at night, if I'm still awake. (I know. The normal person doesn't get that until 2 or 3 in the morning.) But this is as good as it's going to get. I'd better leave now before I do any more damage.

April Fool!

I've never been one for April Fool pranks. Or any other pranks or practical jokes, for that matter. I always feel kind of guilty for making other people freak out and then laughing at them, and I can't say I really enjoy being laughed at most of the time. I think the worst prank I ever did was refold an empty gum wrapper, stick it in the pack, and offer it to someone. (I know. Homeschoolers. I can't tell you how much pleasure my 7-year-old self derived from that "trick".)

Today I saw people on facebook posting about April Fools Day pranks, but wasn't really worried to be the recipient of any. I spent my day in innocent bliss: washing dishes, playing with the chickens (oh, we got four more....), giving Sasha a shower, and pining for sunshine.

Around 4:00, I remembered that I'd been meaning to check my library account because I had some books coming due. I got on and saw that I had quite a few actually overdue. Snap. Since I had to be to work in an hour, I figured I'd better get moving so I could drop the books off at the library.

As I was cramming things into my purse (I really need a better catch-all purse), my phone rang. Work. Now what?

When I answered, one of my co-oworkers asked if I was almost there. Not understanding at first, I asked her to repeat the question.

"Um, no. I'm not in until 5:00."

"No. You're scheduled for 4:00."

Cue panic attack. Psychological pranks are possibly my least favorite. So I'm freaking out, Mom is freaking out, and I somehow end up on the floor. Then my co-worker starts laughing, and I hear more laughter in the background. (Yes, she had it on speaker.) Through the laughter, she choked out, "April Fools!" I proceeded to huff about what a brat she was. And then I chuckled and hung up. Right.

I left soon after, and my run to the library didn't take as long as I thought, so I ended up getting to work early anyway. And for the rest of the night, we were all on edge. I really hate this "holiday".

In other news, we got four more chicks a couple days ago. Mom, Heather, and I set out for an hour-long drive to a hatchery with the intention of getting the much-desired Silkies. Unfortunately, there'd been some miscommunication somewhere along the line; the Silkies were all gone. Turns out they're in high demand this year. A little disappointment on Heather's part, and then we got three Polish chickens and a Brahma. They could be either hens or roosters, but they already have names. The Brahma, Heather's concilatory/Easter gift, is named Ginger. And she (though it may be a "he") knows she's exotic. And she has some attitude. On the other hand, the Polish chickens are pretty quiet and easy-going, so they get picked on (quite literally) by the others. They are Elvis, Presley, and Aida or Aidan. (Yes, Elvis and Presley. I tried to convince Mom that if the one she dubbed "Elvis" turned out to be a hen, she could call it "Presley" because it sounds more like a unisex name, but the next day one of the others was Presley.)

We're getting quite the collection. 23 chickens and 2 ducks. The oldest ones are starting to hit the "dinosaur stage", where they lose their baby fluff and start getting their adult feathers. When we went to get the last four chickens, we saw some ducks in this stage, and they were, quite frankly, ugly. As Mom put it, they looked rather like they had mange: fluff half-gone and feathers poking out all over the place.

I'm starting to think it was a bad idea naming the chickens; at least the Buffs. They're becoming kind of hard to distinguish from one another. Lobelia is still the lightest of the older set. I just keep an eye on her so I know which one she is. It helps that she's the most daring. She likes sitting on people's hands and arms. Mostly, she's trying to escape (and she can get some good air when she flaps her wings) but in that regard she's nicer than the rest.

Anyone getting bored yet? I know it's short, but I think I'll end here for the day. I'm still working on my Easter post. Maybe tomorrow....

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?

There's something wrong with my dog. (Also, my impending birthday.)

I should be cleaning my room, packing for the retreat, washing some very dirty pots and pans, and a load of other things, but no. I'm here instead.

Who's complaining?

Not I.

Actually, I'm currently trying to will away one of those horrid headaches which somehow affect the stomach. (I call it a migraine, but considering how some friends experience migraines, it seems a little rude and unfair to do so.) And also, for some reason, eating "Cap'n Crunch's Oops! All Berries" cereal in hopes that food will force out the headache. Don't ask.

I should also be writing furiously because tomorrow is my birthday and - oh, look! - it's been 16 months and counting since I started that *cough* book and I still have six or seven chapters, 20,000 words, until completion and  two weeks ago I thought I could get it done by my birthday. (16 months to write 70,000 words. What is wrong with me?)

And all I want to do is talk about my dog.

Last day as an 18-year-old. How creepy/weird/unnerving is that?!

Around lunchtime tomorrow, I will have been alive for 19 whole stinkin' years. (And what boggles the brain is taking into account that I'll be stepping into my twentieth year in existence.)

I was once again bemoaning the trials of growing up the other day. Used to be, my biggest dream was owning a horse. But, growing up and all, I've had to learn some hard lessons about life: horses cost money, and require space in which to house and exercise them, and the average American is hard-pressed as it is to make money enough to sustain themselves and a 50-pound puppy when the weather turns to snow and their place of employment caters to people who prefer sunshine to entice their appetite, thus cutting short said average person's expected weekly hours.

Not that I'm bitter.

Back on the "Why growing up is kind of emotionally painful" subject:

When you're a kid, you haven't lived long enough to discover the limitations and expectations and unfortunate truths about life. It's all open and full of possibilities. Anything can happen. And then, like an internet test to judge which occupation is best suited for you, the longer you continue, the more things get whittled down, and suddenly you can't incorporate plants and storytelling into one lifestyle. And one day, you're forced to choose which dreams to pursue and which to let free, only to be recalled when you're telling your kids, "Once, I used to want to...."

But life is also exciting, because sometimes things happen far different than you could ever have imagined, and in some ways the unexpectedness is a pleasant surprise.

Yes, my brain is stuck on surprises because people keep suggesting that that's what I'll be getting lots of for my birthday. Or maybe I'm just reading into all of my recent conversations way too much?

True, I've never been truly surprised for my birthday (Mom likes lists so she has some idea what we would like so we don't get disappointed or she doesn't guess way off or something) but I've come to learn that I don't really like my friends' idea of "surprises". (If you're reading this, Jordan Dear, I'm thinking specifically of you, and in the case of Christmas, I shouldn't have been surprised. But I felt scandalized. Just so you know.)

I was supposed to be talking about my dog.

Well....

Last week, she went to the vet for her skin issues. Bye-bye paycheck.

But no. First, she came to church with us. Because Mom had to take her to the vet so I had to take over Mom's co-op class for the day, and Mom wasn't going to drop us off and then go back home for the mongrel.

And I have decided that, as far as my dog ownership goes, I am a colossal failure. (I was doing to go with "abysmal", but....)

We were the first ones there. Fine. Sasha ran and played and chased and wagged her tail.

People.

Good heavens, people.

My dog turned into a monster.

I was on the verge of tears.

My habit of appologizing profusely when I'm upset or embarassed came out in full force.

Mom left early, dragging the snarling dingo behind her.

And the same display of attitude was presented at the vet.

I will probably never be able to convince my dog that it's okay for me to live with other people, should I ever move out and get a roommate (or get married...).

The vet said it was probably overstimulation or something (new place, lots of new people) and misery from an apparent yeast infection. And I felt like even more of a failure.

Why does my dog have to be bipolar?

I mean, at home, she's generally...well, not quiet, not sweet, but not a monster either. Just weird. But that's her normal. She's almost endearing for it.

Or she has us all deceived.

But she doesn't snarl and snap unless you try to use her for a foot rest. And she loves being petted and doted upon and talked to. She loves playing chase and abusing her teddy bear.

And tomorrow four boys will be arriving to spend the weekend and my darling idiot will be moved to another room while I, her mistress, will abandon her.

I have a very bad feeling about this. Downright foreboding.

So I didn't take my dog to training classes for socialization, and now.... She's hopeless. Good-bye, loving family dog who's so easy going and friendly to everyone and the picture-perfect American household.

And good-bye to "Oops! All Berries". My headache is still present and accounted for.

So the dogs have been begging for more time outside since the weather has changed. We don't have any sort of fense, invisible or otherwise, so I had to cave and get a run. (Even though now we're getting a proper fence soon, which means I wasted $20.) I put Sasha outside on it about 20 muinutes ago.

Apparently she needs me to hold her...paw when she's outside.

I snapped on the lead, took off the leash, and turned back for the door. Sasha didn't move. She just looked at me, waiting, expecting me to pace beside her while she did her business and then frolicked along getting all tangled.

I told her, "Too bad," and went inside.

I've checked on her three times.

She hasn't moved.

She has remained sitting at the end of the lead, watching the door and looked all excited when I appear.

How can this dependant little creature turn into such a horror?

What have I done?

Or is it, What haven't I done?

Well, there. I posted on my last day as 18. Mission accomplished.

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?

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.

Bird Watching: Truffles vs. Bluejay

This past week we've been working on getting the yard cleared up because the city has free pick-up of yard waste and such for a couple weeks. So this morning I went out to the backyard to do some raking, putting Sasha in the kennel because we were the only ones awake.

I was working on gathering all the leaves in the garden area when I finally took notice of a loud bird that had been practically screaming for the past few minutes. Looking around, I saw Truffles sneaking through the twisted branches of some gnarled tree nearby. Overhead darted a bluejay - back and forth, all around the tree, feathers ruffled and cawing like crazy. I think there was a nest in the tree, but I can't be sure. That would be my guess because, though the bird was clearly what Truffles was after, I can't think of any reason it would be hanging around and be so angry except for a nest.

I put down the rake and moved closer to see just what was going on. The bluejay kept flitting around that tree and occasionally up to the higher branches of the tree next to it. Truffles was having some difficulty getting through the tangled mass of branches, but his eyes stayed almost constantly on the bird. The bluejay would sit on a branch and yell at Truffles, perhaps take a few jabs at the branch with its beak, and then quickly move to another branch.

In a minute this activity drew another bluejay to the scene, and then there were two angry birds darting around, stabbing at branches, and screaming in unison at the smug cat. Soon more birds appeared - one little bird I couldn't identify came to rest in the high branches of one tree and three or four cardinals settled on a bush. The bluejays had gone quiet, only shrieking in rage every now and then. Truffles completely ignored the nest (I'm pretty sure that's what I saw on the other side of the tree) and kept looking for the quickest route to the top.

Only when I saw the female cardinal resting quietly in plain sight did I have the sense to hurry inside for a camera. It took me longer than I wanted because I couldn't find Mom's, so eventually I had to borrow Heather's point-n-shoot. (Sorry, Heather.) When I came back outside, all the birds but one bluejay (presumably the first) had left, and the one that remained was almost silent, though still moving frantically from branch to branch.

I tried to get some pictures, but failed. Truffles saw that his hunt wasn't going to be a success, so with some frustrated yowls he clambered down from the tree and sat among the lilies glaring fiercely. The bluejay hung around for a while, but I think it finally realized the cat wasn't after the nest.

I was doing so well for a while there.

I'm not even going to try to make an excuse for my negligence. Granted, the past couple of weeks were eventful, but I still had plenty of time most days to blog.

And it seems my computer doesn't want me to blog. Right as I started writing, it shut off on me.

Anyway. I'll stop making excuses and waiting to forget about blogging and finally do it.

Okay, October the 3rd.... Wow. A lot has happened since then. Okay, speed recap! (Ha!)

That was the start of the Revival Meetings at church. Well, I guess Sunday was. Sunday through Wednesday. That's my first excuse, though they didn't start until 7. At 5:30 Monday-Wednesday a bunch of us kids headed out to sell coupon books. We made some good progress, though I think we'll need to start looking for a new method of fundraising. Three or four other groups are selling coupons, too, and they get started a couple weeks before we do every year.

Because of Revival, we didn't have Bible study or Institute.

Thursday, of course, was co-op. Nothing special there. Well, at least, not out of the ordinary, but the whole experience can be very awesome. Mrs. Johnson needs an award for coolest science teacher. I rarely dreaded coming to chemistry, as much as I hated it, because she's great at making the whole thing fun and as easy as possible.

Friday and Saturday I was up early to go to work with Dad. Heather came with me on Saturday. We mostly worked in the back room, unpacking product and sorting and storing it in preparation for the remodel.

On Sunday afternoon, a couple of us Sr. High girls spent the day with one of the awesome ladies who works in the youth group. We made cookies and soup and listened to a 2-hour recording of the testimony of Darlene Diebler, a missionary who'd been in prison camps during WWII. Wow! What a powerful testimony. I think it also had something to do with one of the girls deciding at church that night that she wanted to be a missionary, which makes it doubly awesome and exciting.

I'm going to pause in my recap to say this: I truly do have an amazing youth group. Yes, we're all human. Yes, we most certainly make some terrible mistakes and we are very capable of doing stupid things (as I realized yet again this week). But I don't know where I'd be, or who I'd be, without the awesome people God's put in my life through this. I don't thank Him nearly enough for it.

So last Monday was normal. Just coupon books and Bible study. Tuesday was also normal, with Institute. On Wednesday and Thursday, we did the remodel at Dad's store: myself and Heather, Vanna and Mrs. Wright, and Abby S. and her mom were all there. That was exciting! I spent a good deal of my time organizing books in the Christian living, charismatic, parenting, and marriage sections. Oh, what fun! Seriously, trying to alphabetize that many books makes my brain ache, and it shut down half-way through so I couldn't remember where anything belonged. Not fun.

Also we'd called of co-op for the week because so many of us were not going to make it.

We didn't do a whole lot on Friday, except Vanna came over to spend the night so she could come to the church with us on Saturday to help prepare for the Chili Cook-off.

We arrived at the church around noon on Saturday. There were 7 of us in the group, though for a while only four of us were there working. Our theme was Italian, as we were doing pizza soup (it's become very popular in the youth group). Saturday was tiring in many ways, some of them not really related to the cook-off, though I really don't want to go into that. I did have a pretty decent headache by the end of the night, though thankfully it wasn't nearly as crowded as in past years. Must be because we did it two weeks earlier than normal and it came up kind of suddenly.

So a few of us wore (or drew on, in the case of one) mustaches, some had aprons, some had hats, and one was a mime. We had bread and soup with bacon bits, cheese, and olives as sides and decorated with a giant sign framed by curtains (shower curtains, no less), a checkered table cloth, candles, and peppers. It was fun, though I didn't really get around much and only had chili from one table.

Bro. Mark's brother and niece were the judges. That was fun. They judge chili, soup, and presentation. When Pastor stood on a chair to announce the winners, he did 3rd for chili, soup, and table, then 2nd for all, then 1st. When we weren't called each time, we got more and more nervous. He got to 1st place soup and called our table. Abby S., Heather, and Tonya marched up to get the prize (a gift card), and Pastor said, "How could you not give it to them? Look at them!" Then he told the girls to stay up there because we also won for presentation!

Yeah, I jumped up and cheered like an idiot.

$50 isn't really much between 7 people, but it was a nice way to end an exciting day.

On Saturday I also decided it was time to take a break from facebook. I have numerous reasons for doing this, one of them being messed up priorities. And, sad as it is, it's hard to do. But in 2 days I've already seen how helpful it'll be for me.

Sunday. Wow. I think I should write a book with all of the adventures I have early in the morning. Mom had 80 papers added to her routes this past week. (Being former walking routes, they're all condensed, so it only adds 20 minutes tops.) Sunday was the first time I'd done them, because I was working at Dad's store on Thursday.

So we're about halfway through routes, working on the new route. Everything's going fine for me never having done the route. Then we notice a fire on the side of the road. One of the leaf piles that had been raked (too far) into the road was on fire. Happening to glance back at where we'd just been, Mom saw a larger fire in at the end of the court we'd just done.

We got to call 911 and report it. Oh, yay.

While we're waiting for help to arrive (they told Mom she could go but she wanted to make sure it was taken care of) Mom started wondering how it could have happened, and then she wondered if we could have started the fires on accident. She didn't dare ask the policeman when he arrived if this was even possible. (Yeah, the policeman came a good five minutes before the fire truck cruised in. He got an extinguisher from his trunk and doused the larger fire. The first one had dimmed to smoldering ashes.)

We left to finish routes. When we were done, Mom quickly drove through the new route and a few other streets to see if there were any other fires, me all the time trying to assure her that I honestly didn't think it was our fault.

Mom later learned that she wasn't the only paper carrier to see fires that morning. Apparently somebody had been going through and lighting leaves on fire. Nice.

That brings us up to yesterday. It was a quiet day for me, because I wasn't feeling good. I ended up napping, and then opted out of coupon sales and Bible study. Not much to be said about yesterday.

I'm thinking a (not so short) recap is all I'll write today. Now that it's taken me almost an hour just to write this, I think it's enough for one day. That, and I really don't have anything else to day. I know I had thought of something to write yesterday, but I didn't even make a note of it and now I can't remember what it was. Oh, well.