Fruit of the Carolyn

Phoenix

2012-02-04T11:21:00.000-08:00

I did not think this blog would rise again. But I couldn't quite bring myself to delete it. For years my readers were my friends, my confidants, and my society.

And I've missed you.

So here I am.

Less and more. Working and writing and writing and working. Right now I'm doing this site. I spend hours writing and re-writing bits of content to be placed and replaced. Most days it's fun. Others not so much.

Every moment my children are with me, even though I spend too many hours away from them. Jax and Wyatt turned 9 and 7. Christmas came and left. There've been moments I want to remember forever...and time that I want to erase.

I may not have a farm...

2011-07-06T19:18:00.000-07:00

But now I have the truck...V8 302 4x4 and 4 on the floor.

The kids are fighting over who gets to ride in mommy's truck.

It's already one of my favorite things I've ever bought.

The Sander

2011-06-13T19:06:00.000-07:00

Dan and Colt lifted the iron and brass bed out of the mini-van. My sensibilities and my savings account have prevented me from filling my new house with brand-new furniture. So Mr. Craigslist and I have become BFF shopping buddies.

The two dressers are hardwood with several layers of paint. It was after 9 when they got back and I whipped out my sander from a near-by open box of tools. Two minutes later I was smiling as I saw the potential of my latest furniture find.

This house may be new, but piece by piece I am giving it an old soul.

Speaking of souls. Mine has been drenched in the deluge of life and wrung out. Leaving me wrinkled and misshapen. Slowly my days are finding rhythm. I miss the time with my freckle-faced cherubs. I doubt my decisions. I have big dreams and even bigger nightmares.

I try to fit in as many kisses as possible. Even when they are still asleep in the early morning and I click out the door on my high heals, my heartstrings pulling with every step. The fabulous camera is dormant in the closet, but at least I've found time to buy a few doormats.

This desert grown tumble weed has rolled into a humid suburban jungle, complete with matching mcmansions, for now I'm caught. But I know I will roll again.

Pepper spray is not optional

2011-05-18T13:46:00.001-07:00

I felt the teeth sink into my leg. There was no 'fair bark' warning. It was a sneak attack.

Two miles into my run I was in the zone. Sailing down the country road I was feeling the intensity of the jarring first days in a new place evaporate.

Turning I saw two pit bulls. Instead of running I stood my ground. Screaming and furious I aimed a kick at the huge head closest to me and they backed off a few feet. Not far enough. I yelled some more hoping the owner would hear me and come out. Nothing.

Jogging over to the house across the street I kept one eye on the dogs. I knocked on the door and stood waiting.

I felt the blood running down my leg and looked down. It started dripping on the porch. The guy who answered the door looked like he was already a six-pack in and it took him about 2 minutes to process what I was saying.

“You need to call your neighbor to come out and call off their dogs! They just bit the crap out of my leg!” I repeated three times.

“I’ll look up the phone number.” He said and ambled inside.

My body vibrated with anger and adrenaline. I was fighting mad.

A toothless old man came out and waved his cane at the dogs. He hobbled over to me and a few minutes later his granddaughter pulled up in a yellow bug. She was the owner he said.

Without yelling or cursing (not a single expletive had escaped my lips…looking back I am surprised…I guess the good-girl Mormon breeding is programmed into my DNA even under duress) we exchanged information and I told her I was going to call animal control.

Still shaking with anger I shot off to run the two miles home. Every so often my leg would hurt. I’d let out a primal scream and push harder and faster. I ran two of my fastest miles ever. Dan played a joke on me when I got back and made me wait at the door. I almost ripped his head off when he opened the door. There was nothing left of my nerves to deal with his high school humor.

He stopped laughing when he saw the blood.

I took a picture then started washing it off. Searing knives of pain shot into my muscle. I saw a bit of white hanging out of the wounds. Shock was setting in and I thought it might be a piece of dog tooth. I pulled it out. The bolt of pain shot through me and I lost it. It wasn’t a piece of the dog; it was a piece of me.

I saw more bits of subcutaneous fat and I sobbed and rocked on the edge of the tub, my arms were wrapped around my body as if I had the power to somehow hold it together.

It took Dan about half an hour to convince me to go to the ER. I hate hospitals.

Not knowing where to go we typed ‘hospital’ into the GPS and loaded the kids into the van. They fell asleep on the way.

I walked in and almost walked right back out. The waiting room was filled and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. The nurse convinced me to stay with phrases like ‘risk of infection’ ‘tetanus’ and ‘rabies’.

For three hours I sat alone and shivering on a torture device posing as a chair. The last hour I sobbed quietly from sheer exhaustion. Remember in the past 5 days I had moved, started a new job, and hadn’t had a single full-nights' sleep. I may have to be dead before I go to the hospital again.

Finally they took me back. That hospital bed was delicious compared to the chair. I’d almost fallen asleep when they started stabbing my open wounds with long needles. Once again I wrapped my arms around my body, gritting my teeth and trying to hold on. It was one of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced. I'll have 4 tooth-sized scars. They leave puncture wounds open. Only one loose stitch on the biggest one...because it was so wide.

Another hour and a few happy pills later I was on my way home.

Dan carried the kids to bed and we fell asleep without thinking. Four hours later I woke up and got ready for my third day of work. Drove an hour. Dropped the boys off at school and arrived on time.

After hearing the story my temporary co-workers awarded me the ‘Employee of the Day’ award.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Birthday, Moving day, Last day, First day

2011-05-15T04:05:00.000-07:00

She made a banner that read, "true teenager". I ordered the cake. In the midst of all the moving madness Sierra turned 13. Forgoing pony rides and party games for lunch out and a 'shopping spree', my little girl marked another milestone. One that I couldn't ignore, no matter how hard I tried.

A few days later I sped down to 'Race City' for a closer look at my house-to-be. Fortune and fun cascaded over me as streams of light through big bay windows. Remember inspector Bob? He came to Mooresville to give my new home the once or twice over. Practically perfect in every way. No laundry list of things to fix this time. I won't know what to do with myself.

This move struck lightening fast, and here on my last day living in the land of Hokie birds, I'm gathering up the pieces of my heart and tossing them in a box. After climbing the final cliff, so tired I feared I wouldn't/couldn't hold on, I saw the summit yesterday. The familiar thrill of trying something new and triumph over the almost impossible whisked me up high. I couldn't come down if I wanted to.

Slide show memories are glowing in my head. The teacher who taught Wyatt how to read by holding him tight. The friend to folded me into her arms and told me she loved me. The church that came to my rescue. The sunset summer nights with the kids at the pool. The early morning milking in my magnificent barn. There are so many. Too many.

So good-bye Christiansburg Virginia.

I will miss you.

I won't forget.

There's bits of my soul mixed in the grout of this little house and soaked into the stone walls of Tech's campus.

I am leaving less and more. Changed.

I'll be back.

Seven Days

2011-05-09T03:30:00.000-07:00

In seven days I will no longer be living in the New River Valley. In seven days I will start my new job. A handful of (sure to be sleepless) nights and demanding days is all that stands between me and move number twenty-four. To 'Race City USA'. I didn't even realize until a few weeks ago that my new home was also the capital of NASCAR. If I wasn't a redneck before, the sheer proximity of all that fuel-injected frenzy may make the transformation complete.

Fast cars and gas fumes aside my thoughts are not on the future. Instead of mapping out every moment of the coming week. I am lying here in the morning hours missing the last seven days. Missing the last time I leaned my head against Isis and listened to warm milk zing into the silver bucket. Missing the last time a baby goat head-butted my leg for a turn at the bottle. Missing the swirl of rich milk in my chamomile tea.

The smell of fresh hay lingers in my hair. There's goat berries on my boots. The barn doors stand open for the first time and it doesn't matter that nobody remembered to shut the gate. Ivy sat down and sobbed yesterday when she couldn't find the baby goats in the pasture. My broken heart ached for both of us, though most of my tears were shed on a long drive through the blue mountains. Saturday morning I packed up seven goats in my mini-van and I kissed my baby goats and my farm girl dreams good-bye.

All new, again

2011-05-02T21:37:00.000-07:00

Invention is beautiful, pure, fundamental. Something new comes into existence where nothing was before.

Reinvention is not. It's messy, maddening, and just plain hard. The old fights becoming something different, grasping at the last straws of life known while being thrust into life unknown. No amount of passion can cover up the sorrow that swirls down the drain as the old washes away to make way for the new.

Last week everything changed. Twice. The details are still so raw that laying them out here is too daunting a task for 12:07 a.m.

The results, however, are in.

I am going back to corporate America. Lowe's Corporate to be exact. Next time you toss that Lowe's ad in the recycle bin I ask you to pause and think of me. That will be my headline you are covering with eggshells and leftover edamame.

I'm selling my goats and tearing away the the part of me that is rooted in living off the land. They kidded Easter weekend. I spend the night sitting in the dark watching for baby goats. By 3 am I was feeding them all wet and warm in my arms.

The motivation is practical and principled and painful. I sold my house. My blood, sweat, and broken heart were sold at an $8,000 loss. I spent 14 hours on Saturday looking for a new one.

Sierra will have braces. Ivy will have new dresses and pretty shoes. Dan will have a bicycle that is worth more than both our automobiles put together. Jax and Wyatt will go to a school for gifted children. (It turns out that Wyatt is a genius too, we just had to figure out how to communicate with him. Reading above grade level, photographic memory, insane skills with numbers, I've shed tears of amazement this month as I've talked with his teachers.)

I'm numb but I feel everything. I'm exhausted but I'm so wound up I can't sleep. I'm happy but I'm devastated.

It's 12:13 and I still can't sleep.

I'm moving in less than two weeks.

Everything is changing again. I will have to reinvent myself. Again. It's breathtaking and breaking me into pieces.

This is not even close to being the end.

I don't know.

2011-04-19T06:56:00.000-07:00

Endless, eternal, effervescent, and enormous questions.

Then haunt me and hunt me down daily.

What's for dinner?
I don't know.
What are we doing next Saturday at 2:00 p.m.
I don't know.
When are you going to buy me a new toy?
I don't know.
When are we going to move?
I don't know.
When is Daddy coming home?
I don't know.
When are you going to find out about that job?
I don't know.
When is the house going to sell?
I don't know.
Where are my gym clothes?
I don't know.
Why don't you buy anything we like to eat?
I don't know.
Are we going to move?
I don't know.
Are we going to stay here?
I don't know.
When are the goats going to have their babies?
I don't know.

I DON'T KNOW!!!!!

And it's killing me.

When am I actually going to get to sleep through the night? (One wet bed and one asthma attack later...)

...

I don't even get an 'I don't know'.

too late...too early

2011-04-07T21:02:00.000-07:00

it's late and almost early.

my world is spinning around me. my fingers are stiff from holding a paint brush for hours. my muscles are sore from six miles and standing on a ladder.

just when i think i can't possibly do anymore. i do.

three lights went up outside this afternoon. i stripped wires and twisted and screwed metal to plastic. my room is finished.

i scrubbed a few paint paw prints off the carpet from where Tommy walked on my freshly coated stairs.

tomorrow i'll cut glass and clean and paint some more.

by Saturday my house will be finished. just in time for the realtor to put on the market.

i still don't want to go. for the first time ever in my life i don't want to change. i don't want to run. i don't want to move.

i want to stay here and remember laying the tile in my bathroom. i want to sit on my new carpet. i want to switch on the lights and remember putting the red wire nuts on. i want to listen to the trains and lean back against the slope of my beautiful tub.

i want to milk my goats in my barn, morning light making magic with hay dust as it comes through those two new windows.

i want to see people i know in when i walk in Kroger. i want to laugh with the guys at Lowe's who always tease me about my next project.

i don't want to let the last year and thousands of dollars slip through my fingers when i walk away from this little house in this college town.

i keep trying to hold on but the tighter my grip the more it hurts.

i'm lying awake wondering why i try so hard to drive when it's so obvious i'm only a passenger.

and i have no idea where i'm going.

Birthday Birthday

2011-03-27T18:25:00.000-07:00

Two baby showers and two birthdays...in two weeks.

Ivy's was the most delightful and delicious. Ivy was born the day after my birthday. So we celebrated hers on mine it was the perfect eclipse of youth hiding the glare of getting older.

Jyl made the cupcake kitty cake. Sooooo strawberry good. (I devoured the leftovers in midnight raids for several days following.) We all sang and then the ribbons and paper gave way to a generous pile of gifts. Every 4-year-old should be so lucky.

And an update...the sweetest storm of words has been bubbling up from Ivy. The surgery seems to have solved her hearing and speech problems. Will wonders never cease?

Kiss me.

2011-03-17T04:20:00.000-07:00

Today is my favorite day.

March is my favorite month.

Green is my favorite color.

For a girl who loves kisses, attention, and the color of life this little holiday is sugar cookie sweet.

If you talked to me yesterday you should know that seven solid hours of sleep has had a dramatic effect on my muse and my mood.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

(Also, Happy Birthday Mom!)

Glow

2011-03-06T17:48:00.000-08:00

I have a friend, who tells me that I glow, it makes me happy, it makes me think of why.

This is why...

Last month, Wyatt turned 6, Jax became an official member of our church, and we found out that Ivy's speech problems are a result of inner ear fluid build-up caused by inflamed adenoids...for 2 years we've been seeing therapists and doctors and now they finally figure it out! (I could do a whole post on any one of these things...but I'm tired and she has surgery in two days and there's water in my basement...and I really need some chocolate and...anyway.)

I need some sleep so I can keep glowing.

I will let you know how it goes. March has always been my month. I hope to post more.

Belated

2011-02-26T04:15:00.000-08:00

Wyatt turned 6 this month. In my mind this party was highlighted by the yummiest chocolate cake I've managed to create so far. In his it was the plastic racetrack...the one that I now trip over constantly in the living room.

I guess I can't have my cake and eat it too.

The track suit, t-shirts, and trains were a big hit too.

Happy Birthday little boy.

Red paint and pinewood.

2011-02-15T03:55:00.000-08:00

My Jax turned 8 a few days after Christmas. Thus began the wonder and wild evenings that define cub scouts.

They happen to be the same night Sierra has her youth activities at church and the same night I help ~~babysit~~ teach the 8-11 yr-old girls. (We usually discuss the finer points of how to eat cookies and how to actually listen when an adult is speaking. Considering the fact that I have failed to teach my own children the latter, I am dubious about my ability to actually get anything through to these girls other than a large dose of sugar...but I digress.)

The pinnacle of little boy excitement is the pinewood derby. Where ~~all related male family members conspire together to relive their childhoods~~ the boys make cars out of blocks of pinewood and race them down a track.

Jax tied for 1st.

My littlest of cub scouts, with his huge blue eyes and pants that never stay up, won.

The victory is mostly thanks to the fact that grandpa had raised four boys and is a pinewood savant. I did paint the car. I do so love to paint.

For a small fry like Jax who's shied from sports for several years, it was magical. For his type-A mommy it was pretty great too. I'll have to admit winning is much more fun than honing your 'good sport' skills.

Next on the agenda...Wyatt is going to try sports...pray pray pray it goes well. I'm debating between soccer and wrestling. Both start next week so I have to decide quick and I'm only doing one. I just can't do both. Who do you think I am wonder woman or something???

(Stay tuned for posts on Wyatt's birthday and Jax's baptism...and cold pea soup. Yum.)

Up in a tree.

2011-01-31T15:51:00.000-08:00

This has been the longest blogging break I've taken since the inception of my little virtual journal.

I have no excuse.

I kept blogging through autism. Through moves. Through holidays. Through pain. Through perfect joy.

And now.

I have no excuse.

Especially now that I have a camera again. Thank you Papa.

Hunting for the tree.

2011-01-17T06:30:00.000-08:00

The great tree slayer.

The kids accessorized with cool glasses for Jax and Ivy was rocking her pink purse.

I just realized I never posted this....better late than never. I could write reams of prose on this photo of Wyatt. He is the most beautiful mystery in my life.

At night.

2011-01-11T18:00:00.000-08:00

I wake up before my alarm. Sometimes minutes. Sometimes hours. I my body is stone still, but my mind stretches and sprints ahead. Three hours of love and packed lunches and late buses later the work day begins and (for me anyway) ends too soon. In no time I'm trundling off in my mini-van to pick-up what I've just dropped off.

The cooking and cleaning and crying (mostly the kids but sometimes me) is constant. I can only do tiny half-loads of laundry because my washing machines screams and stops when I fill it too full.

It's a jolly game of sorts. I play most days with a smile and a skip. How many things can I get done today? How fast can I load the dishwasher? How far can I stretch our small spandex budget to cover two households and countless tanks of gas?

Then darkness falls. My eyelids burn with fatigue. My nerves spark like live wires. My lonely heart aches. My body tosses and turns. My mind vibrates with unused energy.

Sometimes I reach out. Most of the time there's nothing to hold on to. Other times I curl into myself and focus on the morning light that's sure to come.

Birthday dragon.

2011-01-01T06:15:00.000-08:00

Jax is the luckiest kid in the world...or at least the luckiest kid in our town...or maybe the luckiest kid on our street.

Nevermind.

The point is I gave in. I succumbed to those big blue eyes and pouty lips.

Jax turned eight on Tuesday and that frigid morning we went out to the pet store. Jax rode home with a bearded dragon tucked into the front of his coat. He was keeping 'Beardy' warm.

This docile lizard has been called many other things...'Crazy Spike'...'Muncher'...'Steve' (yeah that last one was just me).

He gobbles up crickets with his split tongue. He has endured many sticky little fingers stroking his bumpy hide. He sits in the sun with his head cocked just so.

So instead of having a dozen sugared-up eight-year-olds running around my house smearing cake on the walls I avoided the party and acquired a dragon.

Despite my reluctance. I'll have to admit. I kinda like saying I have my very own dragon. Well I guess he's Jax's...but we all know who's going to end up buying his crickets and scooping out his poo.

Happy Birthday my beautiful boy.

White Christmas

2010-12-25T09:23:00.000-08:00

This may be our last white Christmas for awhile.

I am too strung out on caffine, sugar, and pure childhood joy to write much...but I did borrow a camera...

Make-up for the pre-teen princess!!!

(That is a 'YEAH')

(I know it's not Christmas paper...but the girl loves pink.)

(See, pink legos.)

(Jax made a bowl for Daddy...I think my dad still has one I made for him in school.)

(Uncle Colt joined us for Christmas...Santa brought him cereal...Santa was very tired and on ~~her~~ his second cherry coke last night. Daddy got some too.)

Merry Christmas. I am so blessed. I couldn't ask for anything better than this morning with my family.

Also, I danced for an hour while making crepes...that was pretty awesome too. Nutella is bliss.

Going to carolina...

2010-12-22T05:26:00.000-08:00

In the topsy turvy trip that is my life right now there is something beginning to come into focus on the horizon. The southern horizon to be exact.

Dan traveled, he talked, he got some offers, turned some down and accepted one....

So without further adjectives or ado.

WE ARE MOVING TO SOUTH CAROLINA.

Yes. Move number 24.

I am sooooo excited. Sort of. Except about the selling and buying and finding new schools and filling out 4,354 pieces of paper and leaving my friends and and and...crying....ok stopping...not yet...ok now....

I was up making cookies for teachers at 5:30 this morning. No that is a lie. First I sat in the tub for 20 min in scalding hot water trying to make sense of life. Then I made the cookies.

Dan will go down January 2nd. Yes less than 2 weeks, y'all. (I have to throw that in..I'm moving to South Carolina you know.)

I will be staying here.

Six more months of single momness. (I know it's not a word. But it should be.) Because the schools here are so wonderful and the kids are so settled...and *sniff* and I can't yank my babies out into the cold winter and make them start new schools...again...so I'm staying here for 6 more months.

To finish construction on my beloved little house. To see a set of goat kids be born in the barn I helped build. To spend many long lonely nights cuddled up with the dog instead of Dan. To sell the house. (Or rent it.) To say a very long good-bye.

That's all.

Playing by myself.

2010-12-13T17:02:00.000-08:00

I'm alone in my office. I broke down and got a sitter for tonight. So I could spend 30 minutes working and 2 hours watching youtube videos, chatting with my sister, and dancing with my headphones on. I wiggled my hips and watched myself in the door glass of the office next door. I wonder what 70-year-old Dr. Vorester would say if he saw me.

I got one more person crossed off my Christmas list. Golden planes and paper dreams are headed your way sisterfruit. Remember the PanAm wings? I swear we used to have dozens of them.

I prayed in my heard and said a little 'thank you'. Christmas is not much more than a week away and I've finally caught the 'spirit'.

So I'm sitting here with soft sweatpants on in my swivel chair. It's cold outside but I've warmed up inside. Sweet melting memories are soothing my soul.

I'm going home to put my little ones to bed and snuggle my almost teenager. We'll watch Eclipse together while eating way too much chocolate.

Yummy.

Limbo

2010-12-12T18:25:00.000-08:00

Just when I though I had it figured out. Just when I thought the plan would work. Just when everything seemed to be settling down.

It all changed.

Dan is graduating on Friday. With a Master's in Statistics. He has decided not to go on to get the Ph.D.

This was very hard for me to accept. For many many reasons. That's all I can say.

I've known this information for a few weeks but have chosen to ignore it. I tried to bury my head in the sand. It's dark under there. Very very dark.

I spammed dozens of prospective employers with hubband's resume, wrote compelling cover letters, sat back and waited.

Nothing.

I saw a ray of light when the University offered him an instructor position. The ray exploded into sunshine. I would stay. I would get MY Master's MY PhD. I couldn't wait. I would stay in MY little house that I made with MY hands. For a week the plan went MY way. Then it didn't. The offer turned out to be very disappointing...and sans benefits...so he turned it down and nothing was mine anymore.

Then a call came. And interview. Then another. There are three scheduled for next week. Places like Iowa, Nebraska, South Carolina, one here in Virginia (but 3 hours away).

I thought I'd wait until things were settled to broadcast the news. But I've begun to see something. I've realized that nothing is ever 'settled'. No plan is ever going to go accordingly or go MY way. I am not in control. I can never be in control. I can beat my fists bloody on the walls of wondering and regret. It won't do any good.

So I'm going to try. Just try for today. Nothing before. Nothing after. Just today. To focus. Focus on the images too full of color to be captured. The joy more valuable than jewels.

Ivy with here bright blue eyes shining above the edge of the tub. Her wet hair plastered against her head.

Wyatt wandering into the kitchen and looking up at me with unspoiled love and trust...asking for a piece of bread.

Sierra talking back to me again. She's becoming more beautiful and bright every day. So bright in fact she thinks she knows more about life than I do.

Maybe she does.

Jax and I snuggled up in bed. I taught him to tie a square knot. I kissed his forehead and tucked him in.

Dan came home after studying for more than 12 hours straight. I lay curled up on our bed. Staring. Not really seeing anything or feeling anything. The noise of children fighting bedtime was a white roar in my ears. He rubbed my back and I felt it. Warm. It felt warm.

I'll let you know how tomorrow goes.

Stirring up Crazy

2010-12-05T17:41:00.000-08:00

Countless long evenings with endless games of pick up (toys) followed by a weekend of almost snowed in....a recipe for insanity. The wind has whipped bald the top of the rocky hill where my little brick shoebox sits. Inside aforementioned shoebox four kids, one moody mommy, and a comatose daddy are squeezed in sardine style.

We wrestled. I danced. I baked. I cleaned. I laundered endlessly. Daddy rose from the dead to fluff and fold. I baked some more. I did a few token sit-ups to off-set the overindulgence of baked goods.

Now I have to post something so the vanity shots of me are no longer on top. Just look at the ivory squirrel and be thankful that you don't have six people packed into 1,000 sq feet.

The end.

Grandma's Dress

2010-12-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

"Being 90 years old is no fun. No fun at all." Grandma said to me while I was there. Her brother passed away a few days away and it was the day of the funeral. She couldn't go. Her body couldn't handle the long drive, but she was so well aware of the fact that she was the last one left. The sorrow was as heavy on her bent shoulders as it would have been standing in the graveyard. Nine brothers and sisters, raised barefoot in a coal mining town. Helen is the last one left.

I had a dentist appointment and found myself with two extra hours before I was due for a bout of oral assault and battery. So on the day of Uncle Pap's funeral I went to Grandma's house to try and cheer her up.

We talked for a while, then it began...the fashion show. I tripped down the dreaded stairs to the basement without falling. (Grandma is terrified of stairs.) A long wire stretches the length of the basement. Garment bags, faded stiff plastic rectangles were lined up in the dim florescent light. Endless jackets with padded shoulders and bright pins are hung by the dozens. Matching knit sets clustered in groups. A few polyester pants suits.

One day she went from being a West Virginia coal miner's daughter to a devastatingly beautiful doctor's bride. But her love affair with clothes began years before that. She used to babysit her older sister's children so that her sister would sew her new clothes for school. When she married Doctor Joe, her passion for pretties became fully funded.

When I went down into the damp darkness I was hoping for something really old. Something from the 50's before polyester and plaid, before padded shoulders, before flamingo pink. Something I could wear to my semi-formal department Christmas party. I'd been looking for something to wear for weeks and the party was the next day. I'd given up hope and was planning on a boring black dress I've had for years.

Hanging alone on the wire was the red dress. I took it down and almost put it right back. I have a hard and fast wardrobe rule...no red. It clashes with my auburn tresses.

But then I thought of grandma upstairs. She loves it when I play dress-up with her clothes. Walking the carpeted runway in her living room while she exclaims over every outfit. So I grabbed the red dress along with a few others. 'I'll try it on for her, it probably wont' fit anyway.'

I can only imagine how she felt when she bought this dress sometime in the 50's. Did she stare at herself in the mirror like I did? Turning this way and that marveling at the way the red lace curved in at the waist then flared into a full skirt.

We exclaimed together when I zipped it up. The fit of the 60-year-old dress was miraculous. I stayed in the dress for a long time before trying the next one.

We went from room to room, every closet upstairs is filled with clothes too. Hats, shoes and purses are stuffed into every corner. I pulled down the hat boxes one-by-one and Grandma critiqued each hat as I placed it on my head.

I wrapped a movie-star-mink stole around my shoulders. I swung bright bags on my arm. Time flew and soon it was time for me to go. I left with my arms full of red lace and retro fur. I cherished every minute with Grandma, and felt guilty for not visiting more often.

Last night I walked into the banquet hall with glossy red lips and Grandma's red dress on. It was magic.

Thanksgiving Zoo

2010-11-27T04:24:00.000-08:00

I will always remember this year as the year of 10 children at Thanksgiving. Only 5 adults and 10 children. We were handily outnumbered from the start. However, due to the fact that I still can't bring myself to go into debt to get the camera I want...I am still without. So since Aunt Missy has all these darling zoo photos from our visit this summer still on her computer I've decide to post them. Not to say there aren't a few photos of Thanksgiving to be seen. Just not many and not that I can access at 6 am with everyone else in the house asleep.

Suffice it to say that I've had a marvelous time in this madhouse full of children. I even went completely loco and offered to watch the entire brood while the other coupled adults went out on a date last night. They took me up on the offer. I actually survived and even had fun. I haven't had a baby fall asleep on my chest for a long time. The warm sweet innocence seeped into me and soothed everything frazzled and frayed.

Just so you know the Turducken did return in all its glory. The rolls were replaced by some truly sumptuous homemade sourdough bread. Grandma Ashby's sauce was fresh and tart. Dinner was loud and messy and perfect. Thank you Carl and Missy.

Oh no. I've been discovered. One of the short people has emerged from the basement....

Over the river...and the mountains...and several state lines...

2010-11-23T04:20:00.000-08:00

We are leaving today.

I'm leaving my skinny jeans at home. Nobody needs skinny jeans on Thanksgiving. Nobody. (I will however be bringing my running shoes...can't live without them. Sorry.)

The kids and I are traveling more than six hours and almost 400 miles tonight. I have a feeling I'll be needing several caffeinated beverages to maintain consciousness.

Grandma Ashby's sauce will be there.

Lion House rolls will be there.

I don't think the Turducken will be coming this year.

My perfect pie crust will probably make an appearance...filled with pears and blueberries I think...

The kids will spend hours in the tree house out back. I may have to try out the zip line for myself.

I think Uncle Carl and Aunt Missy may have to suffer through me shaking my hips and doing a little salsa while I cook. I can't leave my latest hobby at home. (My obsessive, compulsive, and too-passionate personality forbids it.)

I have to travel 400 miles to be with people who are linked to me by something thicker than water. It will be worth every single rest-stop.

Daddy is staying at home. To study. Giving up a week in the woods for the company of a solitary carrel on campus. Only three more weeks and he'll graduate with his Master's. We will miss him and his capacity to out-eat everyone on Thanksgiving.

I am going on a 6 hour car ride with 4 kids. Alone. With. Four. Kids. I will survive.

I have to tack on an apology here. I'm sorry.

For abandoning my blog.
For sinking into myself.
For becoming heavy with heartache.

It is Thanksgiving, and I am thankful. I have more than most people will ever have. I've done things that most people will never be able to do. I have seen things that many will never see. I have loved and been loved to the point of sweet insanity.

Now the race begins. Tonight I will cross the finish line and fall into the embrace of my family.

Weaving Threads

2010-11-15T05:45:00.000-08:00

Ivy and Jax were racing down the road this morning. The tips of their noses and apples of their cheeks were blushed with cold. They were laughing without a thought for anything but the rush of running in the morning. Wyatt stood by me and held me while we waited for the bus to labor up the hill.

Last week I got out of the frosty fall air and into my sun-warmed car. I love those weeks of fall when it is cold outside but the sun warms the inside of my little civic so I feel like I am climbing into a summer afternoon. The sun soothed the throbbing in my jaw. I'd just spend 2 hours being beat up by my dentist and all I could think about was the heat coming through the windows and the last reds of fall burning on the hills around me.

I woke up Saturday morning on top of the world. Or at least on top of Virginia. The sun was rising and I could see the soft mountains flowing all around me. The kids and I stayed the weekend with my friend. She has a tall house on top of a tall mountain. The views made me stop, stare, and breathe.

This morning I was soaking in a bath at 2 am and my limbs pooled in the steaming water. I am a little too in love with my tub. I stared at the finished window trim above my head and dreamed about the days and nights I lived in that little room tiling, sanding, painting, and wrestling the beloved tub into place. All the blood sweat and tears were worth it at 2 am.

My scattered thoughts go with my scattered focus. Everything seems to have unraveled lately, but my family wraps around me and holds me together. Every so often I remember that I exist for them and they exist for me.

salmon and home sweet home

2010-11-07T16:23:00.000-08:00

thursday afternoon i loaded up a suitcase full of clothes kissed my babies good bye and climbed into my boss's bmw. we were headed to DC for two days of meetings. it was my first business trip in years...since i hung up my power suites and put on my mom jeans.

i spent four hours reclining on a leather seat listening to classical music, i don't remember the last time someone drove me somewhere. it was bliss.

i had salmon stuffed with crab, shrimp, and brie for dinner and fell into the feather pillows full and relaxed. i couldn't believe i was getting paid to sleep all by myself in a king-sized bed.

my usual day is wild and wonderful like river rapids tumbling endlessly forward. but for two days my days were simple and flowed with a slow easy current. i sat and listened and ate and ate and ate...blueberry and walnut citrus salad and creme brulee...black and white brownies...mango citrus smoothies...chicken and pesto sanwiches on foccaica bread...fresh raspberries and pineapple with a strawberry scone...

(i think my taste buds remember more about my meals than my mind does about the meetings.) by the end i was starting to wonder if i could go back to hectic days full of heartburn and teenage heartbreak.

i arrived home as the sun set on saturday night. i savored the sweet kisses from my children and dove right back into the rush of my rich life. laundry, bedtime, hugs, wrestling jammies on, brushing teeth, medicine, lotion, eye drops, and on and on and on. i had peanut butter and marshmallow fluff on wheat for dinner. it filled me up and i crawled into bed.

ivy and ice cream

2010-11-02T17:39:00.000-07:00

ivy has decided that she only likes to eat the middles of ice cream sandwiches. so i am obliged to eat the chocolate cookies which have been so carefully removed. it's a tough job but somebody's gotta do it. she was a butterfly and a lion for halloween. pretty and precocious.

my hair is so long and heavy now that it hurts to wear a ponytail when i run. so if you see pippi-longstocking jogging down the huckleberry trial with her braids flying you'll know it's me.

my 12-year-old is soon going to wear a larger sized brassiere than i do. this is really depressing. i could probably do my five mile run bra-less with no noticeable discomfort.

i'm going on my first business trip in years this weekend. two nights alone in a hotel room. i don't know how i will survive. i have a feeling the bathtub in my room will get used more than once.

i need to stop telling people how many kids i have. every time i mention the number four, jaws drop and eyes bug out as if i have just sprouted an extra head and horns. either that or i need to move back to Utah.

jax caught a juvenile spotted newt on sunday while we were exploring the creek at the bottom of the road. he identified said aquatic creature instantly. i was speechless.

wyatt is in therapy to help him manage his anxiety. i can't afford therapy for me so i'm just pilfering all the chocolate from the kid's halloween candy. we were both hiding under the covers this afternoon with a bag of m&m's. i don't think therapy is working for either of us.

dan has hair again. a factor that corrilates directly to my interest in kissing him.

sorry i've been an absent blogger. life has burried my muse in an avalanche of activity, plus i still don't have a source for my photographic addiction. my words need pictures. i think will have to succumb to the siren song of my credit card to satisfy my camera craving.

random lower-case mutterings must end. somebody is crying.

Flying saucers, highlights, and low-lights.

2010-10-20T19:29:00.000-07:00

A little too real. A fellow blogger wrote a post about getting real. Now I feel with my last post I got about a real as you can get. After all how many people do you know publish embarrassing tales of tummy trouble for the whole world to see?

But seeing how I'm in the mood to blog tonight and her post was rambling about in the cluttered back room of my mind I'm going to give it a go. A whole day of reality. The highs and lows.

6 a.m. I woke up before my alarm, again, my shoulder was searing in pain. I started moving and shoved the pain away. Shaking my daughter awake she coughed and moaned convincingly and said she was staying home. Since the entire purpose of my early rising is to get her off to school I gave in and slunk back to bed setting my alarm for 7 in hopes of catching a few more zzz's.

I couldn't sleep. I was running a hot bath when i realized the finish was pealing off my tub. Just a tiny spot...but it whispered a promise of spreading. I let myself sink into dangerous despair. "I'm never going to get this house finished if the things I just fixed 8 months ago are starting to need repair!!!!" "This is so unfair." "Why me?"

Somehow I pulled myself out of the tub and into the routine of getting everyone else ready for school. A whirlwind and two hours later I was walking to work under a rainbow umbrella bigger than a tent.

Dan had surprised me with stripy shelter when I went on about not having any on a rainy grey morning. The splash of color lifted me up and through work and a five-mile lunch time run. By afternoon I was chugging my second caffinated beverage of the day and driving to pre-school. I was obsessing about a giant zit on my jaw and forgot that I was meeting with Ivy's teacher that day.

She reminded me. And I tried to act so cool about forgetting, while mentally slamming myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand. Duh! I am the worst mom ever.

The meeting was long with forms to fill out and facts I couldn't face staring at me. I cried all the way to Wal-Mart. I considered not believing in God for a few minutes. It was 2:45 and I still had to pick up sugar so I could spend the next 3 1/2 hours making caramel for a youth event that night.

The kids came home and after hugs and 'how was your day?' I left them to their own devices while I submerged myself in caramel and sweet rolls. Baking is a constant. I didn't need to make the sweet rolls, but I wanted to. I stopped in between batches to walk Ivy and Wyatt up to the mail box to get the mail. I noticed the leaves and the beauty of my children for a few minutes before getting lost in my own maze of thought.

I did dishes and laundry and changed two poopy diapers and imagined what life will be like someday when there are no poopy diapers. Someday soon. I hope.

I fed the goats and agonized about breeding and drying off and other farm-type things for a few minutes. Ivy and Wyatt followed me outside and were having a stand off with the chickens when I came back up the hill.

With less than an hour left I stressed about the caramel getting done, and the rolls rising, and somehow decided that I needed to do my hair. Such a waste of time. Sierra was magically all better and ready to go be social. We loaded up and managed to arrive only 10 minutes late...

This post will be pages and pages long if I recount all the running I did at the youth event. I brought all the kids so they could play with their friends and I could talk to my friend (who's house the event was located at) while Sierra did the youth activities.

Highlights:
Swinging on a tire swing with Ivy while somebody pushed me as high as they could.
Watching a glowing orb fly off into space and land in the field next door. (Part of the event was launching things from a giant 'trebuchet'. Actually soooo cool.)

Lowlights:
Sierra having her emotional/social crisis and me not wanting to deal with it or be sensitive to her 12-year-old feelings.
Chasing Ivy and Wyatt around trying to keep them from getting killed by the giant 'trebuchet' or getting lost in the dark woods. I think my muscles are still in knots I was so tense. I really need a massage. Of course I always really need a massage and I can't remember the last time I actually got one.
Wyatt spilling soda all over the kitchen floor and me feeling really bad as my pregnant friend mopped it up while I wanted to dig a hole and die.
I spent so much time stressing over the kids I think I said about 10 words to my friend.

I totally skipped brushing teeth and reading scriptures tonight. But I did pick up all the toys, do the dishes, and rotated the laundry. You win some you lose some. Everybody got hugs and kisses before bed. I remembered to put Ivy's eye drops in. I didn't even feel that sad when she cried as usual...I am kind of numb at this point.

Checked Facebook for a second... or more like a few hundred seconds and now at 10:27 I have just finished blogging.

How's that for real?

Revenge Run(s)

2010-10-17T06:30:00.000-07:00

It was revenge eating. I was tired, frustrated, and irritated at the world in general and one individual in particular. Me and my mood stirred up a perfect pot of chili and dozens of homemade rolls. I haven't had chili in months...for very good reasons...but Friday night those reasons were not enough to stop me from throwing down two huge bowls chased by countless hot buttered rolls.

I knew I was in for it, I tried to head off the inevitable indigestion with a handful of anti-acids. They only delayed my body's rejection of my spicy supper.

The next morning my stomach was still rumbling painful protests. I was dragging all day. Paying the price for my perfect chili. I had one goal in mind for Saturday. A run. I needed the mental cleansing of a few miles down a leaf littered road. I expressed my fears of digestion disaster while running to my friend as we wandered through Target in the early afternoon. I'd been caught out on a winter run years before with not a restroom in sight...it was not a merry memory.

So I hesitated, worrying my stomach wasn't up to the rigors of a run. I waited until dusk before donning my shoes. Thinking I was safe from any revenge eating repercussions I headed out. (One note...I was in an unfamiliar neighborhood because I'd accompanied my hubby to a football bbq.)

Dusk turned to dark by the second mile. I was running down a dim-lit road in rough part of Roanoke when a vice gripped my gut. I kept running, searching the wooded roadside for a secluded spot to stop. Visions of snakes and unknown slippery substances chilled my clean-bathroom loving soul.

Then I saw a light up ahead. A single street light was shining down on a solitary vehicle in front of a dingy building. I thought it might be a bar just opening up for business.

I ran toward the light. Teeth (and everything else) clenched tight. I opened the door and ran inside to see a row of retro-hair dryers and a cracked linoleum floor. Two 'sistas' looked up at me with wide eyes. I guess the sight of a tall sweating redhead running into their salon at closing time was worthy of gaping at. I certainly wasn't there for a weave.

I grinned and asked if I could use the bathroom through my still-gritted teeth. One of the women tilted her head and pointed toward a narrow hallway. I sprinted to the small door with gold and black letters spelling out salvation above the door.

I emerged a few minutes later. Relieved. My smile was much more relaxed when I thanked them profusely and went out the door.

Three miles later I arrived back where I'd started, my mind and my colon completely cleansed.

Leopard Print

2010-10-14T17:27:00.000-07:00

The whole world now knows that I own a Leopard print brassire. (At least the 300 people who are friends with my husband on Facebook...might as well be the whole world.) How did this rather personal bit of information come to be disseminated to the masses you ask. Well even if you are not asking....I am going to tell you.

It was bath time. Ivy was splashing happily in the bath and I was going through my face washing ritual. The little laughing girl in the tub was having so much fun that I decided to extend my ritual to include a mud mask to exfoliate my rather tempramental skin. I was just finishing Ivy's bath and washing off my mud when Dan came home. Because of the messy mud I was only sporting my essential undergarments at the time. (My poor children are used to their mother running around in inappropriate attire, somehow I was born without the modesty gene that is expressed so profoundly in my mother's and sister's girly genome.) Anywho.

Daddy came home and suddenly at 9 p.m. at night everyone was famished. So I whipped out my spatula and stirred up some pancakes. I stood there in the kitchen still not-dressed and I happened to glance in the window. I was happily admiring the visual results of my hard work in the gym of late and my husband started laughing.

I guess the image of a grown woman...mother of four...standing in the kitchen with a leopard print bra on...while flipping caramel pancakes...is rather hysterical. An hour later a rather alarming number of people on Facebook not only knew what I was wearning, or not wearning in this case, but they also knew about my rather vain ab admiration.

So in response to my loose lipped husband, bent on heaping embarassment on his sweet wife who was making him pancakes at 9 at night, I say this. My abs look better than yours. So there!

I'm not. I'm not.

2010-10-11T15:06:00.000-07:00

The recently toned muscles in my stomach strained again and again, forcing air out of my body. Deep dry coughs came one after another. The clock said 2 am. My mind was swimming in a artificial haze of medicine, little pills swallowed in haste and washed down with a mouthful of orange-colored poision that threatened to come back up for at least 5 minutes.

I'm not sick.

It's just allergies. My body's yearly reaction to an invisible and invincible foe floating from the towering trees around me. I won't admit defeat. It's just allergies.

I'm not sick.

I stumbled into my beautiful bathtub a few hours later, beating my alarm clock's six am siren. Freckled limbs folded limply into steaming hot water, I sunk down and stared at the unfinished trim around the bathroom window. I closed my eyes and imagined it finished as I always do.

The water grew tepid and Sierra wandered in to begin her painfully slow process of getting ready for another seering day of seventh grade.

Dan left me sitting at the table eyes half open and barely able to focus on the task ahead. Two hours and three more kids to get up, get ready, and get going....not to mention a silver pail to fill with milk.

I'm not sick.

I filled my unwilling belly with hot milk and pushed my body forward. By eight the dishes were started, I had the boys on the bus and I had talked myself into slipping on my new sweater-dress and a pair of caramel sweet boots. I waved and wished my little men good bye. Ivy wrapped her legs around my waist and we walked back home to finish the dishes and find her 'pack-pack' for preschool.

I'm not sick.

At nine I had my ankles crossed under my desk at work. The perfectly caffinated Cherry Coke on my desk had my eyes open and my heart beating faster.

Fast-forward through a last-minute lunch, a work-out, pre-school pick-up, a trip to the store for mint Oreos so Wyatt doesn't feel too bad about not being able to go to Lego club with Jax, and I'm sitting here on my bed with a few minutes to blog. I've hidden my dark circles and slicked up my lips to see my friend who's stopping by from out of town.

See. I'm not sick.

(Hand me another cough drop please....and keep that nite nite Nyquil handy for 9 pm tonight. I'm going to need it...even though...)

I'm not sick.

(Earrings from the talented Patty. I adore them soooooooo.)

Hay seed.

2010-10-05T15:10:00.000-07:00

My friend picked a piece of hay out of my hair yesterday. A little bit of proud happy bubbled up inside me. I love that a slice of my life includes getting hay in my hair. Every morning last week I walked up the hill with my farm jacket zipped up and a full bucket of milk in my hand.

About an hour later I'd walk up a flight of stairs with heels on and my hair done up. The yin-yang of college town and country fits me like the tall black boots I bought this weekend. (So not farm boots.)

In surrounding the little bits of my own identity that seem to be floating to the surface lately is a hectic child-centered chaos. The route to school and back is programed into my internal GPS, if I need to go anywhere else I have to wake-up and switch off auto-piolt in order to find an alternate destination.

Along the way of this weekend Ivy got her fingers slammed in the van door. I panicked and watched as her little hand puffed up and little lines of purple appeared on her fingers. She sobbed her little heart out and my ragged heart was torn a little deeper.

Wyatt was racing his bike out front and his front tooth meet swift defeat when it went head-to head with Sierra's handlebar. Gap-toothed and bloody he walked in the house and amazed me once again with his tolerance for pain. We sat and I rocked him as he whimpered softly with a wet towel in his mouth to stem the flow of red from the place where his baby tooth had been. Five minutes later he was back on the gravel track racing toward an invisible finish line.

Sierra continues to suffer the symptoms of teen angst...and not silently. Tears, rage, and laughter can and do exist in a matter of minutes. I alternatly sooth and scold trying to walk a precarious tight-rope between reality and and her reactions to middle school life.

Jax is caught up in a wonderland of his own creation. He seeks creatures under every rock, in every river, and on the pages of everything we read. I see my past in his too-big blue eyes. Watching living creatures with an intensity that blocks out the rest of the world.

...just got the pizza outta the oven...the natives are clamoring for dinner...to be continued...

Good intentions.

2010-10-03T14:43:00.000-07:00

I have the best of intentions...desires...thoughts...but somehow instead of blogging this weekend like I wanted to, I cleaned the house. Now I'm too worn out for words. Tomorrow. I promise.

The smell of hay.

2010-09-27T03:54:00.000-07:00

For most of you just reading this post will trigger an allergic reaction. Your eyes may water. Your nose might run. The soft skin on the underside of your forearms could itch.

Thanks to the modern miracle of desentization shots I was able to lift, haul, and stack 25 bales of hay on Saturday. The kids were chasing the chickens (a favorite pastime of late) Dan was gone studying as per usual, poor Daddy. And after a few hours I was sitting in my beautiful barn with hay stacked over my head. Hay dust was swirling in the air and I watched tiny particles float into the soft streaming light.

Aquiring a barn full of hay was one of those chores that has been weiging on me for weeks. My current truck-less status makes coordination of many my farm-type chores rather frustrating. Thanks to Craigslist and a little extra cash for delivery I got my hay.

Just in time for the rain. Sunday morning I milked the goats in my hay-filled barn, blissful, smelling fresh hay and hearing the music of raindrops on the metal roof.

It's still raining. It's Monday. I am happy. I am looking forward to a damp walk to the barn to milk this morning. It's one of those days when I wish I could be just one thing for a whole day. I wish I could spend all day outside and inside my barn. I need a new hay-rack...shorter for the young goats who can't reach the big-girl one. I need to put up a trough. The goat's hooves need trimming. Tommy really needs a flea bath.

Alack and alas I will only get about 20 minutes this morning. Then I will have to change clothes and change hats...to mom taking Jax to the dentist...to editor reading a new batch of academic journal attempts...to housekeeper...to chef...to runner (hopefully)...to...well you get the idea.

How many hats will you wear today?

(Photos are old...still camera-less.)

A little exercise.

2010-09-23T16:54:00.000-07:00

Three.
Whole.
Days.

I did not eat anything with sugar in it for three days. Self- control is not one of my strong points. Somehow I survived.

Soooo much harder than you think. Fruit was the only thing that saved me. Black grapes bursting cool and sweet satisfying my craving, silky mangos sliding on my lips soothing my sugar stress, apples so crisp they cut through the crazy.

I didn't notice until today the other effects. I felt better. I was happier. I had more energy.

After a lunchtime binge on scones and peanut m&m's I found my self sliding back into my old sugar self. I decided to keep trying. I know I won't be perfect but maybe if I exercise a little more restraint I won't need to run quite so far.

After working and working-out I managed a sugar-less dinner. Now I'm going to lay my sore tired body down and go to sleep.

Sugar-free

2010-09-20T17:30:00.000-07:00

Once I went a whole year. A whole year! An entire 12 months with out eating sugar. It was a very very very long time ago.

I've just wolfed down 10 saltines slathered in butter. That golden smooth silkiness is the only thing keeping me from insanity. Butter.

A simple challenge. A three day goal. A whim that has revealed me to be a rather tall wimp. It's only been one day and I feel deprived and depraved. I can't stand it. I live on sweets. Caramel dipped apples. Homemade cinnamon rolls with gobs of creme cheese frosting and the cookies...oh the cookies...chocolate, peanut butter, oatmeal...sweet soft sin all filled with sugar.

With a little friendly inspiration I initiated the challenge. To go sugar-free for three days. Two chicken breasts, rice, milk, and a bucket of peas later I have a belly full and I'm still craving. My tounge keeps darting out to taste the sweetness of my lip gloss. I'm that far gone.

My addictive personality has a bag of chocolate chips in the freezer for daily, and sometimes hourly dipping. Those chunks of creamy Ghirardelli bliss are mocking me. I can see them without looking, hard and cold wrapped up in silver behind the frozen broccoli.

Do you think I can survive two more days?

Pandapas

2010-09-18T19:23:00.000-07:00

There's a still pond in the forest called 'Pandapas' I love saying that name. Pandapas. I could say it all day long. The word softly rippling over my tongue and past my lips. I've run at Pandapas. I've sat at Pandapas. Today we fished at Pandapas. Seven children ours plus a friend and a few cousins. Throw in an uncle a grandpa and about eight newts and some animal crackers and you've got a party.

Little feet shuffled through the rocks and the murky water. Little hands gripped fishing poles and squealed with surprise every time a little sunfish flip flopped at the end of the line. I even lent my nimble fingers to baiting the hooks.

With worms.

Live worms.

Something I vowed I'd never do. But I did. I pierced the squirming creatures and you know what? It wasn't as bad as I thought. If you can cut up a whole deer ham or change a putrescent diaper or reach into the unseen depths of the toilet to retrieve a lost toy you can bait a hook.

(Sorry about the gross. Back to reflections on the pond.)

I walked around the pond holding a Ivy's hand. She's stop to throw rocks and point at the ducks. Then I went around again with Wyatt. The dirt on his hand mixed with the fish slime on mine.

Joy and chaos were lit by perfect evening light on the surface of Pandapas Pond. I ached for a camera. I longed to live forever in the moments of peace that soothed me at the water's edge.

Before the pond there was sticky heat and lemonade at a little festival downtown. My BFF took some photos...I covet her camera so...

Washing Day

2010-09-14T09:26:00.000-07:00

I've been doing laundry all day. Tripping up and down my crumbly basement steps with baskets of color and cotton.

It's one of those perfect fall days. The air is warm but with a nip of cold to remind you that it isn't summer anymore. I've been finding excuses to go outside. I stood under the apple tree and fed bits of sweet bruised fruit to the goats. I even washed my hair in the sunshine. I took a sharp breath when the cold well-water splashed on my head. Then I watched the light shine through the water streaming down my curtain of hair.

I've great hopes of cleaning out the barn and filling it with heaven-smelling fresh hay tonight.

Last night I spent almost an hour riding around on our gifted riding mower, trimming the grass and trying to get Wyatt to laugh by going up and down the hill. The kids took turns riding on my lap. Ivy would hold the wheel, her hands next to mine and pretend to steer. Jax sat still and watched for bugs he was still recovering from his visit to the dentist earlier in the afternoon.

I'll admit I love the riding mower a little more than I should. I let the clutch out and go as fast as I can zooming around the trees and bushes in my yard with a smile. I'm almost sad lawnmowing season is coming to an end...almost.

Fall is my favorite time of year. The slow fade of summer into the drama of winter. It's full of color and flavor and simple joy.

Silver and Tar.

2010-09-09T18:09:00.000-07:00

Saturday I painted the barn roof. I cursed in my head (and maybe outloud) when the pine needles poked me in the face and sighed when the wind blew and they tickled my legs. When it was over I stood back and just looked. My body was covered with tar and silver streaks. I was worn out to the core. But when I look out the window and see that shimmer through the trees, a little bit of pride swells my rather flat chest. It's almost enough to make me forget the trauma and drama of dealing with little kids covered in tar and an almost ruined bathtub.

Yesterday I hauled three loads of stuff out the dump and Goodwill. Purging my basement and my soul. There are many van-loads to go, but the empty spaces are growing.

Today I helped hang drywall. I inhaled the smell of new carpet and brushed gypsum from my jeans. After a few hours I was giddy with hope...I could see it finished...I could imagine the end. I may get this house done yet. Work makes me happy. It's like everything tied tight inside has been undone and for now I am oh so satisfied.

Labor of Love

2010-09-07T06:16:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday Dad.

To the man who works harder than anyone I know. It's fitting that your birthday is always right around Labor Day.

I'd give anything for a big hug from you today. Nestled up with messy hair and my head on your chest. I miss you like crazy. I love you so much.

Thank you for being you and making me me. I wouldn't want it any other way.

Finding Space

2010-09-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

For about two days the spacebar on my laptop was stuck.

SoeverythingItypedlookedlike this. I thoughtaboutdoingawhole postwithwordsrunning
togetherlikeastringofbeads butdecidedthat itwasratherobnoxious and difficulttoread.

So I'm here with my fully-functioning space bar. Doing three things at once. Working. Taking a driver improvemnt course online (they time how long you spend reading each section so I'm waiting for the timer to run out.) And blogging. My first post in almost a week.

I've been runningtogetherwithoutanyspace for the last few days. School started and every emotion and every bit of my energy has been poured into getting my precious progeny prepared for learning. Reminding Sierra to shower, trying to get them to sleep, digging for matching socks in the basket, shopping for clothes so very last minute and signing an endless barrage of permission slips. At night I sink into a semi-concious state zoned out for hours unable to sleep.

Untaken photographs are etched in my memory.

Sierra's long legs and swishing skirt walking into the vast Middle School on the first day of 7th grade. How did she get so big? I remember the dimples and folds of her soft skin resting on my chest just yesterday. I remember kissing her fat cheeks last week. I remember tugging on those pink striped overalls.

My boys in matching t-shirts riding together on the big yellow bus. I followed behind and met them in their classrooms. Not content with just one send-off.

Jax all wide eyed and pouty, trying to figure out how to get out of going to school on the first day. Despite his intellect and inspired acting he still ended up in Ms. T's second grade.

Wyatt with his name on a string around his neck. Excited and saying good-bye to me with a kiss. I didn't leave at first so he kissed me again and again. Each time backing up and looking at me and saying 'Ok, bye mom. Ok bye? Ok, bye mom.'

I finally walked away with tears in my eyes.

Ivy's first day of pre-school was yesterday. She copied Wyatt's technique. I couldn't let her go. She was all 'big girl' pride with her polka-dot skirt, pale yellow t-shirt and pretty purse. I walked away and felt something rip inside me. Then I drove to work and went on.

So tomorrow I will have 3 hours. Where I don't have to work and I won't have anyone at home but me. I wish I had something more magical on my to-do list than loads of laundry to wash and a dirty barn to clean out...but I don't.

Public Institution

2010-08-26T21:28:00.000-07:00

School orientation.

Four hours and about four hundred sheets of multi-colored paper later and I need some consolation. I have officially drown in parent-teacher communication. School starts Monday. Until now there's been so much anticipation of those school hours to gift me the exhilaration of a weekday parental vacation.

Then it hit me like loaded down freight locomotion. With the light of school fluorescent illumination I see before me. A proliferation of paperwork. Documentation of every painful vaccination. Hours of mind numbing forms due for submission. My future evenings will be filled with explanation of addition, subtraction, multiplication and even capitalization. Mornings will bring the vision of a pajama-clad mommy involved in daily transportation. Fear of cancellation due to frozen precipitation. The painful teenage affliction of affection and hormonal hesitation. Institutional instruction that needs constant maternal clarification.

Pause for some important information. Did you know there are 2587 word ending in tion? Talk about disproportion.

The education of four children until legal emancipation is causing a sever case of parental exhaustion. In the next few days I may just need some de-fibrillation. Right now I'm living in a world of sleep-less desperation. I'm experiencing some hyperventilation. Will I ever make it to graduation?

Say never.

2010-08-21T18:40:00.000-07:00

I never thought Sierra would be old enough to babysit the little kids. This new found ability to exploit one's offspring for one's own selfish purposes is fabulous. A little taste of freedom that leaves me wanting more.

I never thought Wyatt would be potty trained. I mean I figured eventually. But this week his first 'official' #2 made it into the potty...and it got stuck there for 24 hours. Until we bought a toilet 'snake' to...um...get things moving again.

I never imagined a day when all the kids would be in school at the same time. August 31st from 9 am to 2 pm I will be completely free from all parental responsibility. The anticipation is killing me. I can't wait...but I am completely paralyzed.

I never thought I'd be living the student life ten years after graduating college. I go to work everyday, stone and intellect and unfettered youth surrounds me. At home we still have Top Ramen on the shelf. Daddy blends in perfectly with faces that have seen a decade less of life.

I never thought I'd see boys looking at my little girl. Sneaking up behind her at the pool to push her in. Finding any excuse to be close to her. She shed a tear this week when she found out one boy who went away for the summer isn't coming back. A heart that's just learning to ache. I am considering locking her in the basement for the next eight years. Do they still sell chastity belts? Just wondering.

Finger licking good.

2010-08-15T07:31:00.000-07:00

#1

Signature sparkles were in his eyes when I began to protest.

"No, don't. Seriously. So gross."

His sideways smile told me he took my disapproval as a dare. He reached down and picked the cheese dipped nacho chip. The one Jax had just dropped near my foot. On the bleachers. The bleachers at the race track. The dirt race track. A chip certainly covered in billions of microbes of redneck refuse, mixed with the chemical substance passing for cheese.

"Please. No. You don't. Awwww man." I looked away. I couldn't watch him chew. Then I had to turn back and watch, a culinary car wreck. Uncle Carl swallowed and flashed another crooked smile.

"I am so going to blog this." I said.

"Awesome! I'm gonna be famous." He said.

#2

Kristin whispered in my ear and I stretched my neck to peer up and over the tour bus seat backs to look. I had to search for a few seconds before I saw them. The long manicured nails were waving back and forth as the tour guide cheerily conversed with our fellow passengers. Long. Bored secretary long. Teenage prom queen long. Long long nails.

On the male tour guide. The retired male tour guide. The rather plump, ordinary looking, retired male tour guide.

I looked away, then back, then away. For two days I watched those nails from the corner of my eye. The were a malignant magnet for my motion sick attention.

Once as he made his way past and the too too long nails dug into the seat-back just inches from my face. My mental gagging produced an almost physical result.

I couldn't wait to get off that bus.

#3

Ivy walked into the living room with brownie batter on her hands.

Except I wasn't making brownies.

She had taken our potty training practice into her own hands.

I smelled the result of her efforts before I saw them. I grabbed her around the waist and held her as far away from my person as possible. When I opened the bathroom door I got the not-brownie-batter on my hand. I was disgusted until I looked at the floor.

Thick not-brownie-batter was smeared all over the floor. All over my lovely black and white tile floor. The tile floor with...the...white...grout. The toilet was smeared. The sink was swiped. It was everywhere, except in the toilet. The bowl was still pure white and the water crystal clear.

I spent 45 minutes, first cleaning the child, then on my hands and knees scrubbing not-brownie-batter from the no-longer-white grout. Windex didn't work. Bathroom cleaner bombed. Finally I resorted to a toothbrush and Comet with bleach. Each and every grout line.

I bet you want to go make brownies now. Don't you?

Waiting for pain.

2010-08-12T07:51:00.000-07:00

It was 4:47 when I opened my eyes. I laid there until my alarm rang an hour later. A train wreck of emotions sliding past on slippery rails of thought. Outside the heavy reality of rain and freight rumbled in the early morning. My adolescent rooster voiced his genetic opinion of the coming morning.

The smiling man at the front desk joked about Sierra and 'The Sierra Madre'. The idea of humor at 6:31 am took me by surprise.

I finished filling out the paper forms and signed each and every digital x on the swivel screen. My hands were tinged blue with cold. Even now with a blanket on my toes are numb. I had to answer every question the pajama clad people asked her. Vibrating with nerves Sierra couldn't manage more than a whispers and scared smiles.

It's been three hours since we arrived. She was giggling before they put the laughing gas on, happy that she'd be asleep for the IV stick. For hours I'd been playing down the burning pinch, trying to pacify her fear of pain. Her relief was silly and soothing. Dressed in a blue had and bunny suit I kissed her sleeping cheek moments ago. They lead me from the operating room through a maze of all things medical back to her room.

I'm huddled under a blanket in a vinyl chair, wondering if someone was paid to decorate this place. The colors and styles wage subdued arguments with eachother.

I can't help but remember twelve years ago when Sierra had rolls of delicious baby fat from birth and I was just out of my teens. Now her lythe limbs reach the end of the hospital bed. Everyone comments on her height, then they look at me and nod with understanding at my too long legs.

I wish I could remember everything...every moment of the last twelve years. There are too many I missed. Lost in my own melodrama. This one. This. I will remember.

Update: Doctor says it went 'perfect.' Bring on the pudding.

No big deal.

2010-08-05T07:09:00.000-07:00

Wyatt wore underwear all day yesterday. Including the six hour car trip. He went potty at the gas station and the rest stop. His darling little posterior end is unpadded.

I think this may be it. I think Wyatt may just be potty trained.

I don't want to say it too big or to loud. I might jinx it. He likes to be private about it. He doesn't want me around. But sometimes he'll come and tell me and I get sooooo happy and he smiles. He's proud of himself.

We're still working on #2. He asked for a diaper last night for that purpose. Then the underwear went back on. ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!!

Sorry. Trying not to get too excited. Must keep this on the DL.

He went this morning. Even all tired and sleepy...he remembered to go. All by himself. I didn't even ask or remind or...or...or...ANYTHING!

At first he'd only go in the potty at the pool. Don't ask me why. He didn't like other potties. Then we went to visit Uncle Carl and Aunt Missy and I ignored potty training and by some sort of mystical potty power he just figured it out.

I can't believe it. Just in time for kindergarten. I can't believe it.

I've prayed for this. I cried over this. I've worked and wondered and wiped endless times. Now without any ado at all it's here. The moment. The big deal...that's no big deal.

Wild Animals

2010-08-04T05:09:00.000-07:00

We took eight wild animals to the Cincinatti Zoo yesterday. Today we go back home. I will catch up on blogging this weekend.

State line.

2010-08-01T16:15:00.000-07:00

A Monet sky greeted me when I crossed the West Virginia state line. Four heads lolled against car seats and windows. Every bit of restless in my veins had drained out of me. I was on my way and the speed limit was much higher than back home. A few toll booths gave me pause, then I'd hit the gas with the green light and drove on.

A miracle of mountians and magic sunlight in the evening sky thrilled fingers and toes.

Six hours and a pit stop later we arrived in Kentucky. Uncle Carl and Aunt Missy met us on the welcome mat out front just before Midnight.

Nine kids and three adults slept scattered through Saturday morning sunrise. I've found perfect peace in the midst of child-intense chaos.

I had company on my morning run. My shoes hitting the road in the third state this month. I beat Uncle Carl...a fact that would have thrilled me signifigantly more when we were 9 and 12 rather than thirty-something.

We've had more adventures in two days than I have time to type. Stay tuned for more joy and blue jello.

Dollar dreams.

2010-07-28T08:05:00.000-07:00

Can we go now?
Is it time to go yet?
Please can we go?
When are we going to the Dollar Store?

Jax's loud voice buzzed in my ear. It wouldn't stop. If I looked at him I knew it would be all over. Big blue eyes looking up at me. Two sweaty dollars crumpled in his hand.

I'm ready to go now.
Can we go?
Now?
When?
How long is that?
Now?
You promised?
We're going? Really? We're going now? Really?

(My heart twisted when his eyes widened in disbelief. His new front teeth shined in a wide smile. The boys and I left two sleeping sisters nestled in my bed.)

We walked out of the store an hour later. Plastic ~~trash~~ treasures were swinging in a yellow sack on Jax's arm. I looked at the bag and I knew that I'd be throwing away it's contents in the not to distant future. Instead of a flash of irritation I found myself smiling. I soaked in my child's joy and tried to remember what it was like to have everything I've ever wanted.

Sometimes I daydream that I could go back to a moment. One of many where I chose which road. Then I lie back close my eyes and press play and I go a different way.

Thunder and pain.

2010-07-27T09:03:00.000-07:00

I'd never cried before while running. The sky was grey this morning. Thankful for a little heavenly shade I pushed myself out the door and into the last hour of morning. My mind and body resisted. A shred of will battled with tired apathy and I found myself watching my feet land one in front of the other.

Thoughts tumbled around in my head aimless as my body moved in soothing rhythm. My mind and muscles moved down familiar roads and without realizing how I got there I was sobbing three miles from home. Tears falling into the pool of sweat in the hollow of my neck. Thunder ripped open the grey sky and rain soon ran with my tears. A river ran down my ponytail and into my bra. My shoes filled with water. The road mirrored brake lights as cars slowed and passed me.

Torrents whipped out of the sky and stung my skin. My face tilted back I closed my eyes and soaked it all in. I dripped water on the floor when I walked in the house. Sierra handed me a towel.

Blood and blackberries.

2010-07-24T20:58:00.000-07:00

A few thin lines of dried blood are on my forearms, there are more on my legs. My lips are stained with bittersweet. Ivy's t-shirt is crumpled on the floor with midnight streaks down the front. She is sleeping restless beside me. The boys are tucked in and oblivious, dreaming of salamanders while I stay awake. I watched them today and their voices and laughter playing notes of rhapsody on a too hot summer day.

In the lasting heat of evening I searched the shadows of leaves for blackberries and my little ones searched an old spring for slimy life.

Memories of sun and sweet berry hunting from years past came unasked for. On the road to the lake somewhere near our house in New York. Up against the fence in my overgrown backyard garden in Utah. A lifetime and just a year ago I was in the middle of 40 acres of wild berries scavenging for fruit the bears left behind. I am in love with warm, sweet and homegrown.

Picked with stained fingertips and scratched arms, the fruit tastes sweeter than any you'd purchase under florescent lights and wrapped in plastic.

The inside of my mouth is sore from the acid of desire. I am lying here wondering why I couldn't stop with a few. Truth and fiction are tangled up in love and chased by a cruel sting.

In a quiet dark I realize my razor sharp senses cut me open to exquisite depths, again. I wonder if the rapture of feeling is worth the boundless pain.

So I'll close my eyes and imagine the kiss of blackberry cheesecake in the days to come. I'll dream my life as fiction.

Too real.

2010-07-23T20:53:00.000-07:00

Real life text messaging from my life....

Dan: I'm six stories up getting ready to climb inside a rocket.
Me: I just took out the trash.

Spilled.

2010-07-22T17:18:00.000-07:00

Water is boiling on the stove. Diego is too loud on the TV (again). Wyatt is screaming in the back room because Jax wouldn't let him play (again). I put the noodles in to cook. Ivy pulls a container of rice out of the fridge and dumps it on the couch. I clean up the noodles and then realizing I have no more rags I vault over the stupid construction zone barrier and down to the basement to get some more out of the dryer. While I'm down there I decide to rotate the laundry and end up hauling two loads of clean up and over the barrier.

Jax needs a drink. Just as I put the juice back in the fridge Ivy decides she wants one two. Then Matthew (Jax's friend who's sleeping over) and Wyatt join in. The dog needs to be let outside. Ivy needs a new diaper...and a new shirt...she spilled somebody's juice down her front. Her sippy cup is still full on the counter. What?!?

The noodles are almost mush. I hurry and drain them. The steam flushes my face. I always pretend I'm getting a facial when I make noodles. I lob a chunk of butter in the steaming pot. Cheese and salt. Four bowls. Done.

Not done. Jax didn't want cheese on his. Do over. Ivy's telling me hers are too hot. In the freezer they go. (A few minutes ago I noticed Ivy's frozen noodles when I was raiding my supply of chocolate chips and walnuts...the ones I keep on hand for cookies and nights like tonight...or every night.)

5.8 minutes later dinner is done. I didn't have a chance to get the dishes off the table before the knock at the door. Oh yeah. Visitor. Visiting me. Ivy climbs on my lap. The boys disappear out the door. Ivy climbs off my lap. I try really hard not to cry when she keeps asking me questions about how I'm doing "on my own" and "all alone" and "lonely." (Seriously don't use those kind of words with me. I can't take it.) The boys come back in. The dog goes out. The boys go out. Ivy goes out. I have to plead with them not to get wet and muddy again. They actually listen. Instead they pour chicken feed down Wyatt's pants. He comes in and takes them off in the living room. In front of my visitor. Chicken feed hits the wood floor and scatters to every corner. I lead Wyatt off the to back bedroom for a new pull-up and pants. The boys come back in. They try so hard to look innocent when I ask them about the chicken feed that I can't help but laugh. I am a little hysterical. Just a little.

I sweep up the floor. Ivy dumps water from the sink on the floor. The boys have bowls of water they are 'dipping their faces in to cool off'. My visitor hugs me and leaves. I mop the floor for the second time today.

I plead with the kids to watch a movie. Nobody wants to. Dishes. Laundry. Bedtime.

"Stay in bed."
"Yes, you have to go to bed."
"No, we can't sleep outside in a tent tonight."
"No, you can't sleep on the couch."
"No, you can't sleep with me."
"Yes, you have to go to bed."
"I don't know."
"Maybe."
"Please go to bed. Please. Pleeeeeaaaaassssseee."

The house is finally quiet. I can hear the stupid rooster in the window. No, it's not quaint. Yes, I am thinking of how good he is going to taste in a few weeks. Maybe with dumplings. Mmmmm. Dumplings.

I just love that word. Dumpling.

Good Night.

Nevermind. They are still awake. That was a good 10 min of quiet though. Bedtime round 2.

Wanna drag?

2010-07-20T18:34:00.000-07:00

Heat shimmered off the tire-black asphalt. Wyatt eyes started sparking as soon as he saw the cars.

I got another stamp in my redneck passport this weekend. Me and my minivan full of kids went to the racetrack. A platinum grandma with racing red lips ushered us into a parallel universe I'd never seen first-hand.

Overwhelmed and feeling out of place I drove around lost for a few minutes. Then I spotted my girlfriend. The kids tumbled out of the van and I couldn't help but get excited when we saw the slick stickered-up cars. One car was even missing the headlights, just like Lightening McQueen. (Yes, I know 'stickered' is not a word. But this is a post about drag racing. I think I have a little semantic flexibility.)

When I wasn't looking at the cars I couldn't help but look at my fellow spectators. Shirtless, rebel flag hats, snake tattoos on leathery bellies, weed-whacked mullets pulled into pony-tails...and that was just one guy.

Ivy clung to me and I covered her ears. I, on the other hand, loved how the deafening noise drowned out the voices in my head.

An intoxicating mix of rubber, gas, and oil hazed the air. Engines roared, tires spun, and my stomach flipped when the light turned green. In a few seconds the race was over. I exhaled and realized I'd been holding my breath. I couldn't help but wish I was driving. One car tore down the track and a high number lit-up overhead.

Flashback to sweet sixteen. The speedometer on Dad's Camry was showing a similar number as I flew by the cute boys in the hatchback trying to race me. (Honestly, Dad you don't want to know how fast I used to go on 20th East. But, in my defence, you were the one who taught me to drive a stick and straighten the curves on those twisty canyon roads.)

Back to Friday night drag racing. Make and model had were no indication on what was under the hood. Street and custom cars went head to head with pick-up trucks. The candy colored retro cars were my favorites.

Our party included melee of six kids ages eight and under laughing and playing together. At one point they were perched on the wall just a few feet from the starting line. I wished for my camera a dozen times.

The sun melted into brilliant pink across the skyline. Ivy and I danced to country music under a too-loud speaker. Wyatt discovered the joy and mystery of a skateboard.

We went home happy and the kids and I were wired up until almost midnight. Speed and second-hand adrenaline is pretty heady stuff.

Summer rain.

2010-07-19T06:40:00.000-07:00

My tires skidded on the wet road. For an instant I wasn't in control.Instinct and a steady grip on the wheel had me going in the right direction again before I could even process fear. (Don't worry...no kids in the car.)

I laughed. Without thinking. Giddy. That jolt of unexpected adrenaline woke me up.

I walked across the campus drill field to my office. Heels dangling from my fingertips and tiptoes on the wet sidewalk. I wanted to stay outside all day. I love a warm summer rain.I remember the feel of heavy wet clothes and the thrill of shivering in July from those desert summers so far gone it feels like they happened a lifetime ago.

Water and sky

2010-07-17T20:54:00.000-07:00

My camera is broken. No more photos for a while. Traveling is hard on cameras.

A dozen eggs.

2010-07-15T17:46:00.000-07:00

I went through a dozen eggs today.

The most divine omlet is sitting next to me. Salt, craked pepper, italian cheese, and a heavenly tomato-shallot-white wine salsa. It tastes just like a memory. That's how I used the last three eggs. It's the first adult meal I've had all week. The kids had fish sticks and apples...then Ivy ate about 8 oz of cheese. That little girl has been watching too much Wallace and Gromit.

Seven of the eggs went into a creamy dream of a cheesecake. I'm on hour two of creation. The chambord rasberry sauce is on the stove. The cheesecake is on stage two of baking almost ready for stage one of cooling. The masterpiece won't be perfect for about 18 hours. 3 hours for cooking another 3 for cooling and 12 more for chilling. Did you know they charge $50 for a cheesecake at the Cheesecake Factory? (Let's just say my recent visit to the restaurant inspired tonight's baking blitz.)

The first two eggs went into a pan of coconut pecan brownies. Ivy, Wyatt, and I had them for lunch. (Shhhh don't tell the Conciencious Mommy Club. I'll get kicked out for sure.) Jax is fishing with grandpa so I've promised myself I'll save at least one for him. My gut tells me that promise will get tested tonight about 11 p.m.

Other random tasty bits from today...

Ivy begged me to paint her toes today. I gave in and initiated my 3-yr-old into little girlhood with a whole new level of 'pretty'.

My little people played at the park for two whole hours. I pushed. I played. I saved Wyatt when he got stuck on top of the slide. The playground was shadeded by big leafed trees and light and little feet ran together until lunch time.

After riding around in the minivan for a few hours the kids tumbled out and ran to the back yard. I let them chase the chickens for an hour while I indulged in a pint of Ben and Jerry's (it was on sale) while leaning against my pear tree and contemplating my sad struggling garden. I only felt a little bit sorry for the chickens.

After the chickens hid from Wyatt he climbed to the top of his 'mountain.' There's still a pile of dirt left over from barn building...it's Wyatt's favorite place to play. I have a feeling he's going to grow up and play in the dirt for a living.

Surf girl

2010-07-13T15:15:00.000-07:00

The beach was rushing toward me. My body teetered upright on the surface of the board...arms out and knees bent I was standing on my first wave...for about 3 seconds. For two days of my trip down to Florida I tried to distract my restless mind by beating my body into a bloody salty pulp. I learned to surf. I picked up my teacher at a local surf shop. 'Surf Boy' was appropriately tanned and a rather talented teacher. After two days I was able to stand up for about 30 seconds and ride the wave to shore.

The waves left me breathless. Over and over I waded back out to try and catch the next wave. I'd squint into the horizon and after a while the waves started to look different to me. Some 'dumped' some 'crumbled' some curved in blue-green bliss and those were the ones I rode.

I'd slide my belly up on the board hands on my 'rails' (the sides). Surf Boy would yell 'paddle'. My arms would dip into the top of the swell and the ride would begin. The goal was to stay centered on the board and slide one knee up to my chest, plant both feet, and stand up. All in less than a second...all before the wave grabbed the tip of my board and pulled it under.

If I waited too long I'd end up with the leash tangled around my feet, my suit firmly wedged up my butt, and a mouth full of sea water. Best case scenario.

Other possibilities...a tumble in the white water without a clue which was way up. Once my hip was slammed to the sand after a spectacular fall off the board. There's still a bruise. (Wanna see?) Another time the supposedly lightweight surfboard slammed into the back of my head followed by the rest of the wave. Ow. I swallowed half the ocean on that one.

Also important to note, previously mentioned sand will remove the skin from your knees if you land on them repeatedly. Surf Boy neglected to tell me...once your knees have been rubbed raw as hamburger do not, I repeat do not, apply sunscreen. Your salty tears will mix with the sea water on your face as you dance on the hot sand all the way across the road and to the nearest fresh water shower.

Still. It was worth it. I would have gone every day if my body and my bank account could have handled the cost. The rush of surfing the swells of the ocean made me fall in love. It was just the kind of high I needed. But just like any drug, once it's gone the crash leaves you craving more.

The Beach

2010-07-12T20:10:00.000-07:00

I spent a week on a postcard. Unfortunately technology failed me and I only have a handful of photos to show for it.

Delicious sunsets. Sand between my toes. It was beautiful. Sea turtles.

I saw sea turtle nests and went to a rescue center where tiny flapping ovals swam in a shallow pool and tire-sized turtles glided in tanks nearby.

There were tall birds with long necks and even longer legs standing in still water everywhere. Birds of a feather...

I ran along the magic place where the water makes the sand smooth. My bare feet leaving prints only until the next wave washed them away.

This handsome stranger let me stay with him. There was a mango tree in his back yard. I sent a purse full of them through the x-ray machine at the airport.

Tomorrow I will tell you about surfing. Tonight I have my favorite pillow calling my name.

Ride the wave.

2010-07-10T08:59:00.000-07:00

I have 13 minutes left on my library computer time. My laptop is dead. If you want to know how I'm doing call...

In a nutshell...or seashell...

Florida.
Surfing.
Running.
Beach.
Rinse and repeat.

Otherwise I am so far down the rabbit hole that after consulting with the Mad Hatter I am pretty sure I am married to the March Hare and in love with the Cheshire Cat and I hope the Queen of Hearts wins.

I had planned on lovely blogs about palm trees and sandy skin and sunsets...those will have to come later.

Salty kisses to all.

Stung

2010-07-02T07:45:00.000-07:00

I almost didn't believe it when I saw the little insect struggling to free himself from my upper thigh. His stinger was planted deep in my swimsuit-exposed flesh. I haven't been stung since I was 5 or 6. I had begun to believe that I'd never get stung.

With a family history of bee allergies I have always been hyper-aware of the little honey-makers. We were at the pool with a wide-open watermellon and I guess it was too much for the little bee to resist. When I moved in for my 2nd (ok 5th) slice of dripping pink heaven he couldn't contain himself. I never saw him until it was too late.

I pulled out the stinger and waited and watched. Joking with my friends to find some Benedryl if I suddenly stopped breathing. It hurt like crazy. I kept walking around trying to ignore the pain. Pain doesn't like to be ignored.

To skip to the end...I didn't fall over or stop breathing. But with reflection maybe that would have been a rather poetic end.

Those allergie shots I got as a kid must still be working.

Milking in the dark.

2010-06-29T19:59:00.000-07:00

It's happened three times now. I've been caught staring at the sunset and I ended up milking the goats in the dark. The salmon sky was amazing tonight. I watched it change as I drove home from the pool. One by one my damp children fell asleep, unable to resist the soothing rhythm of the ride.

So it was mostly dark when I slipped on my boots. I was still wearing my swimsuit. Fifteen minutes of feeling my way along the walls and guessing where to aim. A smidgen of adventure and a pinch of annoying. I can imagine what it would have been like 100 years ago when farmers milked their cows by candlelight.

One of these days I'll remember to put new batteries in the lamp I put out there for dark nights. Twice a day I am forced to be a farm girl. It doesn't matter if I'm in the mood or not. Tonight I was feeling more magic than mad.

I think it had something to do with finding a chicken roosting in my bedroom window. Perched on the narrow brick ledge in the last bit of light. Thinking it was stuck I benevolently lifted it off the sill and put it in the grass. It walked around, then began flapping and scratching its way back up the wall.

I just heard wings against the screen. She's still up there.

Sunset pink.

2010-06-27T06:50:00.000-07:00

My buns were sunset pink last night. (The kind that get baked by the sun...not in the oven.) I was running in the last glowing light of the day and the similarity actually made me smile.

We spent the day at the pool (again). Splashing and screaming in the bright pale sun. I was so happy. Sweet contentment that started to seep in days ago sunk deep into my soul and I couldn't help but fall in love with everything and everyone around me. That empty place was filled to overflowing.

Sierra came home from a week at camp and met us pool side. I couldn't help the little bit of wet on my eyelashes when I hugged her. Tales of too much chocolate and changing hearts bubbled out of her as she splashed with us in the afternoon heat. I couldn't stop staring at my little girl who is on the edge of adolescence. I remember thinking I'd never get her potty trained.

Jax and Sierra turned a lovely shade of golden brown while the rest of us just got red and speckled.

Good friends felt like family and I lived in the moment. Jax has a best friend he loves and I sit back and watch their simple boy fun with wonder. Have you ever eaten warm sticky PB&J's while drying off at the side of the pool? Delicious.

After evening errands Sierra and I snuggled up and watched a movie.

The day ended with me laid out in my tub, pouring cold milk on my sunset skin. I shivered as it soothed me. And then...I slept.

Late late late confession.

2010-06-24T22:16:00.000-07:00

It's 1:06 am. I'm still awake. I haven't slept more than three consecutive hours in four days.

So here I am a little loopy. And um, rather happy. Strange. A little left over runner's high I think.

I wonder if I'll post this. ~~I doubt it.~~ Probably will.

Today I cried, I ran, I ate a dozen cookies.

I slammed my thumb in the van door. This made for quite painful goat milking. There were teeth grinding and a few whimpers through the 20 minutes of ~~hell~~ milking. Also impossible without a right thumb...texting. I didn't even realize I texted so much...until it hurt when I did it. So I stopped.

I got the van vacuumed out...thus the smashed digit. There's a red line on my palm like Ivy drew on me with red marker. I bet it will be purple in a day or two.

So since it's Friday now and since Friday seems to be the universal blog day to confess things. I am going to do some confessing. (I don't know who made that up. Some blog cultural phenomenon. I wonder if anyone is doing an anthropological study on blog culture. Maybe I should do one? Mmmm.) Back to the confessions.

I let Ivy eat hot dogs right out of the fridge when ever she wants. Cold and naked. She loves them.

I have decided that going swimming can count for bathing the kids at least ~~once~~ twice a week.

I don't remember the last time I ate something that didn't have sugar in it or butter on it.

I don't remember the last time I actually sat down to eat something. (I do remember laying in bed while eating previously mentioned cookies though....)

I made Jax sleep with Ivy tonight because I just couldn't take the flailing pinwheel of death anymore. Poor kid just got up and asked if he could sleep alone in his bed.

I really hate chickens. Those pointy beaks and the wrinkly skin around their eyes. They are like feathered old women. They tilt their heads and stare at me when I go out to the barn. Freaks me out.

Sometimes when I am cleaning up I throw things away just because I am too tired/frustrated to actually put them away. But I can't stand to look at them on the floor/counter/bed any longer.

I've given up trying to make my kids eat vegetables for the summer.

I just spent a a rather large sum of money on a swimsuit with padding in the right places so I didn't look like a 12-yr-old at the pool. Vain and neurotic...lovely combination right?

I got a speeding ticket a few weeks ago. I tried to to the big blue eyes thing on the officer...it's always worked in the past. It didn't work. Serious blow to my ego.

I like this confessing. I think I'll do it again...and soon. Better try and sleep now. There is a digital pile of ~~mind-numbing~~ interesting academic papers I have to read in the morning. Must be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for that bit of excitement.

Fireflies and fear.

2010-06-23T07:59:00.000-07:00

Jax and Wyatt were playing ‘Drive-Thru’. Wyatt would stand at the window and hand grass ‘fries’ to Jax. Every time Jax came through with a new order Wyatt would dissolve into fits of laughter.
It was cute until the bugs started coming in and all the cold air started going out. So I closed the window and looked for the lock. It wasn’t there.

A few weeks ago when the AC failed me for a few days we removed the storm windows so I could get a little air in the house. The front window is huge and heavy. I thought I could put it back myself. I tried. I failed. It was ok...I reasoned...I'll just call Contractor Doug and have him help me fix it later. The basement door has had a glass panel busted out for a month...so what if the window won't lock...I'm safe up here on my hill top. It will be fine.

I ended last night's game of 'Drive-Thru' and the boys chased fireflies until they were tired. Have you ever seen the joy on a little boy's face when it's lit up by firefly light?

I tucked them in and was feeling good when I drifted off to sleep.

All that green glowing happy feeling was gone at 2 am this morning I was lying in bed with Ivy’s small strong feet pushing against me. It was round five in our game of ‘musical beds’ (she wakes up screaming, I calm her down, she goes back to sleep, she wakes up screaming and runs into my room, I let her sleep with me and sneak off to sleep in Sierra’s bed, she wakes up screaming and runs back into her room and climbs into Sierra’s bed with me, I wait until she’s asleep and tiptoe back to my bed, she wakes up screaming…….) I had finally admitted defeat.

My body ached from the inside out and I found myself on my knees searching for solace. The pain and frustration were so overwhelming I didn’t realize that the sounds I was hearing weren’t coming from inside the house at first.

Fear sliced through the fatigue and I stood still and listened. I swear they were footsteps. Not hooves in the grass. Not the rustle of rabbit feet. Not even the whisper of cat paws. Heavy footsteps on the gravel…then soft in the grass. Then they stopped.

I was paralyzed and wide awake…wishing I’d followed through on my idea to invest in a gun. I hate violence. But in that moment I wished for something solid in my hand.

I felt like there was a sign on my front lawn..."Rapists come on in. You can choose the window or the door."

Everything was quiet for a long long time. I heard one more crunch on the gravel. Then nothing. I was still awake when the sky turned from black to grey.

I realized I was trembling when I put my boots on to go milk the goats. Everything outside looked fine. It was like I was dreaming…but the annoyed maaa of my goat Isis does not exist in my dreams.

I thought I'd be fine once I got going. Breakfast...dishes...laundry...pick-up toys I was too tired to pick up last night...close the boy's bedroom and pretend it's clean...get everyone dressed...get in the van....drop off kids...drive to work...

I made a phone call hoping that the connection would help...it did. But I am still shaking...maybe it's all in my head...maybe I have an overactive imagination...maybe.

The window will be fixed tomorrow, but I think something inside me is a little more broken than it was before.

POST EDIT:
As several of my readers have mentioned it was probably a bear. I am feeling rather foolish now with all my worry. I didn't even think of a bear. Virginia has these shy little black bears that barely register on my fear meter. I am used to the idea of giant grizzlies or mountain lions tearing into my tent in the mountains of Utah. These berry-eating fuzzballs of Virginia are dangerous for sure but honestly if I would have guessed it was a black bear I probably would have slipped right back to sleep. Woe is me and my imagination.

Hold on.

2010-06-22T14:10:00.000-07:00

Sierra is off to camp, she'll be back on Saturday for a few days then she's off to Utah for a month. I didn't realized I was leaning on her until she was gone.

Underneath that perpetual pout and inevitable insecurity she has been strong for me. Strong enough to keep me standing when everything feels like it's crumbling. I didn't realize I was depending on my 12-year-old to get me through the empty evenings and eternal heartache. I am trembling under the weight every day. I haven't given her credit for holding up her end.

Happy Father's Day

2010-06-20T17:12:00.000-07:00

To the man who gave me life...

And to the man who gave me life...

I love you. Happy Father's Day.

Scrambled eggs and dreams

2010-06-18T19:02:00.000-07:00

I thought I was awake. The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon was coming from an open kitchen window. I was on the deck of a cabin at the edge of a glacier-blue lake high in the mountains. Someone was cooking me breakfast. I was wrapped up in a blanket and I felt my cheeks blush with the cool morning air.

It was so real I could feel it, taste it, and hear every word. I've never had a dream quite like it. Almost like a promise or maybe a possibility.

I'd just taken a bite of those perfect scrambled eggs when the reality of six a.m. set in.

I didn't get a chance to finish my breakfast. The ones someone else made for me.

I opened my eyes. The air was humid and foggy instead of crisp and clear. My body was sluggish and sore from wrestling with nine goats in the dark barn the night before. We stayed at the pool too long...I couldn't drag my kids or myself away from swimming and splashing even after the sun set. So a tired evening turned to night as I took care of my animals and the ones visiting for the weekend.

As the dream world evaporated and I pulled on my boots and stomped down to the barn. I wanted to go back to sleep.

The night dream visited me all day. Staying in the insulated attic of my mind while I worked and played and cooked and cleaned on the main floor.

It wasn't until my feet were hitting the black top in a sunset run that I realized. It's up to me. I've been given a choice. The same choice I've been given over and over again throughout my life. Everything I want can be mine.

If I really want it.

The question is...do I really want it? Am I willing to fight for it? Am I willing to wait for it?

Yes...no...yes...no...yes...The daisy petals are falling one by one and the decision is up to me.

Water Babies

2010-06-16T03:38:00.000-07:00

There are freckles popping out all over. The bridge of Wyatt's nose is positively spotted. My pale shoulders are warm and sun kissed. Despite my best efforts with sunscreen application there are roses on everyone's cheeks tonight.

We've joined golf club...not to golf (though I'm tempted to learn)...but to go to the pool. There's a photo of me when I was just a few months old with fire red hair floating in artificial aqua water. I have passed down the water gene to every one of my little guppies. We've spent almost every afternoon at the pool since school let out last week.

I watched in awe today as they all bobbed up and down in the bleach blue water for almost four hours and I still had to drag them away kicking and screaming for more.

I borrowed my friend's recipe for summer kid contentment.

A few hours at the pool.
A bag of snacks.
A box of CapriSun.
A long drive home.
Dinner.
And a movie.

Lights out at 8 o'clock. Bliss. Pure bliss.

Summer swimming sponsored by Papa. Thank you.

Zero to Sixty

2010-06-15T07:10:00.000-07:00

My friend keeps calling me Danica Patrick. Labeling me more for the the speed at which I handle life rather than the velocity of my minivan. Gas pedal passion and my racing heart keeps me on a fast track even when I am traveling on a winding country road. I've given up on changing, instead I just shift down when I have to, never quite stopping.

By coincidence I have been meditating on a few material rather than metaphorical vehicles lately. So a new set of wheels was rolling in the back of my mind when I picked up the July issue of Car and Driver at the doctor's office yesterday.

The familiar headlights of my motorized muse, the Porsche 911 were sparkling on the cover. In the forty minutes that I waited with Sierra I burned through several articles on super and sports cars. You wouldn't think that prose and horse power would sound good together but somehow the writers made it happen and I was impressed.

When I saw 'Steinbeck' in the title of the next article my mind accelerated with interest. The author took me on a road trip that was gritty and fast. He injected gripping quotes into driving description with ease. I'm almost scared to post my favorite...please don't be offended. It's Steinbeck. You've read Steinbeck. Right? In High School? Remember?

'In Cannery Row, he wrote, “Two generations of Americans knew more about the Ford coil than the clitoris, about the planetary system of gears than the solar system of stars.”'

Why do we put so much stock in our mode of transportation? The pedigree, the power, and the pretty color usually coming before purpose. These metal machines reflect our personalities and personal views. It's no wonder I have two favorites rather than just one.

The Porsche is fast and forign and usually unique on the road. It's a sophisticated thrill seeker.

My other favorite might suprise you. (I couldn't find a photo of one in the particular shade of green I want, but you get the idea.) An old International pick up. They are rare but reliable and they leave a mark on your soul long after they've driven off into the sunset. I've been wanting a truck for a long time. Being a goat girl and all I need one, for hauling livestock and lumber, for fixing things and most of all for fun. Every time I've fallen in love I've been piled up in a pick up.

Fly

2010-06-13T15:21:00.000-07:00

I hugged Ivy tonight. Her little arms wrapped around my neck like she never wanted to let go of me. My heart took off, flying high on the power of her love.

I took two days off. I hung up my super mom cape and tried to re-fuel. I cleaned. I painted. shopped. I ran. I tried to sleep. I shoved large pieces of furniture around my living room. I spent my hours like currency, expecting the most for my money.

But by the second day I missed them. I day dreamed about splashing in the pool with Jax flapping my sea turtle fins while he wrapped his jelly fish tentacles around me. I caught myself staring in the rear view mirror at the empty car seats.

Every week that goes by I grow stronger. I find more joy in myself and in being on my own. I thought I needed a break. I thought I needed time off from my responsibilities to recharge. I was right and I was wrong. Maybe I needed a break but I discovered I am stronger when they are with me. Their supernatural faith in me pushes me to new heights.

My silver mini-van rocketed us to our home world. Where goats graze and chickens chase bugs in the grass. Where legos are scattered to the four corners of our little brick ranch. Where we have pancakes for dinner and plastic light sabers clash from breakfast until bed time. Where mommy has a hammer and power drill on her dresser next to her new earrings.

There are Cherrios on the floor I just mopped. Ivy is dealing out a bag of new pull-ups on my bed to a crew of imaginary card players. I'd rather have a house that's a little cluttered and filled with joy than one that's clean and empty.

I do have super powers, and I know where they come from.

Minty and fresh.

2010-06-09T20:09:00.000-07:00

The taste of smooth mint fresh and cool on my tongue. I haven't been with out it for the past four months...or really for the past few decades. Even through the roughest construction. In the midst of the cacophony of tools and torn-out walls there was always a bag of mints willing to cleanse my all too sensitive pallet.

(Unrelated photos of Sierra and a friend mugging on photo booth.)

My love affair with mints began as a self-conscious obsession. When hormones and heightened self-awareness collided to create the foundation for years of future sneaky self-breathalyzing I became addicted to minty freshness.

I realized something today.

I am minty.

I am fresh.

I am still me.

The me who loves mints. My tongue was wet and tingling and my whole body woke up. I didn't realize I'd gone numb.

I found myself day dreaming about digging fence post holes and planning projects. I read a cookbook and my mouth watered. I started imagining a list of things I wanted to do. I wanted to do.

I didn't get frustrated when I had to wait for an hour at the doctor. I didn't get mad when I had to chase Ivy down over and over again to keep her from playing with an old lady's crocheting yarn.

Guess what?

Sierra may have to get her tonsils out. My first thought was, 'good thing we have insurance for her'. My second thought was, 'too bad they don't make jello-pops anymore'. I think I ate at least a hundred of those velvety smooth treats when I had my tonsils out. I actually remembered getting my tonsils out fondly! I even remember liking the lemon smell of the anesthetic.

Seriously!

Dinner, milking goats, playing with kids, jammies, an episode of Clone Wars, and a blissful run. For the first time in a while I ran to remember instead of racing to forget.

There were crickets humming in the grass. There was a glowing pink sunset. My children's smiles lit up my evening. I saw them. I opened my eyes. For a few hours I wasn't numb.

Someone said something to me and it sunk in. The words that were spoken are still in my ears and the unspoken patched up my heart. Patches can last a long long time.

Tomorrow I am going to wake up and go buy a new bag of mints and my day is going to be fresh and tasty. I just know it.

Laughing at life.

2010-06-07T12:11:00.000-07:00

Just when I though my life couldn't possibly get more complicated...it did. Instead of crying. I laughed.

I need a flashlight.

2010-06-06T18:26:00.000-07:00

I have a map. I have a compass. I have supplies. I should be alright. I should be forging ahead. But despite my planning, my preparation, my penchant for useless alliteration...the path ahead isn't clear.

I feel like I am stumbling around in the dark. My shins are bloody from where I've fallen. My face is scratched from unseen branches. My ankle is twisted from where I stepped in a hole...it's swelling. Every night I lay down beaten and broken and praying for oblivion.

Then dawn drags me up and I start down the path again. Some days there is some light filtering down through the trees...others the storms rage and day light is no different than dark night. Still I keep going. I just can't stop. I want to. I try to. I can't. A little part of me won't. It's part of who I am.

(You are right.) When all else fails I can look back and see that I came a little further today.

And just to make things a bit more confusing I'll toss out another metaphor.

I took stock of my insecurities and realized my personal portfolio is unbalanced. The little bit of self-worth I have is invested in things that don't matter. After a lengthy decline in overall value the market crashed and I had to learn again a lesson I thought I had learned years ago.

(insert here a completely unrelated photo that doesn't even go with the disjointed metaphors...but there's pretty light here...)

Sun rise is coming. As much as I don't want to think about it tonight, I'll get up in the morning. I'll clean my wounds and hope that the day brings more healing than hurt. Maybe tomorrow I'll find my way. I can't stop hoping.

One more thing. If you have an extra flashlight would you mind shining your light over here. I could use a little illumination.

Broken down.

2010-06-06T04:16:00.000-07:00

I thought I could count on it. It was the one thing that I didn't have to worry about. The new heat pump. The one thing that would work when nothing else would. The one thing that would be there to make me feel warm or make me cool down. It had soothed me so much the last four months as everything else turned upside down and inside out. The glowing touch screen of my thermostat was friendly and dependable.

I came home after a Saturday night run for dog food and walked into a steamy house. It was 85 degrees inside.

The kids had woken up and were hot and tired. I had been standing at the edge of the sinking sand before I even got home and the heat and despair pulled me under.

I am so weak right now. Every plan. Every goal. Every action. Once again I've missed the mark.

The one thing I thought I could count on has failed. I'm not a genius. I staggered around to the back of the house and re-set the breaker. I looked for loose wires. I don't know what I'm doing.

I tried. I failed. My little brick house that I love so much doesn't seem to love me back.

The irony of all this. I can't even open a window. All the windows in my house are sealed shut from the outside. I'm trapped here. Bricked in solid.

How was your day?

2010-06-05T04:24:00.000-07:00

How was your day?

I was up too early again. There was something in my boot when I put it on but I was too tired to take it off again and find out what it was. The goat's ears flopped behind them as they ran to the barn to be milked. I tried to love the chickens and failed...stupid pointy beaks. Doing the dishes...waking up Sierra...picking up toys...waking up Sierra again...giving in and letting her sleep an extra hour. Waking up the boys...

How was your day?

My body was stiff when I went walking with the girls from Church. The chit chat washed over me and filled up the warm morning. Honeysuckle was heavy in the air and I wanted to sink into the pressing scent and sleep for a few months. Instead I kept putting one foot in front of the other.

How was your day?

My skin was slick with sunscreen. I had hauled the mower up from the barn. I steeled myself for a few hours of mowing the grass...I had no idea it would take a few days...I pushed. I pulled. I started it. Over and over and over. I went for more gas. It spilled in the van. I hate the smell of gas. I pushed. I pulled. I made a desperate call for help. I hated myself for being so helpless. Ivy watched me from the front stoop. I gave in and hauled the other mower up from the barn. Four hours later I gave up and went inside to make an enormous berry cobbler.

How was your day?

I knelt on the floor at my friend's table...a combined total of eight children were occupying all the seats. I ate corn. I cleaned up a spilled drink. I ate tender ribs. I got another roll for Jax. I sucked on watermelon. I found a sippy cup for Ivy. I smeared butter on another roll. I started to throw away finished plates. I was full when I started in on the cobbler. (Chaos is almost cheerful when you have someone to share it with. Thanks Susan.)

How was your day?

Two hours of a cinematic sandstorm scoured away most of my ragged emotions. The boy lost the girl then they turned back time and the boy got the girl. My children were still alive when we got home from the movie. I fell asleep too full and too empty.

This morning I was up too early...again.

How was your day?

Release the hounds.

2010-06-02T19:54:00.000-07:00

I was running in a wet heat this afternoon. The black top shimmered. Just before the railroad tracks I heard barking. I sped up hoping to avoid any canine interaction, but he caught up with me. The little pug followed me for a quarter mile.

Hey buddy. I know. I'm a tough girl to catch. I'm even harder to keep up with. You'll find someone better. I promise.

That's right. Just sit down and watch me go. Most guys like that view best anyway.

Catch you on the way home.

It seems like every house on my country road is guarded by some breed of hound. Most of the loud ones with scary teeth are behind fences.

You are dripping saliva on the wood.

Careful your studded collar may catch on the top of the chain link. I really wouldn't recommend jumping. Really. Stay over there.

Ok. Ok. We're good. Right?

I'm past the property line.

See? We're good.

Most just want to be friends.

Hey.

Yeah. I'm fine.

You?

Really? A new bone. Aren't you lucky?

Ok then. Bye.

Then I saw them. A poodle and a chihuahua tearing across the lawn.

Hey guys you're a little on the small side but I'm game, wanna race? I bet I'll win.

Um, that's kind of loud and your tone is a little bit on the crazy/angry side. Can you turn the volume down a bit?

Ooo watch out I might step on you.

Wait. Are you trying to bite me?

What the crap? That hurts.

Ow.

Stop it. Seriously. STOP IT!

Stupid dogs. Where is your owner?

Why are you still following me?

I AM SO NOT GOING TO AVOID STEPPING ON YOU ANY MORE!

Why aren't you giving up? Are you possessed?

WHY AREN'T YOU TIRED YET? WAS YOUR GRANDMA A GREYHOUND?

Your bug eyes are turning red. You've got to be getting tired.

A second wind? Seriously!!!!!

I really want to kick you into the bushes right now.

OWWWWWWWW!

Get away from me.

Stupid stalker dogs.

I wonder if I'll need a rabies shot. OW!!!!!

Ha I'm gaining on you.

(Finally. I must be getting slow.)

I told you I'd beat you!

Suckers!

Ow. That still hurts. Did you draw blood? Maybe I need to re-think my no-cruelty-to-animals policy.

DID YOU SNAG MY NEW RUNNING SHOES?

I am so turning around and kicking your minuscule dog butts!

Ow.

Count to 10 Carolyn. Just count to ten.

1-2-3

It still hurts.

4-5-6

I really hate chihuahuas.

7-8-9

I wonder if this will make a good blog post?

10.

Wow an 8 min. mile. Not bad, not bad at all.

I'm not going to tell anyone that I was scared by a poodle with a bad fro.

Nope.

Not going to tell.

Sleepless

2010-06-01T07:03:00.000-07:00

These are my tired eyes.

I sank deep into the hot water last night and I couldn't stop thinking. Still damp in places, I slipped into bed and listened to the washer in the basement...on spin cycle. The sheets stuck to me.

Alone in the center of my bed I piled pillows around and on top of my body hoping to smother longing and sink into sleep. The cheesecake I only half-finished an hour before sat in my stomach. Even silky sweetness did nothing to soothe me. My limbs were restless despite my best efforts to drain them of energy with a long twilight run.

A day of smiles and sighs trickled through my fading consciousness and I wanted to share it...the beauty...the best moments...

When Sierra cleaned the clutter from the living room floor...before I asked her too.
When the words 'I love you, Mom' were the last thing Jax said before he closed his eyes.
When Ivy actually stayed in bed the first time I put her down, clutching 'Roo' and 'Monkey.'
When I spread lip balm on Wyatt's chapped mouth as he slept.

Everything aches for your touch...my soul...my skin...

I've tried distraction. I've grasped at focus. I've slowed down. I've sped up. Happiness flows around and through the invisible hole inside but there is a new empty space that won't fill up.

Where is a dentist when you need him? To stab me with a long needle and make that spot that hurts numb. Everything else is fine. I just need a local anesthetic.

Crying in the night.

2010-05-31T07:07:00.000-07:00

Once, twice, sometimes more often, Ivy wakes me in the middle of the night. She is sobbing like her little soul is mortally wounded. I stumble in to comfort her. Many times she won't be soothed, no matter what I say or do, the only thing that quiets her screams is to have her small warm hands clasped around my neck. To feel my pulse. To feel my unconscious love flowing from my beating heart.

In addition to the screaming waking me countless times I remember Jax's voice whispering in my ear. "I need help mommy. My tummy hurts."

There is a foggy memory of my reply, weary instruction to go sit on the potty. A half-hour before the alarm rang I gave in and got up. Unglamorous farm chores first irritated then soothed me. The trains rumbled and I stumbled around in the grey pink morning light. Dew wet grass brushed my bare legs and I shivered awake to another day.

With the extra time I pushed through a few extra chores. The chickens got moved out of the basement and into the barn. I began looking forward to my day. To the computer and the cherry coke at work. To running sometime in the twilight tonight.

I lingered over my boys this morning before I woke them...smelling their sour-sweet morning breath...and stroking their skin. I stood and watched them eat their breakfast, feasting on their innocence. It made me strong and thankful.

My hair is wound up on my head and the slippery fabric of a new dress is caressing my legs under my desk. I love the days when I remember to let go. When I remember to open my eyes and see my priceless treasures. After the rain and the pain and the sleepless nights the sun always comes out. Always.

Bounce...again.

2010-05-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

I love this commercial. I've probably watched it 100 times. I know you've seen it, but watch it again for me. It just makes me happy. My last post I was smooth sailing despite rough seas. Yesterday the seas got even higher. For a second I didn't think I could manage. I didn't think I could bounce back. But somehow I woke up this morning ready. At 4 am wide awake and ready.

Ready to get Sierra ready for her field trip and get her to school before 6. Ready to wake up all the little kids early and pile them in the car to take Sierra. Ready to go to work and read alone to the sound of humming fluorescent lights. Ready to milk the goats and do laundry and pick up 1,000 things that somehow accumulated on the floors in less than 12 hours.

I woke up ready to face today. Do your worst I say!

Flat tire? Bring it!

Double ginormous poopy diapers 2 minutes before we have to be in the car to catch the bus? Come on! I am the wet wipe wizard.

Early release from school and a gazillion things coordinate in a single hour's time? Yeeeeaaaaah baby!

I can bounce back from anything. Disappointment. Distraction. Devastation. Even a bad dream. Anything. Count on it.

(I didn't realize the version I just posted had the wrong song!!! This one. Listen to this one. (See how well I bounce?) And yes I did just do that with the parenthesis. Ha!)

Bounce

2010-05-28T07:14:00.000-07:00

Smooth and sweet.

2010-05-26T07:49:00.000-07:00

The day after Dan left was grey. It rained and rained. I cried and cried. Somehow the combination of emotional trauma inflicted on me and the physical trauma I inflicted upon myself...(see Saturday night 2-hour run)...created a sobbing, shaking, and soaking wet mess.

Monday morning I woke up a little lighter...and it just got better and better. By afternoon I was floating somewhere high above the grey clouds. I was lit up from the inside out.

I rocked my first day as a single-working-mom. Dishes were done, beds were made, laundry was down to a small mole-hill. The peace and quiet in my window-less office was zen... I even found a machine in the basement of my building that dispensed cherry coke and courage.

I went home from work rested...and went to work! I hauled wood. I pitched hay. I dealt with some ugly teen-age chickens. Then there was more.

I poured love and sugar into a caramel cheesecake. I slow cooked some spicy bbq.

Life rewound to a place months ago when I was glowing and giddy...to when I was surrounded by snow and sledgehammers. I turned up the volume and listened to the music of then and started playing a new song of now.

My life is so good. There is love in those blue blue eyes.

Love and joy and a barn with a tin roof.
Peace and contentment and cheesecake.
Laughter and long lunch breaks.
Sweetness and a steamy hot bath at the end of the day. (I am still in love with my tub.)

Everyone gets pulled down, but now I'm back. I'm back up and I'm going to stay here. (I really like the view.)

In my shoes.

2010-05-23T10:16:00.000-07:00

Ivy is obsessed with my shoes lately. Boots and heels alike. She shuffles and clomps her way through the house and I smile. This is the last little one who will wear my shoes and want to be me. I hope she foregoes following in my footsteps and heads for a easier road than I have traveled.

Peace is seeping into the hole that Dan left. I feel lighter. It helps that my running shoes had some wild miles put on them Saturday night. I left the road and took to the trails.

Florida farewell.

2010-05-22T10:16:00.000-07:00

I was the only one who cried. Wait I take that back. In the final light saber battle Jax cried too, because Wyatt landed a blow to his pinky finger that drew a speck of blood.

Trusty is on his way to Florida with Dan at the wheel. The the bikes and fishing equipment out-weighed the clothes. I can't believe he's gone.

The kids ran after the car at the last second, coming up from the house to chase his tail lights. Ivy is getting too good at saying good bye to her Daddy.

She is sitting on my chest right now and I can barely feel her weight. Everything that was spinning is still now. I want to hide under the covers. I can't. I can't hold still.

Life is pulling me forward even though I want to stay somewhere far behind.

Good bye. I love you. Good bye.

The smell and the sound

2010-05-18T16:30:00.000-07:00

The smell and the sound...of rain. Two of my favorite things.

For days now I've been waking to misty mornings.

The grass wets the bottoms of my pajamas as I walk down to the barn. The smell of new wood and rain soothe me as I sit on the edge of my milk stand. I never get tired of staring up at the beams of my barn roof. I can't believe just a few weeks ago I watched them go up. Now rain sings on the tin roof. A train whistle blows. The pine needles brush the window panes. The soft magic of recent memory tingles along my skin.

The goat kids leap infront of and behind me as I carry the milk back up to the house. No matter how tired or sore I am they never fail to make me smile.

Taking out the trash.

2010-05-17T18:22:00.000-07:00

I tilted my face up after I tied my running shoes, the sky looked as troubled as my soul, angry grey clouds framed with jealous green trees. Fear held me still as I considered the twinge of pain in my sprained ankle.

The wrenching ache in my heart pushed me onto the gravel road. I could stand the pain in my body I couldn't take the hurt of my torn spirit.

In a few miles I forgot my ankle. A few more and my heart was beating so strong I couldn't feel the ache any more. A few more and the wind was rushing in my face tiny drops of rain stinging my skin. I sprinted the last mile home.

Today I ran to the dump. Literally. Every week I have to drive along a climbing country road with a mini-van full of trash to the dump. Today I ran there and back. About 8 miles. My longest run in 10 years. It took that many miles to make me love my life again. To make me feel the warmth in my children's smiles. To make me grateful for my house on the hill. To fill me up to the brim so that I can keep giving.

If you are among the people I call when I'm tired, whiny, depressed, and/or restless you need to say just one thing to me. "Did you run today?" Just that. Then I will take myself and my trash down the road and leave it all behind.

I came in out of the rain. The laundry and dishes were still there. The house was littered with kid debris. Somehow I had what I needed to face the hours until bedtime. I cooked. I washed. I folded. I milked. I referred a few fights. I cleaned out the chicken pen. I brushed everybody's teeth. I read scriptures. I prayed. I snuggled.

I even blogged.

I'm laying here with ice on my ankle and warmth in my heart.

I may even have enough left over to fix that grout around the kitchen sink.

Dan leaves in just a week. It feels like he's been gone for months. I keep telling myself I can do it. But I need a little help. Please keep reminding me to run. Please.

Girl's Night Out

2010-05-15T05:43:00.000-07:00

The boys went camping. I bought the hot dogs and the marshmallows and loaded up the van. Daddy took a break from his endless studying and hauled my two little men to the woods.

So what do the girls do when the boys are away? We go shopping.

Sierra, Ivy, and I shopped until my feet were sore and my wallet was empty. Sierra had a stack of birthday cash to burn and it went up in flames.

We dragged the main street in our medium-sized town with lemonades in our laps and a trunk full of clearance rack finds. Ivy would yell 'race, let's race' at every stop light. Trusty did his best to thrill my three-year-old speed demon.

The 'racing' was my favorite part. I've found that shopping therapy no-longer juices me up like it did when I was young and every big tip turned into a new t-shirt. The light would turn green I'd hit the gas and fly through the gears as if Trusty was a camero instead of a civic. Don't worry we all had seat-belts on.

Shopping and spending until I was achy and annoyed didn't sound fun at first. I would have picked a night in the woods. A run in the dark. A ride on a curvy canyon road in an old international pick-up. (I am obsessing over an old pick-up right now. Every country girl needs a truck and all I have is a mini-van. I want a truck! Anyway...)

But Sierra shimmered with shopping satisfaction and I basked in her glow.

I even sat through an entire mundane movie, ice on my ankle and ice cream in my lap, to make my big girl happy.

When 6 a.m. came there were two beauties sleeping deep in the morning light. I stumbled out to the barn and let the rhythmn of milking wake me up to the joy of my life and the love of my daughters.

What love is...

2010-05-10T18:48:00.000-07:00

Love is holding a scalding hot french fry in front of the air conditioner vent before you give it to your 3-year-old...and then doing it again and again.

Love is coming home tired and hurt and then cleaning up shattered glass followed by green throw-up.

Love is going to bed letting your 12-year-old use up all the hot water when all you want is a long bath.

Love is driving a mini-van full of trash to the dump every week.

Love is loading the dish washer full of a week's worth of lunch Tupperware someone decided to bring home all at once...at 11 o'clock at night.

Love is waiting up to finish washing dirty gym clothes that someone forgot to bring home last weekend...then gave to you at 9 p.m. Monday night.

Love is waking up at 6 am and pushing a sore tired body into a pair of jeans and boots and milking goats so Ivy's tummy is happy.

Love is giving it all away knowing you'll never get it back.

Love is...

Sun Kissed

2010-05-07T19:27:00.000-07:00

The first burn of summer, or in my case the first burn of five summers. It's been years since I've been burned. My shoulders are cherry red and my brow is bright pink. But it was worth it.

Just a week ago I sat by the indoor pool and pitied my friend and her fiery arms. I didn't learn from her mistake.

My thoughts were riding on the high seas of emotion and I needed a run. I tossed on my shoes and threw caution to the proverbial wind. After six miles I was smooth sailing on glassy waters. Heat and heartbeats had once again cleansed my soul.

Then I couldn't cool down. I was hot. I didn't realize until hours later. I had been burned.

Strangely I am still smiling. Sweet conversation and smooth caramel on apples have kissed my lips and I am satisfied.

(Image from Google images.)

Heaven and Hell

2010-05-06T15:45:00.000-07:00

Between Heaven and Hell there is a whisper of life.

Most days you hold on tight. But sometimes...

You stop thinking. You stop talking. You start feeling.

Today, for a moment my fingers weakened, I let go.

The New Chick

2010-05-03T19:24:00.000-07:00

My too-high heels were the loudest thing in the quiet stone building. My ears are accustom to imagined sword fights and too-real sibling rivalry echoing in the background.

The brass key was heavy in my hand. I have an office. It doesn't have a window. Sincere smiles and unneeded heat from the radiators made me warm. After five years, I imagined going back to work would be more traumatic than tepid. I listened. I read. I took notes. The morning was spent and I was back outside.

I was still wearing the heels when I teetered to the babysitter's door to get Ivy. We stopped at the feed store and the 50 lb bag of chick starter almost toppled me. An hour and an appointment later I finally slipped my shiny red toes into my work boots.

They. Felt. So. GOOD.

I found my hammer. I shifted and lifted. I turned on a light.

Our chicks arrived and I set them up with everything they will need to live and grow. Food, water, and warmth.

But I wonder, will they really be living? Or will life start when they get outside?

(Post Edit...seriously I can't spell. Sorry about that.)

Hot Tin Roof

2010-05-02T18:53:00.000-07:00

My barn.

My barn is big and beautiful. It grew up and out from necessity to unexpected luxury. I love my barn. Tall and strong, soon my barn will be crowned with a silver roof.

But before the silver my roof needed sticky icky black. A rusty bucket of tar and a red haired girl had a date on that roof top.

I didn't want to go up there alone.

I put it off. I begged for help. I ran out of excuses.

Friday morning found me climbing a leaning ladder to the top of the barn. My recycled tin roof was sprinkled with nail holes. My mission was to fill those holes with tar and blot out the stems of light that were streaming down into the rooms below.

The bucket kept slipping so I had to keep one hand gripped on the sticky handle at all times. I slid on my backside up and down, over and over again. I planned my route on the roof top, clockwise, so the black smears I was dabbing on wouldn't end up on me.

Solitude and I are seldom on good terms, but that day we made peace. Hours flew by and before noon I was done. The sun touched the metal and I was warm from the outside in. My careful planning didn't include a smooth decent. Not one inky blob had touched my skin until the job was done. On the way down I managed black streaks on my skin, on my shins, and on my side.

Between the bruises from the day before and the tar, the white canvas of my skin was painted black and blue. Honestly, I don't mind.

Winner

2010-04-28T19:17:00.001-07:00

Sarah M. won the stickers from uprinting.com.

Sorry that's all tonight. More in the am.

Congrats.

The interview.

2010-04-27T19:10:00.000-07:00

The moon stole my stress tonight. In a sixty-mile-an-hour second I was captive. An enormous misty ball rising in a still-blue sky. Fit-to-be-tied muscles melted in unfocused moonlight I leaned into the wheel for support. It was a long drive home and I couldn't stop staring.

The weight of my world turned to mist.

A month ago I was panicking. The always annoying voice in my head wouldn't shut up...

'Dan's assistanceship only pays him through the end of May...what are we going to do for summer money?'

In the midst of my remodeling madness I was all messed up about something months away.

'Should I waitress again..it's been 10 years...would I get tips like I used to?'
'Maybe a full-time job?'
'I need to apply for something.'
'I could try selling soap.'
'Maybe I can do Dan's internship application for him since he is oblivious to our impending poverty.'
'Writer/Editor...Virginia Tech...that might work. But I'll never get it. They must get hundreds of resumes.'
'I am so overqualified for the job...I might just get it.'
'Nah, I'll never get it. They probably want cheap student labor.'
'Whatever. I'll try.'

Then Dan got the internship. The one I spent 2 days online applying for. So I didn't need a job. I hung up my resume and went about the business of baby goats and baking cheesecake. I didn't hear about the Writer/Editor job. No worries. Hurt my pride a little not to even get an interview, but whatever.

Then they called.

One month.
Two copies of my resume.
Three references.
Fours hours to complete the application.
Three phone calls.
Two interviews.
One job offer.

One job offer.

Back up. Do you want more details? Yes. No? You don't care...

I walked into the interview all curly hair and high heels. I laughed. I was a little too honest with my answers. After all I didn't need the job anymore. I mentioned my goats and my four kids. I didn't think they wanted to tackle all that craziness.

I guess I was wrong.

They even offered me more than the advertised wage.

The rest of the day every task was tagged with 'I got the job.'

I finished painting the strawberry boxes. I got the job.
I folded all the laundry. I got the job.
I helped Jax with his homework. I got the job.
I milked the goats and one kicked the bucket. I got the job.
I gave Jax his asthma treatment. I got the job.
I loaded children and goats into the car to visit Cathy's farm. I got the job.

But when the moon rose, something sank down inside, and I realized.

I. Got. The. Job.

Now what?

Sugar and Spice

2010-04-26T18:54:00.000-07:00

Introducing Sugar and Spice.

(The boys were much better behaved for their photo shoot. Also the photographer was much less stressed out that day...)

S.W.A.K.

2010-04-25T20:06:00.000-07:00

Each tart was sealed with a kiss of my wet fingertips. Dark blue raspberry filling folded into a melt-in-your-mouth flaky crust.

This morning I whirled and my mixer twirled. Steamy mashed potatoes melted my curled-for-church hair. Silky chocolate was baked into dreamy bread pudding. A new black pepper-grinder bumped and grinded and my pork roast was spiced to perfection.

I may not be the best cook in the world but no dish reaches my table without a spoonful of my soul stirred in. Love and food are tied and tangled together. If you love my food. You love me.

(Warning...this is where my post is going to take a spin to the left. Grab the brake and drift with me.)

I've noticed I can see veins on my arms when I'm working. I don't think I've ever been this strong. So why do I still feel weak? Nevermind. I'll keep going. I'll keep getting stronger.

Ivy is talking more. Her bursts of conversation leave me breathless like this afternoon's hail storm...coming out of nowhere and then vanishing into grins and pointing.

While I gather Ivy's sentences like pearls to string on my heart Sierra's pre-teen angst is rubbing me raw. I can't believe I'm in for 6 more years of this...and she doesn't even have her period yet. I'm truly frightened.

Somehow I need to convince her that she's beautiful, smart, amazing, and in control of her future. It would help if I believed those things about myself...

Jax eats, sleeps, and breaths (with difficulty) legos. Movies, toys, and even monthly lego club. His asthma is slowing him down and keeping me up at night. Every day I press my ear to his back and breathe deep hoping that I can will his lungs to work right. Friends and fun come easy even when he can barely inhale.

(We're still drifting. Flying blindly around the curves, hoping that rubber and blacktop grip tight and keep us from crashing.)

The barn is beautiful and beacons to me from my kitchen windows. I have stood alone at the door smelling the new wood and sliding a silver lock into place. Then I steal back up to the house and hope that nobody saw me. This week I will scale the roof and tar all the holes that shine my stems of light. I will miss them.

There are strawberry plants on my front step. The boxes are waiting in wood and screws to be built. A sweet treat task for tomorrow morning. Saturday my back was tight from sewing seeds into my untried garden soil. A few days before little leafy raspberry bushes were lined up and planted along the fence. A fanciful fig bush is tucked in next to the house.

I am digging in. I am staying here to see the fruits of my labor.

(Blind curve ahead. Grip the wheel.)

My camera cable is lost and I am lost without a way to see my world hold still. Sierra and her friend fed bottles of milk to fat-bellied baby goats tonight. I snapped, but those images are trapped without a way onto my laptop...or yours.

I am watching everything fly by my window, it's stunning. I want to stop. I want to savor the sights. I want...

I can't have everything I want.

One last thing. Dan is leaving. To West Palm Beach for the summer. Three months. I don't know what else to say. I wish my brain had an off button. I wish I could stop thinking.

I wish...I want...I...

Maybe I can push this car a little faster. Maybe I can make it to the finish line first. It will take a lot more than a wish. Maybe I can do it.

Dust Bunnies

2010-04-22T04:19:00.000-07:00

In the morning the nighttime monsters have been reduced to dust bunnies under the bed.

Sticky sweet...

2010-04-21T17:32:00.000-07:00

I made a cheesecake.

Three or maybe five hours...I lost count. Five packages of creme cheese. Seven eggs. Ripe ripe raspberries.

Sweet. Intense. RED. Smooth. Creamy. Sooooo good.

I've eaten half of it by myself. Oreo crust. I crushed those cookies to smithereens.

It was everything I wanted it to be. Better than anything bought, begged, or borrowed. Somehow it wasn't quite enough. I am still empty. My lips are sticky. My stomach is full.

I think I need to make another cheesecake. Then I need to go running.

In the mean time. Do you want some stickers? Here you go...

Comment. I will pick a winner on the 28th. 7 days to heaven or just 7 days to stickers. Stickers are not heaven. But we can imagine can't we? We can get close can't we?

Here are the details for Labels/Stickers Giveaway:

1. Giveaway Prize:

250 Stickers/Labels One (1) Winner

Sizes: 2 x 3.5, 2 x 4 or 3 x 3

Paper Stock: 70 lb Label Matte coating

Specifications: Full Color Front and Blank back (4/0); 6 Business Days Turnaround

Shipping: FREE UPS Ground Shipping

Eligibility: Limited to US Residents only

Uprinting...sticker printing experts. Seriously.