Halloween Table Runner

Here is the table runner I started in August and finally pushed myself to finish just in time to enjoy for 5 days before Halloween. This was a stash project where I used only fabric I already owned without going shopping. The orange with the big bats would not be my first choice for a background fabric. At least it's bright and colorful and the kids like it! Plus I spent money only on the thread for the project!

Goofball

We lost our kitten this morning. The sensors on our garage door are set too high for kittens and the last person to close the door didn't even know anything was wrong. This morning I went looking for her when she didn't run up as I was letting the dogs out. It was a suprise even to the dogs.

As I sit here typing it amazes me that I really didn't want this kitten. She came at an inconvenient time and our road is so busy it's not a good place for cats. We loved her. We loved her from the very first day. She and Jazz bonded after Zowie had her puppies. From out of nowhere she would attack Jazzmine. Jazzmine would gently play with her and always I was amazed since the kitten was smaller than Jazz's head.

Sam was in total kitten love. He carried that kitten everywhere with his little arms wrapped around her middle and her front and rear ends dangling. And she let him. She even sought him out. Her cute little white and seal nose would twitch and suddenly she'd start attacking the drawstring on Sam's pants or chasing dust glimmers in the air. He didn't even hear me the first time I told him she was gone. Afterwards he went out looking for her and we had to tell him again. I could see when he understood and it makes my heart hurt more than losing the kitten did.

Chris is wandering around muttering, "but she never got to grow up." I have to agree and join in saying that it isn't fair. It's absolutely not fair. He loved to cuddle the kitten while doing his reading work and just this week he set up a study area in his room that has toys for Kitten to play with. Chris never did agree to the name Goofball for the cat. To him she has always been Kitten.

Jake is worried about our other two cats. I think Dave just took him out to the shop to check on them. Tigger and Wolfie came to us when their owner was allergic to them and it was either us or the shelter. We haven't spent as much time with them since they were full grown when they got here and they live in the shop out back. Dave never wanted a cat in the house and has campaigned pretty actively to keep them away from the house and yard, relegating them to the shop and pasture.

Gosh, I miss that kitten. She fit in so well with our family. I'm not convinced there are any other kittens in the world who would trust my children and our big dogs the way this kitten trusted us. She was special. Someone didn't want her and dumped her here. I didn't think we wanted her either... for about an hour. Today I wish more than anything that we could have had her forever. My heart HURTS and even knowing our life was richer for knowing Goofball doesn't make it hurt less.

New Addition to the Family

This afternoon I whipped together a new addition to our little family. Originally I planned to give her away as a baby shower present but I've been informed by my oldest son that he thinks she will miss Leslie (his small stuffed rabbit) and the stress of the afternoon has caused New Green Bunny to take to her bed. I actually had to grab this rabbit and run in order to take a picture.

Next time I make one I think the ears should not curve outward. A nice teardrop shape would work better. It's hard to see her mouth in the pictures, but next time I'll remember to embroider the mouth before I stuff the silly creature and most likely a darker thread would show up better. Chris really does like her mouth pink though, he says that real rabbit lips and noses are pink.

Pay it Forward

How do you recognize religious truth? Is it true if you hear it from a member of the clergy? Is it true if you read it in the Bible? Is it true if it comes into your conscience while praying? Is it true if a ranking church official tells you it's true? How do you recognize religious truth?

I was taught always to question. Always questioning makes it hard to subscribe to any one religion. It does make it easier to listen to other people's religious truths and keep an open mind- after all, they may have true revelations to share. Do you suppose there is any one church that knows all the answers?

I always pictured God's truth as a pie (probably an apple pie). That pie has to feed many people, and it is a continually replenished dish. Any religion you can think of has at least a small piece of that pie. None of the religions have a monopoly on pie. Where religious issues get sticky is that each church adds some of their own toppings to the pie. After all, apple pie surely should be served a'la mode. But then again, some people prefer their apple pie with sharp cheddar cheese. Some like the pie hot, others cold. Once in a while you find enterprising gourmets who drizzle fresh caramel sauce over the apple pie and ice cream. Delicious, wonderful enhancements. But how do we separate the enhanced toppings from the simple goodness of the apple pie God gave us in the beginning?

The extra ingredients get all tumbled together. The dessert may be palatable in any form, but we tend to begin thinking that apple pie a'la mode is the only good pie. After a while we forget that in the beginning there was just pie. God didn't serve it with ice cream, we added that ourselves. When we forget who added the ice cream we begin to condemn those people who eat their pie with cheddar. They aren't as apple pie-ish as we are. Their truth isn't our truth. What we really forget is that God already gave us the truth and we chose to add to it to make it more palatable to us.

I have great respect for people of faith who live their convictions. I have no respect at all for people who profess their convictions but don't live them. In the thirty-three years I have lived on this Earth I've met many people who wanted to "save me." There were people who preached their faith to me. There were people who sent missionaries to preach for them. There were people who "invited" me to their churches. There were people who educated me about the consequences for my eternal soul if I didn't believe the way they did.

And then there was Genaura. She wasn't the only person I met who helped shape my faith (in a good way), but she is the one who stands out most in my memory. Genaura had a deep and abiding faith. I did not know that because she said, "I have a deep and abiding faith." I knew that because she woke me up at 5:00 in the morning to secretly plant pansies for the old lady who lived on the corner. I know of Genaura's faith because I once tried to pay her back for a ride back home from school and she instructed me to do the same for someone else when I had the opportunity. She never used the words "pay it forward. " She lived her life "paying it forward."

As a college freshman I was a much more negative person than I am today. My outlook was pessimistic. I didn't particularly like other people, especially women. I analyzed the worth and quality of everything (material and philosophical). Always, I was searching for the flaw, the impurity. I could not see without judging.

Eventually there came a time when I couldn't sleep at night because my mind just would not turn off. All night long I lay in bed weighing the events of the day. One evening I went into Genaura's room to visit. She was writing in her journal. I asked her about it, if it helped her sort out her day or did she just chronicle her day? Her answer changed my life. Her answer changed the way I saw the world, and God, and my place here.

Gratitude. She journaled gratitude. It was the last thing she did before going to bed. Genaura kept a gratitude journal. When I thought about my day, I chronicled all that went wrong- all that I could have done better. When Genaura went to bed she chronicled all that was good in her day. She never mentioned the bad. Her end of day routine was all about remembering to be thankful and showing gratitude to God for the amazing day she'd gotten to experience.

We lived together. Some of classes had the same professors. We shared some friends. Our days were not that different. The way we saw our days was absolutely different. I saw trials and injuries. She saw wonder and light and opportunity. In the end, I saw God working through her.

I've met many "Christians" who believe in good works. They believe good works are required, commanded by God. Genaura believed that Jesus died for us, no strings attached. If you accept the gift YOU ARE SAVED. In gratitude you pay it forward and help others while expecting nothing in return. You are saved. Pay it forward.

Normal? What's normal?

Normal is a relative term. I think we (my family and me) are fairly normal people. I think most (but not all) of our friends are fairly normal people. And then there are days like today. There are days when you have to mind your tongue, not because you're afraid of offending, but because you will literally freak somebody out if you respond in your usual fashion. Not only do you have to mind your tongue, you have to change your vocabulary, just to help others feel comfortable. And... I'm not good at it.

This afternoon one of my new 4-H members brought his rabbits over for me to look at. He just enrolled at our last meeting and is totally new to the whole 4-H thing. He's had rabbits for a little while but really doesn't know much about them. Most of the resources you find that aren't published by the American Rabbit Breeders Association (A.R.B.A.) or through a university press are not worth the paper they're printed on. There is a tremendous amount of garbage being advocated by "pet" rabbit people who have neither the experience or education to back up their recommendations. Unfortunately, my willing young 4-Her did not find information from the good reference sources.

He's had a very educational year. His doe died this summer due to heat stroke. She had three week old babies at the time. The boy and his family bottle fed them. They did have a friend who knew enough to sex the babies and they got the doe in the litter seperated from the bucks. Then they left the buck in the same cage. Bucks are territorial. They fight once they reach maturity. One day the boy went out and found a testicle laying on the cage wire. When they examined all the bucks they had very swollen testicles (sorry about the graphic nature of the post, but the 1 reader I have probably skipped back to the puppy pictures by now anyway).

They took the rabbits to the vet. He diagnosed vent disease (without really examining them or running any cultures). The vet prescribed three doses of penicillin one week apart. This is a good way of eradicating vent disease. If your rabbits have vent disease and didn't just castrate each other. The same vet has been charging the family around eighty dollars a month to clip teeth on one of the bucks. His angle of bite is incorrect and rabbit teeth grow forever. A rabbit with malocclusion will die of malnutrition if the teeth aren't trimmed regularly. It takes about two weeks for the teeth to be overgrown after you clip them off at the gumline. It's not a condition that's really compatible with good quality of life for the rabbit.

The mom asked me for advice. I'm afraid that my first response (inside my head) was... kill them. Oops, I mean cull them (which means... kill them). At that point, just as I was opening my mouth, it occured to me that maybe this family (with four kids) needed a more tactful approach than an out and out recommendation to do away with their rabbits. So, I told them I'd do some research and get back to them.

And here is where I begin to really understand that to some people I may seem a little weird (Amy, don't even think about it). I spent a couple hours the next Saturday morning on the phone to my mother and another rabbit breeder/microbiologist in Moscow. I'd already done some research on my own. Really, I wanted them to confirm that we should cull the rabbits before I told the family. I truly, truly enjoyed the conversation I had with the Moscow rabbit breeder. We spent over an hour and a half debating whether treponema cuniculi could survive in a wood cage over a period of months. It's anaerobic so I would guess that if it dries out and doesn't have a host it can't survive in the environment. Then we discussed that if there were a disease organism present it was most likely to be pasturella multocida. You can treat and cure an infection caused by treponema cuniculi but pasturella multocida always comes back when an animal is stressed. Both are highly contagious. Pasturella multocida is the big bad of bacterial infections in rabbits. I can cause everything from a respiratory infection that easily turns into pnemonia, to abscesses, to hemorrhagic septicimia, to genital infections. It's nasty, has 98% morbidity and isn't truly curable (although you can send it into remission). Of course it's also endemic (meaning you could pick it up anywhere and many, many rabbits without symptoms are carriers.

The gist of my thought is... I had a pleasurable time researching and talking diseases and bacteria with my friends while putting off the time I needed to tell this poor boy he should really see about introducing his bunnies to their place in the food chain.

Today, they brought the bunnies to see me. I very tactfully asked the boy (after noting the malocclusion problem) how much money he made every month (he's eleven). Then I asked him if he wanted to learn how to clip rabbit teeth using wire cutters. Then I suggested that maybe the rabbits quality of life wasn't so very good that he shouldn't join the food chain (think Birds of Prey Raptor Breeding Program in Kuna, ID). Wasn't that tactful of me? I thought it was quite good considering my skills in tactfullness compare to a bulls gracefullness while trampling through a china shop.

While examining his other bucks I found that the one who was missing some of his dangly bits had some serious nasty stuff going on with his other male parts. His life was never going to be the same (I'm not sure how he could pee). The last of the bucks looked pretty good until I noticed he had drool marks under his chin. It doesn't seem like much, but drool's the first sign that a molar (in the back where human eyes can't see) has broken. The mom told me she noticed the drool shortly after she separted the bucks (after the castration incident). A broken molar usually occurs after someone drops a rabbit on the cement or they bang themselves around in their cage (usually during a thunderstorm or dog attack). So... Dave had to "cull" all three bucks.

Now I'm wondering how long I need to wait before I can bring out the skulls with malocclusion at a 4-H meeting. Really, how could I pass up the opportunity to use these wonderful specimens as educational aids? I'm just not sure if an eleven year old boy would think they were cool... or if his little heart would hurt. Knowing that my own son would think it's cool to see the teeth and the structure of the jaw reminds me that "normal is a relative term."

Puppy Update

There don't seem to be many controversial words in my head lately (haven't been paying attention to politics) so I've fallen behind on my blogging. The major event still occuring in our household is puppies. Yes, puppies qualify as an event. Especially when there are 11 of them. They are still healthy, active, and beautiful. Our neighbors (whose dog we borrowed) are going to keep a boy (thank goodness, since there are 9 (!!!) boys in the litter). They also think the police department may want to buy one of them as a drug detection dog. A few of their friends are also interested in hunting dogs. It leaves me wondering, if they find homes for half the litter (not an inconsiderable feat) do I give them a finder's fee? Do I buy them dinner? Do I just say "thank you" and run with the money? What would you do if it were your neighbors and your puppies?




Christine finally found my blog (but didn't comment). She later told me that I need more recent pictures. So I am going to fill the rest of my blog this evening with current family pictures. Sorry, there aren't any of me that don't show a horrendous double chin (obviously the camera added something there) and my husband makes himself scarce when the camera's out so you'll have to be happy with pictures of the boys and dogs.






It is really hard to take a picture of big dogs when they keep following you.

Pay no attention to the chocolate smeared all over Sam's face. Please. These are pictures from birth day.

Good thing we have a large pool for the puppies. Notice the classy plastic lawn furniture arranged around the pool for viewing convenience.

Finally, here are the puppies today. Sorry I didn't get any kids in the picture so it's hard to see how much they've grown. By this time next week everyone should have their eyes open and they'll be well on their way to becoming holy terrors (just like the rest of the family). Enjoy them while they're small and sweet and have no teeth.

I don't know if it's the years or the miles...

Today my youngest child turned three. I remembered his birthday sometime Friday evening. Somehow I think the "Mommy of the Year" is going to bypass me again this year. It's not so much that I forgot his birthday, it just snuck (sneaked?) up on me. One day it was October 9th, a few days later it was the 11th... the time in between is a bit blurry (and no, I wasn't drinking... this month). We threw together a dinner party in his honor, invited the family (although only grandparents could attend on such short notice), made cake, served ice cream, and a good time was had by all.

If we only had one child it would be so much different. I remember Chris's first birthday. It was amazingly organized. I set the party date a couple months in advance. The invitations were designed on the computer using MS Publisher. It was a dinosaur theme. I decorated the cake myself. It was homemade carrot cake baked in a dinosaur shaped pan. The cake was delicious and it was a work of art. You should have seen it. The color scheme for the evening was green and orange (to go with the dinosaur theme... being a 4-H Program Coordinator involves some event planning, don't ya know). The dinosaur was green with orange spikes. He was some of my best cake work ever. I made treat bags for all the kids we invited to the party.

We used the good china. I think we may even have used the silver (the real silver silverware, not the stainless steel silver colored silverware). I served homemade raspberry lemonade in an antique glass pitcher. Secretly I marveled over how simple it was planning and throwing kid's parties. I wondered why some moms just gave in and served food from the freezer section (value added product) and glopped store bought frosting on a cake mix cake. I mean really, how hard is it to just put together a simple homemade party?

Fast forward seven years. Can you believe I didn't even think about setting a date for the birthday event until 2 (!!!) days before the kid's birthday? Not only that, I didn't even decorate. There was no party theme, no decorations (unless you count the chair where I piled presents as grandparents arrived), no color scheme, no good china, no silver, no antique pitchers (although I did serve pop out of a plastic bottle). The cake started it's life in a box on the grocery store shelf. Jake came out while I was cleaning the puppy pool and crumbled one edge (about 8") of the cake into a bowl to eat while he was waiting for me to return to the kitchen. I just put extra frosting on that side.

One question that keeps returning to my mind is: Are people with multiple children different than people with no children or only one child? I think they are, which leads to another question: Were these parents different before they had more children? Or did having more children change the parents? I think the children changed us. If Chris were my only child I would not be the woman I am today. If Chris and Sam were my only children I would not be the woman I am today. If I have three more children I will not remain the woman I am today (and really... heaven help us all!). Life's experiences shape us. Things I believed to be vitally important seven years ago (like color schemes for birthday parties) don't even register on my radar for importance today.

Some stuff I thought might be nice (like visiting one on one with grandparents) I now find incredibly, amazingly essential. Keeping a set schedule, providing party favors, decorating the cake with a set pattern (you know, so you can tell that white blob of whipped cream is a puppy instead of an inkblot)... it doesn't really matter. Having our family with us to celebrate Jake's birthday, that's much more essential. Relaxing and enjoying the day instead of stressing over whether the invitations were mailed with the best looking stamp... much more important to my children.

P.S. That pink cake is a Raspberry Cake. All Jake wanted for his birthday was Raspberry Cake. We've never eaten or made a raspberry cake before (at least not that I can remember) but it was his main request. This recipe has raspberry jello powder as well as a package of frozen raspberries baked in the batter. It is more violently pink on the inside than it is on the outside. The frosting is whipped cream mixed with a package of frozen raspberries. The whipped cream really tones down the color. Just in case you were wondering it was delicious :-)

Ezekiel Bread

I was looking through our latest Taste Of Home magazine when I came across a recipe for Ezekiel bread. Most of the bread eaten in our house is homemade. New recipes are frequently examined in an attempt to find the best bread recipes ever. This recipe was prefaced by a note from the person who submitted it:

"If your Bible's handy, read Ezekiel 4:9 to find the inspiration for this recipe and its title. This tender, chewy, mulitgrain bread has a hint of sweetness."

I looked up Ezekiel 4:9.

"Take wheat and barley, beans and lentils, millet and spelt; put them in a storage jar and use them to make bread for yourself. You are to eat it during the 390 days you lie on your side."

Ok, that doesn't sound bad. Of course this particular recipe only calls for wheat flour, wheat germ, and bread flour. That might seem multigrained to some people. It is however a far cry from the multigrain loaf described in Ezekiel 4:9.

But wait! It gets better. I believe that if you're looking for scriptural inspiration you really need to read the whole passage to get a feel for the meaning of the verse. So, let's take a look at Ezekiel 4:9-13.

'Take wheat and barley, beans and lentils, millet and spelt; put them in a storage jar and use them to make bread for yourself. You are to eat it during the 390 days you lie on your side. Weigh out twenty shekels of food to eat each day and eat it at set times. Also measure out a sixth of a hin of water and drink it at set times. Eat the food as you would a barley cake; bake it in the sight of the people, using human excrement for fuel. The LORD said, "In this way the people of Israel will eat defiled food among the nations where I will drive them."'

Mmmm. Boy that sounds good. I think I'll go bake some bread and eat it in rememberance of Ezekiel 4:9. Or maybe not.

How did we get so old?

It finally happened. And I was suprised. Last night was our first meeting in the new 4-H year. We've been with this club long enough (going on 3 years) that we're comfortable there. Chris and I have made friends in our group (not hard to do when there are 70+ members). Most meetings are uneventful and predictable. But last night was the first meeting of the new year.

The first meeting is the meeting when all of the leaders put out their project sign up sheets (I'm leading rabbits, cavies, six easy bites, and cake decorating... yes, I have gone crazy... years ago). The extension office sends prospective new members our way. The new members attend this meeting and frequently it's the first time we've ever seen them.

Last night as I was manning my little section of the table, I heard my name. K'Anne (the cloverbud leader) was telling a new mom that I'd be helping her with the project this year (darn it, K'Anne! I'm just not good with the littlest kids... especially when they're mine). I turned to greet the new member and her mom. The mom looked a little familiar (but I'm not particulary good with faces... I could have seen her as I entered the room and then later thought she looked familiar). I studied her for a split second and then she smiled and said, "I thought those eyes looked familiar! I know Janet!" And I looked at her a moment longer. Oh. My. God. I am so old. It was bound to happen. After all we're in 4-H... which means my child is old enough for the program.

It wasn't so bad (once the initial shock wore off). Brenda's always been friendly (a little too put together for me to be totally comfortable with, but nice). She's intelligent, good with children, creative (and hey, her mom owns a quilt store... that can only be a good thing), and someone I used to show horses with, judge horses with, do horsebowl with, attend teen conference with... you get the idea. Anyway, it wasn't so bad until she said..."Wow! It's been, like, 20 years!" And she didn't have to round up much to estimate 20. Twenty. And now we have kids taking the same project, in the same club.

I'm really quite excited (did I mention her mom owns a quilt shop? and that she's good with kids, creative. Did I mention her mom owns a quilt shop). What I'm really thinking this morning is... she would make a way better co-leader for the cloverbud project than I would. Isn't that exciting to all potential cloverbud members in our club? (Have I mentioned that the littlest kids aren't really my cup of tea?). However, 20 years still seems like an amazingly long time to me. How did we get so old? I've been an adult for 15 years now. My contemporaries have children doing things with my children that we used to do. Parenthood is a wild ride, and it's only getting crazier the older my kids are.

Motherhood is for the dogs

This afternoon Sam's preschool class is going on a field trip to the park. His teacher asked if I'd come along as a parent volunteer and of course I jumped at the opportunity to work with my middle child and get to know his friends from school a little better. Chris and Jake made arrangements to go visit Grandma and Grandpa Anderson and there was talk of pop drinking and candy eating. It was going to be a glorious day!

About 11:10 we started getting ready to go. The kids found their shoes. They put on their brand new socks (purchased yesterday). I kept hearing whining. The kids were in the living room fixing their shoes... nope.... none of them looked unhappy. I started looking for Goofball (the new kitten). Nope... she and Jazz (Sam's black dog) were not at loggerheads. Then I heard it again.

Wouldn't you know it!?! There she was... on my bedroom carpet... whelping puppies! We've been watching since last Tuesday (when she a had a bit of false labor) wondering when the puppies would make an appearance. Everything I've read tells you that your bitch will go off her feed before she whelps. Zowie ate everything in sight this morning, and yet... there she was... in all her glory... on my bedroom carpet.

Chris and I got the 4 puppies we found in my room moved to their pool in the shop. Zowie eagerly followed us out. I called Sam's grandparents and school to let them know we would not be there today. Then we waited. In the shop my children have a setup that looks like a pool party going on. The swimming pool (where Zowie whelps and we keep the puppies the first two weeks) is in the center of the floor. There's a door behind her and shelves to one side. Ranged around the rest of the pool are lawn chairs, blankets, water bottles, a huge bowl of dogfood, 5 or 6 rawhide retriever rolls, newspapers, old beach towels, and a large mug of tea.

Sam brought the tea. He very assuredly tells me that, "Mommies need tea," At this point Chris and Jake returned to the house to watch cartoons (Yea! No school! Mom's busy! Quick, get the potato chips before she comes to check on us!!!). Sam spent all afternoon in the shop, sitting in the pool, patting Zowie's head, saying, "It's ok Zo, good Zo, look at your puppies Zo," He calmly places clean towels over the cold, wet towels. He helps struggling puppies find teats. He watches to make sure each puppy born gets cleaned and dried. When Zo starts pushing and I'm not there he calls out to let me know she's having more babies. What an amazing 4 year old Sam is! I absolutely love that he would rather stay with his whelping dog than watch cartoons! It's amazing that he calmly, gently, quietly supports the dog (when others might run around making noise and stealing puppies). No day at school would have taught him more. No teacher or classmate would have presented him with an opportunity to really care for a living creature today! Life's lessons frequently are not learned in a classroom and we are so blessed that today we had the option to choose which environment we'd spend our school day in. It is a glorious day!

**10 puppies and counting.

**11 puppies at 3:45pm

I have way too much help typing

We have a new kitten. She was across the street from our house last Friday evening crying as if her whole world had come to an end. I didn't know what to do with her. We're expecting a litter of puppies any day now and certainly don't need to add another animal to the mix at this point. I tried everybody I could think of on Friday night... to no avail. No one would shelter a poor, innocent kitten until a new home could be found for her. I knew... even as I chose not to throw the poor, yowling kitten back outside where she would certainly be run over on our busy street... I knew... a kitten who spends the night in a house full of young boys would not be finding a new home. Now I have way more help than I need whenever I try to use the computer.

I wasn't sad

I always thought depression was about feeling hopeless and sad. It was about crying at the drop of the hat for no apparent reason. Depression was a deep black hole with no visible exit sign. I was not depressed. I loved my life. I loved my children. I loved my husband. I could see a rosy future in front of all of us.

I also could barely stand to bathe my 2 month old baby by myself. It was so easy to see all the calamities that could befall us. I could slip in water he splashed on the floor. Then I might hit my head. I could be knocked unconscious. My baby, despite my best efforts, could die because of some freak accident. Some car might cartwheel through our yard hitting the bathroom. We could all be crushed when the walls collapsed. Oh my goodness, we won't even go into the scenarios where random acts of violence could be perpetrated against my poor, small, innocent children. But I wasn't sad. I was just a little bit anxious.

I watched other mothers, some with way more children than I had, do a tremendous amount of work in a day. I worked hard all day and yet there were still piles of laundry to fold, dishes to wash, carpets to vacuum, and meals to cook. It seemed like no matter what I did I just was not good at being a housewife. Working with 2 kids in tow felt like trying to run in chest deep mud. My body was slow and heavy. I was lazy, and apparently a poor housekeeper. But I wasn't sad.

When Sam was 9 weeks old my grandmother had cataract surgery. She needed someone to come stay with her the first couple of nights. Since we're all comfortable at Grandma's house I volunteered to bring my little family to visit until she could see well enough to get around. Dave came home early that night and stopped by Grandma's (where I was with the kids). He still needed to go home and pack a bag and I needed to go buy some milk and salad ingredients. Chris was almost 3 and he wanted to stay with Grandma. Since my mom lives just up the road from Grandma and she was on her way home, I called and she offered to stop by and stay with Grandma and Chris. I took Sam, since he was nursing every hour and a half or so, and Dave and took Dave home to pack a bag.

It made sense that while Dave was packing I'd go do the small amount of grocery shopping we needed. Usually when Dave was home I'd leave the kids with him when I went to the store. That day he was in a hurry and didn't want to deal with Sam too. We had a conversation about it and I said I'd take Sam grocery shopping with me. Sometime between our house and the store I forgot that Sam was with me. You hear about mothers "forgetting" their kids in the car and I always assumed that they must have some horrible character fault that enabled them to absentmindedly forget a child.

That's not at all what happened. I walked across that parking lot and into the grocery store thinking about my family, thinking about my baby. I hurried because I didn't want Dave to feed Sam a bottle (I HATE pumping!!).

I saw babies in the store and thought about how Sam compared with their size and weight. It wasn't until I returned to my car that I had even an inkling that Sam was still there. It was as if all the thoughts in my brain were on separate pieces of paper and somehow the page that knew Sam was with me was stuck behind the sheet that had me planning to leave Sam with his dad while I went shopping. I was forgetful, and apparently a horrid mother, but I wasn't sad.

Thinking about it later, I realized that there were several occasions I left the house and forgot where I was going by the time I got to the stop sign on the corner. Usually I just went to the grocery store at that point because I was guaranteed to find something we needed. I also had a hard time reading and getting into the story before I was needed elsewhere. I would rather give up breathing than not read, but I certainly wasn't reading at the rate I did before the baby was born. Before I had Sam I had a photographic memory and as for focus and concentration... well, let's just say I earned the money for my first car working as a labratory technician. I definately didn't have trouble with memory or concentration. After Sam it was different, but I was just distracted and overwhelmed by my inability to be a good housekeeper as well as a mother. I wasn't sad.

I went to see my doctor after THE INCIDENT. From the time Sam was born until after that doctor's visit I had one huge, long, horrible migraine. I assumed that the hormones were to blame (and they were) and so I didn't seek medical attention. After all, it takes a while for everything to get back to normal after you have a baby. After finally seeking help and telling my doctor about THE INCIDENT he prescribed beta blockers to stop vascular spasm (since they're safe while nursing but migraine meds aren't). The migraine stopped 3 days later. I still felt like I was working in deep mud, but at least the pain in my head had stopped.

Dr. Martin also told me not to beat myself up over THE INCIDENT. He told me that the only difference between me and every other mother is that I had a more dramatic occurance when my memory failed. I didn't really believe him, after all I FORGOT MY BABY IN THE CAR!!! How could that be a common occurance? How do you forgot you have a child with you? Dr. Martin suggested that I was suffering from post-partum depression and I didn't believe him. I was worried and sure that my children would have been better off being raised by wolves, but I wasn't sad.

I did a lot of research about sleep deprivation and that did offer me some comfort and explanation for how the memory lapse could occur. It didn't help me sleep better at night or become a better housekeeper, but it did offer some great solutions to make sure nothing similiar ever happened again (now I never put my purse anywhere other than between the smallest child and the door of the car, then I can't get my purse without seeing my child).

I was incredibly tired, my mind obviously wasn't functioning at it's normal capacity. Although I loved my children I kept wondering if they wouldn't be better off in daycare because at least then I'd be bringing money into the family. My skills as a wife, mother, and home maker were not on par with the skills of those around me. Never in my life had I experienced the feeling that I couldn't be the absolute best at anything I chose to do. But I wasn't sad.

One morning I woke up and realized that the laundry was caught up, the dishes were washed, the floors were vacuumed, my children were fed, and we were all playing and laughing together just like all those other families I saw. It seemed to have happened almost overnight. That day I realized that even though I wasn't sad I had been depressed.

About 8 weeks later I commented to my best friend that I'd only had one period since Sam was born. I knew that nursing makes such things irregular but still, I wondered if I should be concerned. Amy suggested (while laughing really hard) that perhaps I should buy a pregnancy test. Of course, she was right and I was pregnant. In fact, I was 8 weeks pregnant. My whole life changed when Jake implanted and the hormones shifted. The depression was gone. I'm positive that Jake was a gift from God, sent just when he was most needed. If Jake hadn't surprised us I would never have chosen to give birth again because I just wasn't as good a mother as others I saw. If I couldn't hold everything together with two children how much worse would it be with three? Thank GOD for Jake.

Jake's 15 1/2 months younger than Sam. My house isn't always spotless. Okay, it's rarely spotless. The laundry isn't always folded, but it is clean. We eat nutritious home-cooked meals and we play together as a family. I go through life towing 3 small children behind me and it doesn't feel like I'm moving in deep mud, it feels like I'm walking with my family.

Before Jake I might not have said this, but I believed it none the less. Depression affects people with weak minds. If you just try a little harder, work a little more, it will go away. It's not true. I have a good mind. At times I even believe I have a great mind. The lesson I learned is that it's not infallible. I was so ashamed of most every aspect of my life that was touched by the depression that I would never talk about it. It's still hard to share my story, but it's made easier because now I realize that even though I wasn't sad I was depressed. If anyone who reads my story sees even a few things that sound like what they're living with now... know that you're not alone. It's hard to talk about depression and so most of us who've experienced it are silent. Every woman should know, depression is not what you think it is. Sometimes it's forgetfulness, sometimes it's a rage that's so tangible you can almost feel it moving underneath your skin seeking a target to aim for, sometimes it's the inability to move without feeling like you're carrying a 100 pound weight with you. Help is out there. Even nursing moms can take some of the depression medications. Life does get better.

A Trip to the Dentist... a semi-fictional account of our first visit

“I scheduled an appointment for you guys to go to the dentist,” said Mom.

“Why do we have to go?” asked Chris.

“Dentists are doctors?” asked Jake.

“Will there be new toothbrushes?” asked Sam.

“It’s important to have the dentist check your teeth to make sure they’re healthy. The hygienist will use a special tool to clean your teeth while you’re there too.” Mom stated.

“Will it hurt?” asked Chris. “Can I take Leslie with me to hold onto in case I get scared and need her?”

“I’ve never been to a dentist before,” Sam said. “What should I wear to see the dentist? Do I need my backpack?”

“Dentist!!! I want to go!!!!” Jake exclaimed. Jake was only two and didn’t really understand what a trip to the dentist was all about. He just knew that his brothers were going and he wanted in on the action. No one was going to leave him at home while his brothers were out having fun!

Finally the day of their dentist appointments arrived. Chris and Sam weren’t sure that this sounded like a good idea but they were willing to trust Mom if she said it was important that they go. Jake was still excited about the prospect of going somewhere new.

Chris was the first one to get his teeth cleaned. He sat down in the big chair and held onto Leslie (in case he got scared). The lady who cleaned his teeth was very nice and showed him all of her tools and talked about how they worked. She told Chris what she was going to do. It didn’t sound very scary and Chris relaxed as she adjusted the chair back.

“Open your mouth wide so I can count all your teeth,” the lady said. Then she used her little pointy tool and counted all of Chris’s teeth. “Boy, you must do a good job brushing your teeth,” she told Chris. Your teeth look very clean.

Then she used her funny moving cleaning tool to clean Chris’s teeth. “Mmmm, bubble gum toothpaste,” said Chris. He liked the stuff she was using to clean his teeth. It didn’t take very long for her to finish cleaning his teeth. Then she went to get the Dentist.

Chris was a little bit worried but relaxed once the dentist came into the room. The dentist was a very tall man with a big smile. He made Chris feel comfortable and joked around with him a little bit before he looked at Chris’s mouth.

“These teeth look really good,” the dentist told Chris. “Keep on brushing and flossing every day. Pretty soon some of your teeth will get loose and fall out. Then new adult teeth will grow in.” Chris thought that having adult teeth sounded very grown up.

Once the dentist was finished Chris got to choose a toy from a big drawer full of toys. He picked out a squeaky green frog. “It a mutant alien frog from outer space!” Chris exclaimed.

Sam’s turn was next. He really didn’t like the way the chair tilted. He thought it was scary and uncomfortable. He did like the lady who cleaned his teeth. She was very nice and even let him sit up a little in the chair since having it lean all the way back scared him. She used a chain with some funny clips on the end to hold a great big napkin under his chin. She showed Sam all of her tools. “Look, this one shoots water,” she said, as she sprayed a stream of water across the room, “and this one catches the water and sucks it up,” she showed Sam the way the little tube caught and sucked up the water just like a little vacuum. Sam likes tools. He thought it was neat she shared her tools with him.
Sam was not impressed with the bubble gum flavored paste she used to clean his teeth. It didn’t hurt so Sam wasn’t scared anymore, but he did still feel a little bit uncomfortable.

Jake watched the whole process. He was only two so he wouldn’t get his teeth cleaned until after his third birthday. He was excited. Sam and Chris got new toothbrushes, toothpaste, and dental floss in a little bag with the toys the dentist gave them. It didn’t seem fair that Jake didn’t get to have his teeth cleaned and he didn’t get any goodies. Being a remarkably polite and patient child he exclaimed, “Where’s my toothbrush? I want a toothbrush too!!!” The very nice dental hygienist let Jake pick out a new toothbrush too.

Once everyone got home all the boys ran into the bathroom and brushed their teeth using their new toothbrushes. They are excited to go see the Dentist next time.

Random thought at election time

I've been reading other people's blogs again. It gets to be kind of a dangerous habit because most of the blogs I've been reading are those of people who hold vastly different political views than I do. Reading about all these other views made me stop and question why I hold the views I do. It didn't make me question my opinions, just the process that leads me to form those opinions.

My hot button issues are public lands use, private property rights, and gun rights. There are lots of other important issues out there that I'm willing to compromise on but these three are the ones that I use to decide who I'm voting for. Why those issues? Well, there were a couple of things that happened back in the 90's that stand out in my mind. The first was when the subject of wolf introduction in Idaho was debated by the environmentalists and politicians in Washington, D.C.

Every elected official in the state of Idaho told the other elected officials from other states that Idaho didn't want wolves introduced here. Wolves may have been here at one time, but our ecosystem was balanced and it isn't wise to introduce more predators at a time when the jackrabbits aren't multiplying at a rate that requires human intervention (that did happen back in the 70's). In a political move that plainly ignored any sort of state's rights wolves were introduced here anyway.

This might seem like a small event. After all wolves are magnificent. They're smart and beautiful. They raise families and play in the snow. How can Idahoans be so ignorant about how beautiful these animals are? It's not like they're going to come after your kids or anything... Is it?

If you're not from Idaho, and even if you are from Idaho but spend most of your time near the larger communities, you don't truly understand why this was upsetting to us. You'd have to travel in the backcountry to really grasp what it feels like to realize that you are foolish (let's not be negative and say stupid) to go out without carrying a gun. We don't worry so much about the human element as a threat. We worry about the predators. Humans may be the top of the food chain, but we're not invincible and our children certainly ARE small enough to count as prey.

It's not just the wolves that are a threat. Certainly I'm not advocating shooting all predators on sight. But it's just ridiculous to think that more predators are a good thing when the prey isn't multiplying in overabundance. In Moscow, where I went to college, the evening news had a 3 day sequence for wildlife programming education. The first day dealt with what to do if you encounter a moose (goofy looking, but can be deadly). The second day dealt with what to do if you encounter a bear. The third day educated you about what to do to scare away mountain lions and how to never leave your children undefended. Every night during hunting season they also ran a segment on hunter safety... you know... don't shoot at movement unless you have a clear view of your target, wear bright colors so other hunters can see you, always leave someone at home who knows where you went and when you should be back, etc. These programming segments would repeat in rotation all year.

Why do you suppose the news stations felt it was important to run these same segments over and over during the course of the year? Could it be because moose, bears, and mountain lions are an ongoing threat to human safety when humans are near their habitat? I still remember the time a mountain lion grabbed a 6 six year old boy by the head and dragged him off (not through personal experience but news coverage of the event). My first roommate recieved a call one afternoon from one of her friends asking if she should leave for class while a moose grazed in her front yard (NO!!!). The animals aren't walled off in some nice park, they're here, living among us. What makes it ok for someone who doesn't live here to tell us we need more predators among us?

There's also the infamous plan to manage the whole area known as the Columbia Basin as one ecosystem. When you look at a map it makes sense. Try traveling through the Columbia Basin and then tell me your opinion. The Columbia Basin encompasses everything from alpine forest, to meadow, to deserts. One proposal in the sage grouse recovery plan stated that the minimal stubble height allowance for grazing would be 9 inches. The majority of the bunch grasses in the Owyhee Desert only grow 6-8 inches tall. This proposal would have ended all cattle and sheep grazing in the Owyhees even though it's the grazing that keeps fire danger minimized and promotes plant diversity and growth there. A 9 inch stubble height on the Camas Prairie makes sense, grass there grows 24 inches or so. Nine inch stubble height requirements in the desert make no sense at all. It's an unattainable goal.

When you live in a city in the east it's easy to make assumptions about how we should manage public lands in the west. It's easy in the same way that it's easy to know all about parenting when you have no children. Amazing how different your solutions become when you actually know something about the issue you're pontificating about.

Quite a few folks are totally opposed to livestock grazing because they think it's hurting the environment. These same folks must have missed the days in class where we learned about the great herds of bison that used to roam here. If you have a view on grazing and have never actually raised an animal on range land I have an experiment for you to try. Section out a parcel of grass in your lawn. Rope it off, fence it, do whatever it takes to separate it from the rest of your grass so that you don't mow it accidentally. Now, let that grass grow for a season without doing anything to it other than watering. I predict that at the end of the season if you mow that section you will find that there are many fewer plants there. The tall grass will shade out the smaller plants. The soil will be packed harder and it will be more difficult for new seeds to take root. Once you finally mow the section you've "conserved" will look considerably sicker than the rest of your lawn. Not only that, if you didn't mow it and the grass died off in the fall (as grass tends to do) you would have a fire hazard. If you leave that old dead grass and let next years grass grow through it, the plants will be even fewer the following season. The build up of old grass will increase each season until it either prevents most new grass growth or the whole thing goes up in flames.

We're used to the flames out here. Every year thousands of acres burn. Usually the burns take root in areas with dead wood (trees that died but are left standing) or in range land that has an overabundance of dead grass. Because of the fires we now live with emissions testing here in the valley. The emissions testing doesn't do a darn thing to improve our air quality (since the majority of bad air quality days are due to forest and range fires around us). Federal regulators believe if we just control the human element the air will miraculously improve. I don't think the federal regulators realize that even if all the humans died and our cars composted the lightning would still rain down, the winds would still blow, and the range lands would still burn. Grazing is the only effective tool we have to slow or prevent wildfires.

For this reason alone I can never support a person running for office that wants federal officials to control Idaho lands instead of Idahoans. We live here. We want the environment to be healthy and productive. It's not in our best interests to abuse our resources. WE LIVE HERE.

What I've been doing instead of blogging

This is the quilt I made for my mother-in-law. It should have been a simple project that took about a week to complete (with kids and dogs and husband around). I had a few problems with my new sewing machine and it took a wee bit longer than that. My SIL Pam and Chris helped with the tying. It's not a total work of art or anything, but I made do with what I had instead of buying new material and I am pleased with it (although I would have chosen aqua instead of yellow if I'd had the option to buy new). I was told a long time ago that the motto of quilting is, "Use it up, wear it out, make do or do without." Depression era quilters would certainly have been amazed that quilters now have the option of buying jelly rolls and layer cakes of fabric that's already cut to speed up the quilt making process.

My beef with the public school system

More than 100 years ago Maria Montessori got it right. She believed that children learned through spontaneous self-development. If the right environment was provided for children to experience different challenges and learn new skills they would excell in ways that traditional education can't compete with. She also believed that grouping children by major growth periods was better than grouping them by 1 year intervals. In other words she instituted a multi-age, child directed classroom. A study in the Journal of Science in Sept. of 2006 upheld the belief that Montessori educated children do better academically and socially than their peers educated in traditional public schools.

I was a Montessori educated child. I taught myself to read when I was 4. My mother went back to school. She didn't have enough time to spend hours reading to me during the week. It made me mad. So... I showed her! I taught myself to read. Looking back, I'm sure that the hours I spent in school taught me many of the skills I needed to put it all together and really read. The teachers also took turns during the week choosing our language of the day. One teacher spoke Spanish with us, another spoke German, and yet another spoke English. We didn't just learn a few words or phrases of each language; we spent most of the day speaking to our teachers and our friends in whichever language was chosen for that day. Our teachers fostered mental flexibility and taught us to seek challenges rather than boredom.

And therein lies my beef with the public school system. Conformity seems to be the word of the day. If you're different there are all sorts of interventions the school's willing to help you with in order to make you more normal. If a student is falling behind the class there is help available to assist them with catching up. It's all very nice and seems to be in the students best interest but what I see is that the final result is to make everybody the same.

We are not all the same and it is damaging to believe we should be. I was an advanced student. That should be a good thing, right? In reality it was horrible. Being advanced meant that I got to do the same kind of homework for weeks while the rest of the class caught up. Hours worth of busy work, no challenge except to keep from turning my homework into paper airplanes and sailing them out the classroom door. In the beginning I loved school. By the time I graduated I was skipping more days than I attended. Of course, I was advanced so I manipulated the system so that most of the skipped days were school excused, but the reality is that I attended only 80 days of my senior year. Imagine how much better a student, and how much better a work ethic, would have been developed in an environment that rewarded individuality and provided constant challenge and opportunity for growth.

The school system (at least around here) is broken. It's not the fault of the teachers. They do an amazing job within the guidelines they're given. I believe that each and every person I've encountered in the Nampa School District truly cares about my child and wants to help him. I also believe that if they do get to help him become "more like his typical peers" they'll break him. There's an underlying belief that if we can just get everybody to the same level of (insert something here) the world will be a shiny, happy place and we'll all live happily ever after.

My son is different. He thinks at a different rate of speed, in different directions, and about different subjects than his "typical peers." Different isn't bad. It isn't even less than optimal. It's just different. He isn't broken, we don't need to fix him. We just need to help him learn. Amazingly, spontaneous self-development occurs when you allow a child to pursue his own interests in an environment that's supportive and rich in stimuli. Who would've thought it?

My grandfather, mother, and I are all scientists by education. By trade I'm a mother and dog person. By trade my mother is a microbiologist and my grandfather was a leader in the field of micology and forest pathology. I keep hearing that America is falling behind the pack when it comes to science and math. I'm not sure what education looks like in the countries with the best outcomes in these fields (ooh! research project!!) but I bet it doesn't look like American education today.

Successful scientists question. They don't follow the pack. They are amazing problem solvers. Clear linear thinking is required to insure that the scientific process is followed (and your results are solid). Abstract leaps of logic are required to tackle problems that no one has ever solved before. Einstein was not a normal student. Luckily he found good mentors who helped him in his education while he was still very young. It wasn't the school system that developed Albert's mind and love and learning. It was that amazing ideal espoused by Maria Montessori, spontaneous self-development. What if Einstein were "helped" to fit in better with his peers? Would he have followed the incredible road that led to his many discoveries in the realm of physics? Or would he have worked harder to learn basketball, to dress, and act, and talk like the other kids in his class? Would he have accepted that his classmates were his peers? Or would he have continued his quest for information and understanding that allowed him to meet his true peers?

Conformity makes it easier for those in charge to stay in control. In a school system that lacks parental involvement (even though the school welcomes parents, most don't visit regularly) the teachers either need a new method for teaching or they need the majority of the students to be somewhat similiar in learning styles and needs. Heaven forbid we shake the system up enough to try something like Maria Montessori's education model. A world without grades, the sky would fall!

Prayer Requests

What a week. My mother-in-law had surgery on Wednesday. She seems to be recovering well although she's still in pain and not feeling like her usual self.

Our neighbor went hunting for a couple of weeks and had a cousin stay and house sit at her place. Sometime last Tuesday her cat disappeared. Laurie loves her animals like I love my children and she just wants to know what happened to her cat. If he died she'd like to find out and if he's alive she'd like to get him back and care for him.

One of my friends called last night to tell me she was in labor and is staying in the hospital for awhile. Her baby's at 27 weeks gestation. Although we'd all like to meet her they're hoping she waits a couple more months before entering the world. There just isn't much that's scarier than not knowing if your child's going to be healthy.

It is a brisk and rainy morning here in Nampa and we did not go to church. I am trying to finish Pat's quilt and vacuum dog hair off our bright red carpet. At 9:30 this morning I put the makings of vegetable beef soup in the crock-pot and later I'll make some rolls to take with the soup for Jennifer's family.

Relief Society is one of the wonders of the modern world (in my opinion). It is at times like this that I wish all communities had a Relief Society (not just Mormons). Today I need to begin calling moms in our 4-H club and trying to line up help for Jennifer's family for as long as her family needs help (I'm thinking it's going to be about 2 months). There is way too much to be done for the entire burden to rest on one person. Her husband is amazing about caring for all 3 of their existing children, but by Tuesday he needs to be back to work. Tomorrow he's working from home, but with three children that's an awfully difficult way to complete your work. I'll help all I can, but my primary duty is to my own family... so here I am, back at the idea of Relief Society. We're Lutheran and while Lutherans are wonderful people they don't have an organization whose main purpose is caring for families in times of need. The infrastructure isn't the same and it's a bit more difficult to get the ball rolling and arrange for many people to share the burden of caring for a family. I'm sure it can be done. In fact, I'm sure it will be done. I'm just not sure how and when it will be done.

So, my wish for today is that anyone reading this post include my mother-in-law Pat, my neighbor Laurie, and my friend Jennifer in your prayers.

Unschooling... what the heck?!?

When I decided to homeschool I did a lot of research. I talked with other parents. I talked with teachers. I looked at tons of different curriculum. I planned and I organized and I bought books, workbooks, paper, manipulatives, art supplies, and chairs for the classroom. Yes, I was ready for the school year to begin.

During my time researching I came across a disturbing trend called "unschooling." Unschoolers believe that by immersing their children in a rich and diverse environment they will magically absorb everything they need to know... because children are curious. What the heck? What sort of education is that? Don't these people understand that we need more structure than that?

So we officially started school on Sept. 2nd. It's been great. Really. We're enjoying the freedom of staying home or going out. Chris is excelling because he can work at his own pace. The housework gets a bit behind but then every so often we take a day off and clean house. That's a lesson too, right?

Want to know a secret? The only curriculum we're following anymore is for math. We do math first thing in the morning and then spend the rest of the day doing whatever strikes our fancy. Really. Today we researched ship building. Chris finished his math during breakfast. The manipulatives for math were great to build pretend ships with. He and Sam built ships for about an hour. Then we looked up ships online. Now I think they're in the kitchen drawing ships. I think we're going to learn more about the time period when the great naval explorers like Columbus and Magellan lived. None of that was in my carefully planned lessons at the beginning of the year. None of it.

I think we may be unschoolers. How did this happen? What do I do? Do I admit it, or do I continue wondering about the sanity of these unschooling parents? Hmmm... perhaps I can just say my child has Aspergers and this is his current fascination. I don't have to admit it doesn't fit into the first grade curriculum do I? There we go... we aren't unschoolers. It's simply that my son's unique abilities and challenges force us in this direction. Or maybe... just maybe... there's something to that belief that a child's curiousity will cause them to learn everything they need if you just give them a little direction and support.

The things I put up with

This morning Jake (he's almost 3) came and sat on my lap. He kept opening his mouth and trying to show me something. I couldn't see anything of note going on so I asked him what I could do to help him. He kept mumbling something with his mouth wide open. I finally got him to look at me and quit showing me his mouth. What was he saying? "There's hiccups in my mouf!!!" He thought I could get the hiccups out. I have grown shorter in the eyes of my child. I cannot get the hiccups out of his mouth.

Friends

Lately I've spent some time thinking about my best friend. This isn't all that unusual since we speak several times a week, but it's been a long time since I've thought about why we are friends. I live in Idaho. I was born in Idaho. I attended Idaho schools. I like Idaho. Unlike a lot of Idahoans I did live in New Mexico and Washington for years at a time. I liked the other states too.

Amy lives in Nevada. She was born in Minnesota. She spent years living in Virginia and Idaho. She liked Virginia. I'm not sure she liked Idaho, but she did attend high school and college in Idaho schools.

We met in 9th grade reading (actually we met briefly in 8th grade when I hit her in the head with my locker door). It turns out we both like to read trashy romance novels (I mean we read nothing of value most of the time). Neither of us had spent our entire lives in the town of Nampa... so we weren't welcomed with open arms by the community of Nampa. We also were not Mormon or Nazarene. For a long time the interests we shared were more about the things that made us different from our classmates than the similarities we shared in other areas.

I have to laugh when I think back to what we were like when we first met. Amy never wore jeans. I think she owned one pair, but I never did see her wear them. She was always dressed in skirts or slacks and a few people thought maybe she went to private school because she was always so well dressed. She is also what you could call diminutive in stature (a few of us would say short). The other day she reminded me that she still doesn't reach the 5' mark. Quiet, Amy is quiet. She is so quiet and well behaved that many people think she may be kind of dull, passive, or slow... she is none of those things. It's easy to underestimate her because she looks so innocent; those of us who know her realize she is a person to beware of if you are on opposite sides of the fence.

While I tend to be outspoken and have a lamentable lack of tact, Amy is reserved and always seems to consider what she's saying before voicing an opinion. When she does voice her opinion it's always well considered and she can annhialate an opponent in just a few sentences. In college she got her ethics professor fired. They didn't see quite eye to eye when it came to interpreting philosophy. Well... he wasn't very bright, she got tired of being marked down on tests when her answers were just as correct as his answers. Here's a hint for any professors who may read this: When a student protests a test score and brings assigned literature for the course to prove her answers- you should double check your scoring and answer key.

Amy is a liberal (yes, probably even a bleeding heart liberal). I like her anyway. We probably wouldn't enjoy each other as much if we saw eye to eye on everything. It's no fun debating with someone who shares your viewpoint. The thrill is in debating with someone who makes you stretch and learn. It's also no fun debating with someone who takes it personally if you have a different viewpoint. I'm sure we both laugh about the other person's politics but we do it to each other's faces. Once in a while the opposing side does say something that's worth thinking over. If you only ever debate politics with like minded people you won't learn nearly as much.

When we were in high school I used to drive Amy home after school. A little more than 15 years later it still makes me smile to remember making her ride in my old blue 3/4 ton Ford pickup. It was always full of bits of hay and smelled faintly of sheep and horses. There frequently were remnants of manure on the floor. That old truck had an 8-track tape player. I had a whole box of old Chris LeDoux 8-tracks. I'd play them loud just for Amy to enjoy (of course she was more into George Winston's piano solos, or Barbara Striesand, or Manheim Steamroller). It was so much fun teasing her.

I never did reach one of my goals. Amy was so prim and proper, I always wanted to get a picture of her wearing irrigation boots. She was good though and always managed to kick them off before I could get the camera ready. There is no evidence to show our children that she ever did wear those boots. But I know she did. We definately were very different from each other 15 years ago.

Now we are 33 years old (Amy's almost 34!!!). Our interests are much more similiar now than they were back when we first became friends. Today we both cook and craft. We have children around the same age. Amy sometimes wears jeans, I sometimes wear skirts, and both of us shop at Land's End.

Some things are still the same. She's still a liberal. I am perhaps even more conservative now than I was then. Our families still make us laugh (or cry). And we still read nothing with intellectual merit.