It was ugly...

It was very ugly. Somehow I always overestimate the time it will take the turkey to cook. This year I used a newer (mid 1990's version) Betty Crocker Christmas Cookbook to look up the roasting time for a seventeen pound turkey. In the past I've used one of our Better Homes and Gardens Cookbooks (copyrights in 1953 and 1962). Since appliances have changed a bit in the last fifty or sixty years I thought that new technology might explain why the turkey was always done waaaaayyyy before I was ready for it.

Apparently that's not the case. This year I used the old roaster (probably circa 1950) and paired it with the roasting time listed in a more modern cookbook (and yes, I did take care to look up roasting times for unstuffed, empty birds). I was late getting the bird in the roaster. Planned time was 12:00. Actual beginning of roasting time was 12:40. The bird was frozen in the middle and I had to fight to get the guts out. It also took forever to preheat the roaster. When I peeked in the handy little glass window on top of the roaster at 3:30 this is what I found.





Thank goodness we don't worry about the bird's appearance since we don't carve at the table. Luckily we always roast the turkey breast down, which does not create a beautiful browned breast, but it does make the turkey super moist and delicious. If only parts and pieces of the bird are going to leave the kitchen and head to the table I'd rather they be moist, delicious pieces. Why is the orientation (breast up or breast down) important? Why, it's because the internal temperature of the thickest meat on that bird was 220 degrees at 3:45. And the bird is done at 180 degrees. Thank goodness we had the breast and legs down where all the backfat basted the meat and kept it moist. That bird sure was ugly and it was way overcooked.

It looked beautiful sliced on a platter and it tasted terrific. Only I (and now you) know how close it was to being a disaster (especially since dinner was served at 5).

It's a.... what the heck is it?

Oh my goodness!!! It's a skunk dog!!!

We had our house painted last month. Jazzmine helped. She painted both sides of herself from shoulder to hip. What the pictures don't show very well is that the edges of both ears and the tip of her tail are painted as well. Too bad we didn't have a freshly painted white board for her to run under and stripe the top of her back.

This is Claire the Super Puppy vs. Optimus Prime. I think Claire probably won that battle.

I love wine

I do. I really, really love wine. I haven't drunk much of it since I had children (something in my metabolism changed and now it makes me very, very hot when I drink) but I do like it. When I was in college I could drink 2 or 3 glasses in an evening with no ill effect, not even intoxication (unless I chugged them all in a row). I am now a half glass girl. Any more than that and I am loopy as can be... loopy doesn't work when you have kids to care for.

Wine has always been part of my family's celebrations. When I was very young Grandpa had just retired from the military where alcohol features at all social events and most evenings at home were not complete without a tipple. By the time I was in junior high my favorite uncle had bought into a small local winery. Many afternoons were spent visiting the tasting rooms and vineyards of the local wineries. Southwest Idaho now has it's own geographical designation like the Champagne region in France. Wineries are plentiful and the cultivation of the vines and chemistry of fermentation have always fascinated me.

In college I was blessed with roommates who didn't drink. It was a treat to be able to order a drink at dinner or have a beer at a party and know (really know, not just think) that I had a sober ride home. The funniest roommate/drinking incident that ever happened involved my Mormon roommate- Angela. She was always taking my open bottles of wine out of the fridge whenever I left for the weekend. Apparently she was worried one of her friends from church would come over and think the wine was hers. This was a little bit annoying, but not nearly as annoying as the weekend I came home and found out that she'd used up all of my tequila and rum making margaritas and daiquiris for the guys hanging out at our neighbor's apartment.

I think she was a little bit interested in our male friends. One of them was a devout Catholic. The other one was Mormon. On the surface the Mormon (Jack Mormon that he was) may have seemed like a likely conquest for a good Mormon girl. She maybe should have payed more attention when we called him "my sexually suspect friend." To make a long story short... I don't think either man was likely to convert and become a good prospect for her.

Shoot, my kids have found me and now I must go fix them something to eat. This post has absolutely no deep meaning hidden in it except... I am thankful for the freedom to eat and drink what I wish and enjoy the holiday with family and friends. I am also thankful for Uncle George- bringer of the "good" wine, since my budget tops out at $9.00 a bottle.!

Fate

It never pays to think you've outwitted fate. Never. My whole family caught colds a couple weeks ago. Not me. I didn't get sick when they did. They all started feeling (and looking) better and I congratulated myself on avoiding the nasty little germs. Until late last week. This cold has kicked my rear. I look in briefly on my blog day after day thinking that I really need to write something... but the only thought going through my head is: Gahhh (whimpering softly). Today I feel much more human (although I kind of feel sloth-like too).

We went to a birthday party on Saturday. I volunteered to bake and decorate the cake so we had to go. The birthday family was counting on the cake. My children were counting on getting to attend a party. I was hoping there would be nap time at the party and babysitting service.

Good news. The cake was edible and the decorating, while not top shelf, was passable. There was no nap time or babysitter available but my children behaved themselves and blended seamlessly into the brood of wild Indians running about the house and yard. The lamb was fresh (butchered that morning). The food was interesting and edible (featuring Uzbek culinary delights). The party attendees were varied in age and interest. No one's coats/shoes/valued possessions disappeared, never to be seen again, during the course of the event. All in all it was a success.

Sunday I slept. Dave took the kids to dinner at his parents' house and I got to stay home all by myself (with Grandma). It's been years since I've been left home alone (literally). Maybe since I was a good girl and didn't get into any trouble my husband will leave me home alone again sometime (soon, I hope!).

Still here

I am still here. It may not seem like it since I haven't updated my blog since last week, but I am still here, still reading other people's blogs, still chasing children and cleaning up after puppies. If I could find my camera I'd post a picture of either the children or the puppies, but alas... I think Sam played with it... somewhere.... hopefully somewhere safe and dry.

The puppies turned six weeks old yesterday so I will begin advertising them next week. My goal is to find them all homes between 8 and 12 weeks of age. This week I need to vaccinate everybody and buy MORE food. I cannot believe how darn much food those little dogs go through. It was just last week (I think) that I purchased 60 pounds of puppy food. Tonight it is all gone. Tonight I need to go shopping.

We have a new cloverbud member in our 4-H club. He's going to be taking a rabbit project. This brings our total up to 4 kids with rabbits (confirmed- there may be 3 or 4 others who haven't committed for sure yet). Of those 4 kids, 3 are boys. This is unusual. Most of the time girls in 4-H outnumber boys about 3:1. Girls in the rabbit project usually outnumber boys about 20:1. It also looks as if all three boys may be on the Autism Spectrum. None of us knew each other before the year began. These are random boys who've found their way into our club and into our project. And now 75% of my members are males who most likely have Asperger's Syndrome or something very similar.

It's a very strange world and that small world is still supporting my suspicion that AS may not truly be a disorder or disability. I think that odd parents raise odd children and we should just accept that and stop trying to make everybody "normal." It's not as if the normal's are all that wonderful most of the time anyway. Possibly the scientist's and engineers among us are truly wired differently neurologically and we should respect the difference and quit trying to make them into social butterflies. It's important to have enough social skills to get through a job interview and not offend your neighbors (unless it's necessary to offend the neighbors... some neighbors could use a good offense). It's not really all that important that you can chit chat with strangers who you may never see again.

We all have our strengths and we should play to them. Our weaknesses should not define us or our children. If you have horrible handwriting you probably shouldn't be looking for a job doing calligraphy. If greeting the public is hard for you then a career in customer service probably isn't in your future. However, if as you vacuum the carpet you begin speculating about the volume and mass of dust a career in nuclear science may be in your future. There are always tradeoffs.

Remember

Elmer Canfield was my maternal grandfather. I remember him as the kind, gentle, loving man who wasn't quite sure what to do with a little girl... so he taught me to prepare specimens for examination under a microscope. By the time I came along he was a college professor specializing in fungi and forest pathology. Much of our time together involved hiking and being outdoors, gardening, raising hay (literally), irrigating, identifying weeds, riding horses, and looking up to see the airplanes flying overhead.

One of my final memories of him occured on the day he was being sent home from the hospital- to die. He asked us to watch out for Grandma and make sure she was taken care of. He told us, with tears not quite falling from his eyes, that he always believed it was wrong for his bride to have to take out her own garbage. Death wasn't something he feared, but leaving his bride alone was. At the time of his death they had been married for just over 60 years.

Grandma thought his concern for her well being over his own was a little bit silly since there were times even while they were married that she had, for all intents and purposes, been alone. One of the most troubled periods of time was while he was a P.O.W. in Germany. All these years she has kept the telegrams she recieved over the course of the year he was in a prisoner of war camp.

Reading these telegrams reminds me that the veterans we celebrate today are real people. It's easy to take for granted the freedoms we enjoy. Some here may complain of racism, or sexism, or other -isms but in reality we are very lucky to live in the United States. As a parent I hope that none of my children ever have to go to war. I hope that the world is all sunshine and roses and world peace occurs. But we all know that world peace isn't going to happen. There will continue to be times of conflict. Backing down from conflict by compromising whenever other countries don't approve of us is a surefire way to lose the freedoms my grandfather and so many others fought and even died for.

It's our duty to act as stewards of freedom for the next generation. War is ugly. We certainly shouldn't go out looking for a fight, but we can't turn the other cheek when the fight comes looking for us. Too many lives were lost, families scattered, when soldiers fought first to free us from English rule and later to preserve the Union. WWII was not fought on American soil, but our presence there was important in preserving our own freedom none the less. Genocide and tyranny are not small issues to be overlooked in an effort to preserve the peace. Peace gained through pacifism, surrending our freedoms in an effort to avoid a fight, is not peace. It's an invitation for tyranny to come live in our land.

Today remember what was sacrificed.

Remember the men and women who gave up everything to fight for us.

Remember that today you can safely walk into the religious institution of your choice whether it's a church, synagogue, mosque, or fairy circle. Remember that I can write (and so can you) in criticism of our government without fear of reprisal. Remember that we can own firearms to use for procurement of food as well as protection of life and property. Remember that you can choose how to educate your children, how to discipline your children, and how many children you will welcome into your family. Remember that all people are equal in the eyes of God and should be equal under the law as well.

Remember that our veterans are people just like us, with families like ours. They are people who loved as deeply we do, cared as much for their children as we do.

Remember that the men and women who sacrificed for us think our freedom is not just worth fighting for, it is worth sacrificing everything for.

Remember.

Is this information relevant?

Last Monday I took Chris to see a pediatric developmental specialist, one of three people in the valley reputed to be accurate at diagnosing autism spectrum disorders. Before the appointment we received several different questionnaires to fill out and return. Chris's school (where he still goes for speech therapy) sent in their own battery of tests and assessments. Everything had to be back to the office at least one week before the appointment. Since we scheduled back in June to take the first available appointment (yes, it was November 3) there weren't many problems completing our paperwork in time.

The doctor spent about 15 minutes interviewing Chris and me and then he looked at his little computer, cleared his throat and said, "Well it looks like Asperger's, although it could be a Pervasive Developmental Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified. Asperger's by definition is not diagnosed when language delay is present..." To which I said, "Speech and language are different things and Chris has never had issues processing language, just forming sounds."

It was all very civil. After making his pronouncement the doctor asked if I had any questions. Of course I did (shocking, no?). I asked about homeschool versus public school. He said it was a personal choice and he didn't have an opinion. I asked about social interaction. He told me that usually he recommended that school was a good place to learn social skills but he understood we were from Nampa... and some schools are better than others when it comes to dealing with developmental disorders.

Hmmm. Isn't it interesting that even the medical community in Boise has heard that Nampa schools are not the greatest? I sit here laughing because I can not count the number of times I've said something to the effect of, "I'd keep Chris in school if we lived in Meridian or Kuna..." It's not that I don't have a great appreciation for the teachers and therapists Chris and Sam have worked with in the Nampa School District. I love them all. To a person they have been kind, caring, compassionate, well educated, and hemmed in by the quirky policies of the Nampa School District.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could just do away with the entire district hierarchy, leaving only the principals and school faculty and staff in place? If that ever came to pass I'd seriously consider re-enrolling Chris in the elemenary school. His IEP team last year recommended that we pursue the option of dual enrollment. He could learn the academic subjects at home where he's less distracted and better able to focus. He could go to school for the part of the day "specials" are taught and do his speech therapy, p.e. (always important, don't you think?), art, music, library, and computer lab. It sounded like the best of both worlds. He'd still get the social interaction (which is only so very important if you have a social disorder) and he'd get to experience some subjects on a scale that I'm really not able to reproduce at home (my form of p.e. is to put in the YogaKids video).

Then the school year started. His therapist reluctantly told me that the district has changed it's policies for this year. Chris would qualify for speech therapy if we used a service plan and said he was enrolled in private school (which homeschool is). Chris could also have dual enrollment and attend specials. He could not be dual enrolled and keep his speech therapy. Does that make any sense to anybody?

The therapist has been working on finding a compromise ever since. On Wed. the psycologist who was on our IEP team recommended I call the district office and start asking questions (I've been pretty passive since I really feed off the energy generated by confrontation... it's a bit addictive so I try to avoid it all together). I called. The lady in charge of special education told me that we'd need to form a 504 team and that if that team determined speech therapy was needed they could write it into the 504 plan (a 504 simply outlines any special accomodations that need to be made within the classroom for the time a student is present in class). Interesting, no? So I called our SLP and passed the info I recieved onto her. She said that is not what the district's been telling her and if they're willing to bend this far she'll confirm as soon as possible and try to get Chris dual enrolled as soon as possible.

So, back to my initial question. Is the diagnosis we recieved on Monday relevant information? I expected that once we had (or did not have) a diagnosis everything would change. And it didn't. The doctor did give me some ideas for curriculum to try and websites to visit to purchase curriculum well suited to children with Asperger's. He told us that Chris seemed to be doing well and to continue with what we're doing and check in again in six months.

It took a long time for me to be willing to go through the testing and get a diagnosis. I was so worried that my child would be labeled and people (especially teachers) would look at him differently. Now that we're homeschooling that doesn't seem to be much of an issue. It also took this long for me to realize the most important consideration when it came to diagnosing my son... a diagnosis doesn't change who his is. He wasn't broken before we had a name to call his quirky traits. He isn't broken now that we do have a name for those silly tendencies like fascination with smells and rabbits.

In essence, nothing has changed since last Monday. There are not a slew of new ideas or people running to show us how to "deal" with this unique child. He's doing well. I guess we'll keep doing what we've been doing... which is loving him and praising him and cherishing him for all the things that make him unique and special. Wouldn't everybody love to have someone in their house with a map of their surrounding permanently imprinted on their brain? Shouldn't we all take time to really smell the flowers (and rain, and wood shavings, and kitchen spices, and crayons, and...)?

We're so racist

Ok, I admit it. We are racist. Color matters to us. No one wants to eat off the pink plate. The yellow puppies get ignored because everyone who visits wants to play with the black puppies. The poor yellow toys and craft supplies get tossed aside in favor of green or red.

In the course of raising our three boys I've always tried to celebrate diversity and emphasize the value of all colors. Despite my best efforts the segregation and downright discrimination continue. It has reached the point that the yellow birthday balloon was popped... on purpose. The green and red balloons were mutilated by cutting their strings off so that other brothers couldn't play with them. Even the favored colors suffer when racism runs rampant.

I don't know what to do about it. My room is a collage of lavendar, purple, green, red, blue, orange, and yes... even yellow. My wardrobe is similiarly diverse (although it leans heavily towards the orange/red/pink end of the spectrum). Never have my children heard me express the opinion that one color is better than the other colors. Never have I rejected an object based on color (and you should have seen some of our early couches!). Yet, the racism persists. I can't even blame it on the horrid public school children (you know, since we homeschool).

Pink plates, cups, mugs, saucers, elephants of the world unite! This favoritsm towards other colors must end! The kitchen cupboard is the first place to begin uniting the color spectrum. Please think of the children.... buy brownish gray sludge colored dishes... they combine the best (and worst) of all the colors!

Seriously, if I have to listen to any more whining about the pink plate I will paint the dishes brown.

The Dawn of a New Age

Yikes! It's official. The Democrats pretty much won the entire election. This scares me a bit, not because the President is a Democrat, but because when one party controls the White House and both branches of the Congress it also means they are not far away from gaining control of the judicial branch of our government as well. I would be just as concerned if it were the Republicans in power. It's just not healthy for one political party to wield that much power.

Historically speaking it would have been a major upset if the Republicans had retained control of the presidency. Never in the history of democracy has the current party remained in power when a recession occurred during their term of office. Not just in the United States, but in every democratic country in the world history shows us that the people punish the people in power and move to change everything when election time rolls around. In a time of economic prosperity they reward the people in office and elect them to another term. This holds true whether political policy is shown to impact the economy or not.

Interestingly, we can chart the economy and predict when the next upswing or recession will occur... it doesn't matter who's in office or what the rest of the world is doing... the economy follows the same cycle over and over again. It may vary by a couple years but for the most part we know there will be recessions and there will be times of prosperity. The important lesson we need to take from that knowledge is that the times of abundance will end and the times of trial will end as well. We just need to ride it out, be personally responsible with our finances, and expect the boom and bust trends to continue. Our economy is never static. It's always waning and waxing. Citizens tend to make decisions based on the situation of the moment, not looking ahead to better (or worse) times that are sure to come.

Those who don't understand history are doomed to repeat it.

Happy November!

My eldest child turned 7 on Saturday. It doesn't seem possible that the perfect little being I grew inside me is now over 4 feet tall, weighs close to 70 pounds, knows at least 25 breeds of rabbits by sight, can fix breakfast for the whole family by himself, can diagram a female reproductive tract (don't ask), is conversant on the techniques necessary to revive breech birth puppies and goats that aren't breathing at parturition, builds awesome Lego houses, and can tell highly detailed stories about Mr. Ferret and all his friends.



Both Dave and I had friends who were having fertility problems and so when we got married we decided that it might be best if we started trying to have children soon... just in case we couldn't... then we'd still be young enough to adopt if we needed to. Interestingly, we didn't have fertility problems (except possibly an overabundance of fertility) and the first month we tried the little stick developed two hot pink lines before I even got the cap all the way back on the "absorbent tip."



Our anniversary is November 4th. Chris' birthday is November 1st. When we started trying to have a baby I read that the average couple takes about six months to get pregnant. I figured that six months would give me time to: 1) lose weight; 2) finish writing thank you notes for wedding gifts; 3) unpack all the junk in boxes left over from combining two lives; 4) spend a bit of time alone together as a married couple before starting our family. We started trying in January.


On March 6th, 2001 I was somewhere like day 43 of my cycle. If you haven't recieved a thank you note yet for a lovely present you gave us at our wedding... please accept my sincere apologies for being late and know that we love and cherish the towels/crock pot/bakeware/salt and pepper shakers/blanket/placemats/magnetic letters you thoughtfully gave us as we started our life together. My memory and attention span took a hard hit as soon as I got pregnant and I still haven't found the list of presents and thank you cards. To this day it bothers me because I know some people did not get properly thanked. Thank you.

Chris joined our family a couple weeks early (thank God!). Our lives haven't been the same since. His sincere questions, creative mind and hands, sunny smile, and love of books bring joy to our home every day of the year. I can't even imagine how we'd find anything if I didn't have such a competent navigator giving advice and providing directions to local stores, schools, friend's houses, and churches. The Lego horses are also truly awesome. Happy seventh birthday to my oldest son!

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