This Election Year Is Driving Me Crazy

And you'll notice I don't post about politics.

But this... THIS.

I know voting is ALWAYS the lesser of the evils.

But I'm having trouble wanting to vote for ANYONE.

Note To Self...

... and any other sewing friends,

NEVER BUY RED FLANNEL

It's from the devil.

One normal wash, and three hot washes later, and the color-catcher is STILL coming out pink.

Fortunately, I didn't buy it.

My sis gave me a big (new) fitted sheet she didn't want,

so FREE :D

So far, I've made a table cloth - 

the only one I own that will fit our table with ALL the leaves in-

and as long as I remember to wash it ALONE,

I'm home free.

But I had in mind to use a big chunk I have left as the backing for a baby quilt,

but on second thought...

MAYBE NOT!

Back to the drawing board...

Virga, Laundry, the Lake and a PSA

I had great intentions of being Very Productive on Saturday, and that went well through the morning.

I'll have you know that it was so hot, I did EIGHT loads of laundry.

(I know, I know, hold your applause.)

It was so hot I could hang one load of laundry and find it just about dry when the next load was done.

Meanwhile, I looked up and saw this:

In case you don't recognize those clouds, they're Virga.  Basically it's raining, way up there, but the rain is evaporating before it hits the ground.

I called the boys out to see because the clouds looked so weird, and not a drop hit the ground.

Load #4 and #5 were safe.

The clouds passed right over and the sun shone.

And shone and shone until I called my parents and asked if we could come to the lake, because - people - it was 88F in the shade.

And I know you southerners have more stamina for heat than we do, and you can laugh all you want (and you probably should) because - no kidding - our local news feeds are posting instructions for "How to Cool Your House" (because no AC) and "First Aid for Heat Stroke" and "RED FLAG RED FLAG RED FLAG - County-Wide Burn Ban" like nobody here can remember last year's wildfires.

So we went to the lake, and I didn't bring my camera, but it looked about like it did last time we went.

And I'm posting all these photos here because just looking at them makes me feel cooler,

hallelujah and amen.

And one last thing, a little Public Service Announcement because it's actually cloudy at the moment:

Lightening is the opposite of darkening (think Michael Jackson)

Lightning is that bolt of electricity in the sky.

That will be all.

So, Riddle Me This...

Remember the poodles from a few days ago?  They were at it again, last night.

GRRRRRRR.

We had yappy poodles next door when I was a kid, and (when the owners didn't do anything) my parents would squirt them with the hose to shut them up, but these dogs are out of reach.  But HELLO, did you know you can look up phone numbers by address?  I mean, at least I could leave a message, so when the owner comes home she'll know the dogs are a nuisance.

So I called.

"It's almost eleven o'clock and your poodles are yapping.  And yapping.  And yapping.  Again.  If you leave them home alone, could you please shut them IN the house where we won't hear them.  Thanks."

And magically, minutes later, the yapping stopped.

On the one hand, thank you for dealing with the problem.

On the other hand...

That means she was home.

Listening to hear dogs yap at 11pm,

doing nothing about it,

until I called to complain.

Y'know, when I was growing up, one of my mom's favorite phrases was Be considerate.  Consider other people.

I'm telling' ya, it's a lost art.

That's Not Charity

When You Give

When you give a gift, you GIVE it.

You release it.

You let it go.

And you don't try to control it any more.

Otherwise you should just keep it.

Love/Hate...

... describes my relationship with Costco.  Maybe it's because I seem to be missing the shopping gene common to so many women.  Therefore Costco rocks because - hey! -  if I can get three times as much laundry detergent at once, I won't have to go buy it again for three times as long, right?  What's not to love?

Well, you see, due to where we live, shopping at Costco is a cross-cultural experience.  And let me tell you there are a whole lot of people who need some education and training on assimilating into the North American shopping modus operandi.  For instance...

*  Please, if you want to bring your entire extended family shopping with you, do not meander slowly through the aisles walking six abreast.  Single file, people.  Or at least walk in pairs.

*  Further, if you want to have a big family discussion about an item you've just discovered, pull your cart and your family off to the side where you're not blocking everyone else.  I know, in your eyes we're all lowly peasants and unworthy of your consideration, but news flash - we don't think much of you either.

*  You look particularly wretched when we see you using your women like beasts of burden and attempting to treat the (female) store employees that way.  No, nobody here is going to carry your two hundred gallons of milk out for you.  Man up and do it yourself.


On the other hand, I was oh-so-happy to have two cheerful and helpful young men with me (the third was at school), who were happy to fetch and carry along with me.  They pushed two over-loaded carts all through the store and out to the van, and then executed some sort of tetris maneuver to fit everything in.

And oh my word... when you combine three, hungry, growing boys with a somewhat shopping-averse mom, you know what you get?  Among other things...

4 dozen eggs
4 pounds of fish sticks
4 pork roasts
4 pizzas
4 pounds of butter
6 pounds of craisins
10 pounds of frozen veggies
10 pounds of cheese
12 rolls of paper towels
12 pounds of frozen chicken
18 pounds of white and brown sugar
18 pounds of peanut butter
15 boxes of mac and cheese
24 cans of veggies
96 rolls of toilet paper
150+ granola bars

And probably a partridge in a pear tree, among the ketchup, laundry detergent, refried beans, fruit, and aluminum foil.

And that was my exciting day.  Don't you wish you were me?!

Things I Cannot Explain...

Wyatt is winding up a semester at school this week.  I can (and regularly do) check his progress online. He knows this.  We talk about how things are going.

So when I saw the D+ I was a little surprised.

He'd written an essay - a comparison paper - based on the two "books" they've read in English class.  And I use the term "books" rather loosely as the first, while it is a chapter book, is labeled 4.0 (which means the text could be read independently by the average student beginning fourth grade), and the second was a comic book (3.3 - third grade, third month).

To be fair, there are some wonderful books written at that level.  C.S. Lewis' Narnia series comes to mind, or the Redwall books.  Writing that draws you in through wonderful story-telling and vivid description.  Themes that encourage you to be better, or that challenge your thinking.  Not so these books.  Blech.  Playground vernacular at best.  And it's not as if the subject matter corresponds to the reading level (violence, profanity, racism, masturbation, alcoholism, etc.) either.  Yikes.

So Wyatt wrote his paper.  I proof-read it and helped him type it up.  I might've given it a C, really, because I thought he missed the larger themes... but I'm an adult, and I can't expect him to see what I see.  Still, the D surprised me, even with the +.

His English teacher has a policy that (if they're meeting deadlines) students can revise their work to get it up to the grade they want, so I "encouraged" Wyatt to have another try at it.  I figured his teacher would've given him some helpful comments, some constructive criticism on his writing.

And you know what it was?  He needed a better topic sentence for one of his paragraphs, and all the rest was formatting.  Indent here, not there.  Too many spaces here, too few there.  Etc.

And that raised his grade to an A.

Really???

I'm not arguing with the value of following instructions.  If the teacher wants your paper formatted a certain way, you do it.  No question.  Get with the program.

But what value does his writing have?

The teacher left NO comments on the content of his paper, or the thought he put into it, to praise or to point out problems.  No challenge to think more deeply.  No encouragement to articulate his thoughts better.  Nothing.

Sigh.

Well, Duh

1.  Yahoo, I hate what you've done to my email.  It's now slow and clunky.  I can't have more than one email open at a time and flip back and forth between them any more.  I can't adjust the font size of what I'm writing.  And Every Single Time I open my email it asks me to choose a theme.  I don't want a theme.  But I finally caved, and picked a theme, just to make you happy.  And you can't remember it.  Every time I open my email it is PURPLE and it asks me to pick a theme.  I did not pick PURPLE.

Please get your act together.


2.  "Green" ≠ Scientifically Sound.  Mr. Grasshopper is an architect.  He gets an architecture magazine in the mail every month.  Normally I avoid reading it as there's nothing in it any sane human would want for a home.  (IOW, it's over the top pretentious and/or just plain weird.)  But I had three minutes to kill while my gourmet dinner (Cup O'Noodles!) reconstituted last night, so I flipped through the latest issue.

You know how packaged food has a nutrition label with the ingredients printed on it?  Yah.  Well the new green thing is to require building products to have a Health Product Declaration, so you know what's in your linoleum (flax oil), your glass (silica/sand), or your fancy-shmancy granite counter-top (granite!)

So this is what the scientific geniuses at the architecture magazine came up with, to explain the concept to their readers:

Health Product Declarations recognize that all building products are made of of basic ingredients which may include chemicals, elements, metals, gases, or liquids. etc.

Good heavens, lets break this down a little.

You're going to build a house.  The things you build it out of have ingredients which may include the listed items, or may not.

*  Chemicals - What is a chemical, anyway?  They seem to terrify the green folk, so they must be something nasty and scary.  Are you ready?  A chemical is a substance with a specific molecular composition.  In other words, a chemical is something made of matter.  So unless you're going to build your house out of pure energy or abstract concepts (and if you'd seen some of these architecture magazines you may wonder...) you're going to be using chemicals.

*  Elements - an element is the simplest form of matter that can't be broken down into anything else.  Elements are the ingredients of the ingredients.  Oxygen.  Calcium.  Nitrogen.  Carbon.  By all means, we must warn the folk that their building materials may be made of elements.

*  Metals - you know, those nails and screws that hold things together?

*  Gases or liquids - what?  What kind of insanity is this?  You mean, there might be liquids in my paint?  

And what the heck - gases or liquids, but no solids?  Maybe that's what they meant by "etc."


Wyatt, who is studying chemistry this year, wants to know if they'll be warning the public about the dangers of Dihiydrogen Monoxide (DHMO). ;D

It's a crazy world.

Wednesday Brain Dump

1.  Up with the birds (5:30am) to get Wyatt off to...

Desert Eagle Flight Encampment.  If you're on facebook, they may be posting pics over the next week and a half.  (I snagged these photos from last year's posts.)  He was SO EXCITED!  I know, he doesn't show it as much now that he's seventeen and all that, but I know he was pumped.

He'll be studying and flying and studying and flying and studying and flying...

... and may even get to solo before his graduation on the 4th.

2.  There are enough boys in my living room (mine as well as neighbors) right now that you wouldn't know one was missing.  They're playing some kind of game (Risk? Axis and Allies?) and probably trying to take over the world.  Boys.

3.  I've been watering some of my plants, and I'm not going to sneak around in spite of my moonbat enviro-mad neighbor.  This is the Pacific North West, for crying out loud.

I know in some areas of the country (and the world) fresh water is precious and hard to come by and must be conserved carefully.  I get that.  But we're not there.  The "greenies" around here want everyone to buy huge, ugly, black plastic rain tanks to put beside our houses, and catch rain from the gutters.

Right.

That sounds all environmentally responsible and great doesn't it?  But here... we get about nine months of rain.  The tank fills up in about a day or two and then is worthless.  Nobody needs to water anything.

Then we get about three consecutive dry months.  You empty the tank in July and then it sits there (UGLY!) and empty until October.

Meanwhile, God has provided (in our area) a wonderful way to store all that glorious precipation:  SNOW.  The high mountains are covered with snow from about October until June.  The warm spring and summer weather melts the snow, and gravity brings it right down to us.

I'm watering my flowers.

4.  Gunnar got the Sunburn Itch from H*ll last week.  He's definitely my most dramatic child, and prone to tell me Every Single Little Thing that has ever hurt, so I take his reactions with a grain of salt.  But this was different.  Two days after getting a sunburn he started to itch and nearly lost his mind.  It was epically horrible.  I finally got a brain flash that he might be having some kind of histamine flare (where did that come from?), gave him Benadryl and ice packs, and got him calmed down enough to be distracted by something on Netflix until he conked out.  Thank you very much, Top Gear.

Oh well.  Sleeping between 1:30 and 2:30 a.m. is definitely overrated.  Said no one ever.

Having done belated internet "research", have now realized he was NOT exaggerating.  Adults have been stark raving mad over the SIFH; some have even gone to the ER.  One blogger who described his experience and invited others to share their stores had over 750 comments, and still going.

Better restock the Benadryl...

5.  The summer is flying by and I have a birthday party to plan.  Kerry is turning fifty.  Yes, 

50!

A half a century.  So I'm planning a party.  And I'm borrowing a trick from my favorite newly-weds.  I'm sending out invitations without telling anyone where the party is.  

RSVP and I'll give you directions. ;D

6.   Brisket.  I bought a beef brisket on a good sale.  Suggestions for the best way to cook it?  Am leaning toward the crock-pot with sauce of ketchup plus onion soup mix.  You?

7.  I saved the best for last... baby bunnies!  How quickly (not even 48 hours old) they've gone from tiny naked hippos...

  

to adorable, very slightly fuzzy balls of cuteness.

Holland Lop Baby #1

Holland Lop Baby #2

And Holland Lop Baby #3

If I had to guess right now, I'd say they're all males and that two will be gray (like Uncle Podger) and one will be mixed white and gray (like Polly).  The third one was smaller from birth and is still smaller, but warm and lively so we hope he'll thrive.  

We brought Polly out of the nest and Tate held her while we let this baby try to take an extra feed mid-afternoon.  He certainly knew what to do and appeared to be suckling energetically, but it's hard to tell if her milk let down and he got anything.  Unlike humans, rabbits only nurse their babies a couple of times a day, so they've got to be efficient little eaters.  Hope he can get his share.  For now, he's warm and wiggly, so all signs are good :D

Brain Dump - It's the Month of May-hem

1.  Nuts.

We're going a little nuts this week.  No surprise there, right?  Especially given that the boys will be IN DISNEYLAND a week from today, (as Gunnar has reminded me about 47 times since breakfast).  I'm holding out a vain hope that perhaps, with a few days free of their exuberance and activities, my brain will clear up.  But then again, maybe not.


2.  Mother's Day

My sister and I took our mom out for Mothers' Day yesterday.  And - yes - I do realize that Mothers' Day is actually Sunday.  Turns out my sister had an idea, back before Christmas, that we buy tickets to take my mom to see Beauty and the Beast (live, Broadway show).  Turns out that my mom, being the generous mom that she is, (and knowing how broke I am) offered to take us out to dinner, before the show.  Which we all enjoyed.  (The dinner AND the show.)  Of course, there were lots of kids at the show, especially little girls, and double-especially little girls dressed up like princesses.  Which reminded me how thankful I am to be a mother to three BOYS, because while all the little princesses were very cute, I'm very aware that "girly-girl" is not my native language.  And the show itself was fun.  Gaston was perfect.  What an over-cooked ham!

And for the ACTUAL Mother's Day, we'll be hosting the family here for lunch, and celebrating a birthday as well.


3.  Mowing, mowing, and more mowing.

The boys are up to FOUR lawns now, and very thankful for that.  It's quite a juggling act, between homeschooling, CAP, Wyatt's job at the motocross, and whatever else.  Things will lighten up considerably when we wrap up school for the summer, but in the meantime...

We needed a weed-whacker, since the one we had was pathetic and powerless.  Rechargeable battery?  Yah, right.  That thing never worked for more than a few minutes before it would poop out, at its best.  And lately?  More like a few seconds.  One of the neighbors has a nice electric one, but it took three adults, two teen-age boys, and two clothes-pins to reload the string on the spool.  So when we went to buy a new one (a GAS one - woo-hoo!) I told the guy at the shop that he had to show all of us (the three boys and me) how the string worked, and we all had to be able to do it before we left.

"Oh, ma'am, this is the easiest thing there is," he grinned.

Yah, charm will get you nowhere.  Prove it.

And he was right.  Easy squeezy.

Minutes later we were off to the church to mow, when teenage hormones came into play.  (Lord have mercy if you have teenage boys, because you can't tell them anything.)

The lawn at the church has not been mowed yet, so it is long, thick, and wet underneath.  Wyatt started weed-whacking around the fence and Tate fired up the mower.  I suggested he raise it up as high as it goes for the first mow, but I am obviously an idiot.  Why on earth would he want to do that?

After the mower died about thirty times in the first ten minutes (and he had not even gone once around), he grudgingly consented to let Wyatt help him raise it up.

When it died again, he brought it over on the concrete to restart it, but he couldn't get it going.  I suggested he check the gas, but - again - I obviously have the IQ of algae, there's plenty of gas in there.

After he nearly jerked the rip cord right out of the engine I banished him to the car, filled it up with gas, and continued mowing where he'd left off.

But then when I had to restart it (after talking to Gunnar about kicking out the mole hills) the little plastic bracket that holds the cord broke, and that was the end of mowing for the day.  Of course, when I suggested to Tate that if he hadn't yanked it so hard in frustration it might not have broken, I was informed that it broke because it is old and a piece of junk.


4.  The Chicken.

My friend Ann had a great description of stress that I'm borrowing.  It's like a giant chicken, sitting on your head, and pecking at you all the time.  Ugh!  Too true.  It's the Mother Load gone bad!

Maybe while the boys are gone I can kill the chicken ;D


5.  Bible Study tonight.

We are studying Proverbs and it couldn't be more timely.  Especially this week's lesson on Wealth and Poverty.  Debt is bondage, my friends, bondage.  Ugh.


6.  The pink dogwood.

It is glorious, right now, and I must go take a picture before I forget.  And, yes, I am saying the PINK dogwood is glorious, even though pink (along with brown) is my least favorite color.  And I don't HATE pink.  It's fine, out in nature, where God put it.  Just not in my house.  And the tree?  Really, it's not too pink, but kind of coral.  At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it.


7.  And lastly, about standard of living and quality of life.

Don't confuse the two.

Yah, I get it that there is definitely some overlap, but the two are not the same.  And maybe, just maybe, if your pursuit of a higher standard of living is MAKING YOUR FAMILY SICK, it might be time to think about the quality of life you're actually achieving.

Rant over.

And how is YOUR Wednesday going?

Friday Brain Dump... and a Bit of a Rant

Todays Friday Brain Dump is brought to you by...

1.  The Interrobang‽- have you heard of this?  It's a question/exclamation mark together.  And all I can say is it's about time!

2.  Can I just tell you how disappointed I am that my grocery store is moving everything around?  What on earth has gotten into these people?  I was just there yesterday and recognized one of the owners of the chain, directing the folks doing the shuffling, and almost gave him an earful.  Because - hello? - do you do the grocery shopping for your family?

No, I think not.

Because if you had ever, even once, filled a grocery cart you would know better than to put the bread first, where it will get squished under everything else you're about to buy.

Kerry suggested I just start at the other end of the store.

Kerry is hilarious.

No.  You go right first.  It's scientific.  Even in countries that drive on the left, they know that people will go to the right first.  Which is why they put all the refrigerated and frozen things way off in the back, to the left... where you finish.

And another tip?  Among the refrigerated things?  The eggs should go last.  Not before the six gallons of milk I need to buy today.

They need a woman to head that committee, because the men Don't Get It.


3.  And speaking of grocery - and other - stores - our county recently banned (single-use) plastic shopping bags.  Crazy environmental busy-bodies.  I don't mind so much at department stores, but reusable bags for groceries?  Ewwww.

I've seen some pretty nasty looking ones, and you know why?

That's my clothesline.  Apparently, I am in the 3% minority of people that actually wash their bags.  Now you might feel all virtuous and noble, because you're washing your bags, too.  But what about the people in line ahead of you?  The checker had to touch their filthy bags before handling your groceries.  How noble and virtuous do you feel now?  A checker at Wally-world last week told me a man had handed her his reusable bag, in which his dog had vomited.  I think I would've shoved the bag over his head, and him out the door!  I think I'm not cut out to be a checker.

Dog vomit aside, the study (University of Arizona and Loma Linda University) found coliform bacteria in about HALF the bags, and E. coli in 12%.

One researcher claims that after San Francisco banned plastic shopping bags, there was a spike in ER visits (and deaths) related to these bacteria, but I don't know if that's substantiated.  Although a reusable bag appears to have caused a norovirus outbreak, among a Beaverton, Oregon soccer team.

Done ranting now...


4.  I have a turkey in the fridge, all thawed out and ready to cook, but I got distracted and it's too late to start.  Maybe tomorrow?


5.  We're done picking blackberries for the year.  They're still out there, but they're not the same.  Must be the cooler nights.

6.  Does anyone know what kind of tree this is?  Yes, it's real.  No, it's not a fruit that I've ever seen people eat.  Looks like something from Dr. Seuss, if you ask me.

7.  I've been trying to grow these for years, and this is the first time the deer have left them alone long enough to get to this stage.  Thank you, Liquid Fence.

Chinese Lanterns

8.  Gunnar and I had a good walk yesterday.  Apparently I had left my camera on a different setting and didn't notice until we were home - oops - and my pictures didn't quite come out the way I hoped, but still...

He always likes to visit the ducks at several nearby ponds,

... and quickly spotted this less common visitor, as well.  It's a Great Blue Heron, a bit out of focus - sorry!

9.  I just like the fall colors, coming out around my neighborhood :D

Little House on the... ?

1.  Our neighbor is mowing his lawn - no problem.

2.  The washer is in that stage where it sounds like a jet engine, spooling up for take-off -  I can handle that.

3.  Someone in the neighborhood is banging something metal... what?

4.  The city is apparently working on a major arterial, just two blocks over, and has diverted traffic onto our quiet, neighborhood street - fabulous (not).

5.  Public Works is replacing a culvert across the edge of our property, necessitating digging up our driveway, one entire side of our yard, part of the neighbor's yard, and a section of the street.  Hello heavy equipment, dump trucks, jack hammers, workers with loud radios (communication, not music), and vehicles that incessantly BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP whenever they're backing up.  Or just left idling in reverse, for reasons I cannot, for-the-love-of-all-that-is-good-and-holy-please-make-that-sound-stop, explain.

Just another quiet, peaceful day of homeschooling.

Meteorological Phenomena vs. Bottle-Blonde

TIWIARN*

Gooooood morning.

It's the fourteenth day of summer, isn't it?  Isn't it???

Because it's hard to tell when it's 53F (about 12C) and has rained almost an inch already today, and it's only 10:19am.

(UPDATE: 1.10 inches by 5pm, unless it rains some more...)

I'm underwhelmed.

But, in the hope and expectation that summer will come, I give you this public service announcement:

I'm off to make jam.

That will be all.

*This Is Where I Am Right Now

Wake Up and Smell the Hummus...

I finally figured out how to embed a video, and it's not of my kids ;D

I think it's insane, if not bordering on criminal, how the public school agenda tries so hard to push every single student to aim for college/university.  Doesn't it seem obvious that not every person has the academic skills to succeed there?  And that many people who could succeed, have other interests and goals?  Or that not everyone thinks it's a great idea to start your adult life with a crushing load of debt?

Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks these things.  Check it out.

A Friday... Momologue

You thought I was going to say "Brain Dump" didn't you?  Sadly, there's too little there to risk a dump.  If I tried, I'd probably be left as empty as the gas tank in my van.  It's been that kind of week.  *sigh*  So instead, you get a rant.

It's about modesty.  And - shock and awe - it's not about women!  It's men!  And boys!

And I need your help.  I'm reaching out to my bloggy friends - especially the few male readers I have - for advice.  Here's the situation:

Kerry hired a guy to do some work for him.  He'll probably be around for a couple of weeks.  He seems like a nice guy.  Young.  Friendly.  Hipster.  I walked out to the office to use the copier, and guess what I saw?  Sagging pants, and gray and black striped briefs. Way more information than I ever wanted.

Really?  What gives?  I know, I know, I've never been one to keep on top of the fashion trends, but who started this?  And why???  Do guys think females find this attractive?

News flash:  NO.  We don't.  I don't know about other women, but when I see six inches of your underwear, I think two things:

1.  Your I.Q. just dropped 20 points you really couldn't afford to lose.  And,

2.  Trashy, and on purpose.

And don't tell me you're just skinny and pants won't stay up on you.  My 94-pound grandpa was SKINNY, and I never saw his underwear.  Get a belt.  Get some suspenders.  Or - hey! - I've got a staple gun and I can fix that for you!

Underwear is supposed to be just that UNDER-wear.  Same rule, whether you're a guy or a gal.

*Whew*  Okay, I guess it was a little rant ;D


So here's my dilemma - I'm usually a pretty straight shooter, but this isn't comfortable territory for me.  I just met the guy yesterday, and we'd like to all get along, so he can help Kerry with this job.  .

So what do I say?

Obviously not, Option 1, which is my rant, above.

Option 2

There are conversations I never wanted to have, and this one of them.  I never wanted to talk with you about your underwear.  But more than I don't want to talk about your underwear, I don't want to SEE your underwear.  And it's not because I'm a prude.  I live with four males and I've seen my share of men's underwear.  It doesn't shock me.

But what DOES shock me is that any reasonably intelligent human gets up in the morning and thinks showing off his underwear in public is a good decision. 

We are trying to raise our three young men with dignity and honor.  You can do so much better.  And at least around here, that's the standard.

(Probably way too wordy.)

Option3

We're pretty casual around here.  Not much of a dress code.  Except this:

My family and I don't see your underwear.  Ever.

Option 4?  5?  6?

Help a sister out, here.

About Sixteen Cups

Which is a gallon.

That's how much water I collected when I defrosted the freezer this morning.

So boys, if you want ice cream...

     please, for the love of mike, make sure the freezer door shuts!

That will be all.

A Funny Little Quilt and I May Be Losing My Mind And Thank God I'm Not Hormonal Right Now on Top of Everything Else Since I've Already Cried Twice Today

Once, on the phone, with a total stranger.  But I'll get to that.

However, things are looking up.  So we'll start at the bottom and head for higher ground, okay?

1.  The insurance saga continues...  when I emailed them the new information they wanted on Monday I included a request for whoever received the message to take SECONDS and email me back, so I would know they had what they needed from me.  I got an automated response promising me that emailed documents are pulled through the day, and would be in someone's hands within 24 hours.  And also, they had a large bridge for sale I might be interested in.

So I called again this morning, to check the progress on that.  If the phone could give me a blank stare, that's what I got.

I'll spare you the sordid details, but the real low point was a man in the Coordination of Benefits office telling me I was at fault for not providing complete information, and I would have to re-start the process of getting the surgery authorized, and that means getting back at the end of a long, long line, and authorization for surgery in one week?  When pigs fly.

He didn't like the way I talked to him, so at least we had that in common.

But he did transfer me back to the Eligibility office where an ANGEL answered the phone.  (And I'm not just saying that in case Lisa ever reads this.  Hi Lisa!)

By that point I'd been on the phone for forty-seven minutes, and had enough stress to send a herd of elephants on a rampage, and started to cry.  Hello humiliation.

But guess what?  She fixed the problem.  She not only fixed it, she gave me her direct (work) email to communicate through; she called Children's herself and got everything settled with their financial people; and called AND emailed me back to reassure me that we are

GOOD TO GO.

That's a little inside joke, for any of you who've seen the movie Contact - a family fave, in the Grasshopper house.


2.  Which means...

7 DAYS TO SURGERY!

Yes, we are camping on that GOOD news, because...


3.  I think Tate also needs a new Hearing Aid.  He's mentioned a few times lately that he doesn't think it's working like normal.  Now, those are words that strike fear into a mother's heart, because when a kid thinks their HA isn't working, the odds are about even that it's their hearing that isn't working.  But the HA seems to not work well only intermittently, and he's not known for fluctuating hearing loss.  So - though this sounds strange - I hope his HA isn't working properly.

So I have another email in to his Audie down at Children's to see what we can do about that.  Actually, I mentioned to her last December that I didn't think this HA was cutting it any more, but she was able to tweak it.  Insurance companies like HA's to last five years.  They're expensive.  And Tate has had this one just over four years.  She doesn't want to submit a claim to replace it unless it isn't working or isn't meeting his needs.  (And - no - there was no wink-wink-nudge-nudge-go-break-it in her voice, though I have to admit it did occur to me...)  At the time I questioned the second criteria, but now I'm questioning both.

Recent testing shows he's lost another five db's at a couple of frequencies, and I just don't think this HA is serving him anymore.  And I really don't want this to have to be another battle.


4.  And to round out the morning...  recently, on the home front, Wyatt and I both broke cereal bowls (leaving us five of the eight blue bowls we love, which I got at Ikea years ago), Gunnar broke a green pyrex bowl that was my Nana's, Mt. Laundry (for you climbers, out there) is looking like a full-day 5.9, and - the icing on the cake - one of the bunnies got to come in the house for a visit and peed on Gunnar and the couch.  (Thank God for fake leather instead of upholstery.)

5.  On the bright side, the sun is out, if briefly.  In between phone calls and emails about the insurance we got through our school work successfully.  I think the boys could tell I was nearing the Cliffs of Insanity - not aggravated at them, but in general - and really stepped it up.  (Was my hair standing on end, or did the smell of therapy Nutella on my breath tip them off?)

They're out mowing the neighbor's lawn, the lunch dishes are done with no new breakage, and I got mail.  Real mail.  From a real friend.  A friend who is a true, professional encourager.  Who, though she is full-on in the throes of parenting a newborn, took time out to send me a note with a generous gift - a contribution to our driving-to-Seattle-a-hundred-times fund.

Love you, Kimberly :-)

(That was the second time I cried.)

6.  And, since I still can't load the pictures I wanted to...

I'll include a tide-me-over, since I'm thinking of Kimberly, and this relates to her :D

Long ago, a friend of mine and I bought a collection of vintage reproduction fat quarters.  (That means pieces of fabric that look old but aren't, for you non-sewers.)  We each got forty pieces.  Took me forever to cut into them, and before I did I divided them into pastels, and brights.  Made these two quilts out of the pastels, and gave them to new babies at church.

This one has ragged edges around the squares, and I really loved it.

This one really looks old-timey :D

With the brights, I made a tumbler quilt for ME.  Love it.

Then I had just a small, random selection of scraps left over, so I tried to figure out what I could do with them, and came up with this.

It's small.  Only about twenty-eight inches square.  And just feels kind of like spring to me.  Like a pinwheel, maybe.

I'd already sent Kimberly a baby quilt, so I just tucked this in, to maybe use with the car seat, or the stroller, when you might want something small.  Or it can be her sweet baby's doll quilt, when she's a little older.


So, hallelujah, I think we can cross the insurance situation off the Mother Load until next year.  And we can focus on finishing the school year strong and transforming Tate's ability to hear.

And now, back to our regular programming...

Tuesday Brain Dump

 Well.

Can you hear me sighing?

I haven't been blogging much lately because HELLO!  SUNSHINE!  Yes, we've had several days with consistent sightings of our nearest star, and life as we know it nearly came to a screeching halt.  More about that momentarily.

Also, frankly, the last few weeks have seemed busier than usual, but a fairly mundane kind of busy, as opposed to blog-worthy busy.  (Yes, well, I did blog about The Day of Nine Errands, and that's about as mundane as it gets, so what am I saying, really?)  Maybe that I don't want this little corner of the interwebs to turn into a big whine-and-cheese-fest, y'know?  Still, life is messy, so here ya go.

1.  For all my whining about HOW MUCH RAIN we get, I'm actually kind of glad for a few wet days this week.  I mean, how else would we get anything done?  You folks from drier climates may not understand this, but here's the thing: because it does rain so much, when the sun actually comes out there's this enormous pressure to DROP EVERYTHING AND GO OUTSIDE AND DO SOMETHING, making it difficult to focus on schoolwork, housework, etc.  Yes, some of us actually feel guilty if we're inside on a nice day.  And, you know, what we homeschool moms really need is more guilt and pressure.  This eases up as summer comes and the sunny days are more frequent.  I just thought you should know.

2.  I've already chased two deer away from my plants, which they were nibbling, and out of the yard.  They didn't even run, just gave me an insolent glare and trotted out of reach.  Tate came around the other side of the house, though, and I think he hit one with his slingshot.  Yay, Tate.

3.  Two boys were doing their language and math work this morning, while another boy was on a little detour.  He was writing Hebrews 13:17 a few times for me before he got to move on to his regular work.

Obey your leaders and submit to their authority.  They keep watch over you as men (or moms) who must give an account.  Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you. 

Will see how that goes.  (eyes roll)

4.  We had a baby shower for my SIL on Saturday, and my gifts to her are the projects I've promised photos of, but I can't load them at the moment.  Blogger says my memory is full (HA!  They don't know the half of it!), but that's happened before and a day or so later I can load photos again.  No, I don't understand that, but whatever.

I can show you ONE gift I gave her...

Didn't make it myself, but could not resist ;D

5.  There is just something about this month that's like pushing rope uphill.  No one thing is overwhelming, but there seems to be a lot of it.  Have you read much John Grisham?   I've only read some (my favorite is probably Skipping Christmas), but something has always stuck with me from The Testament.  And that's the despachante.  Which he describes as:

a Portuguese term for a personal dispatcher, expediter, buyer, or runner. No official document is obtained in Brazil without waiting in long lines. A despachante knows the city clerks, the courthouse crowd, the politicians, and the customs agents. He knows the system and how to grease it to get things done. The job requires a quick tongue, patience, and a lot of brass. For a small fee, a despachante will obtain permits and passports or do your voting, banking, and mailing - the list has no end. No bureaucratic obstacle is too intimidating.

Of course, he's describing more of a business application, but wouldn't you like a personal despachante?  I know I would!

And the first job I would put my despachante on:

6.  The insurance mess.  I've spent another hour or so on the phone sorting out the boys' insurance, finding the documentation they've added to the list of things they want, copying all that, trying and failing to fax it to them (they gave me two fax numbers - one doesn't work and the other is perpetually busy - so very helpful), and then having Kerry scan the documents in as a PDF file and extorting begging an email address from an employee to send them to.  Because why would they want to make it easy for me to submit our information?  The information they requested.

Meanwhile,

7.  Tate's surgery is in 8 DAYS.

So, no, in case you're wondering, I'm not just a litte bit stressed or anything. 


8.  What is it about three boys that can make it so grueling to keep the fridge full and the laundry empty?!   ;-P

Happy Tuesday to you!