Some Good Things

Yesterday was my father-in-law and brother-in-law's birthday.  Yes, they share the same birthday.  Pretty cool birthday present for my FIL I think, to have a son.  Dad turned 80!  It's so wonderful in many ways, but last year we thought we'd lose him to heart disease.  Heart attack followed by bypass surgery, followed by more surgery and a 2 month stay in the hospital about killed him.  He and my MIL decided to move down here last October to be closer to family. Two months of running back and forth to the hospital without someone to lean on about killed my MIL---well, figuratively anyway.  They need to be near us and we need to have them around. My youngest, James, thinks they hung the moon.  My older two do to, but are too cool to show it.  It's a good thing all around.

My BIL, Dean, surprised Dad for their birthday by just showing up on their doorstep.  I think they had a great visit.  It's the first time Dean has seen Mom and Dad in their new house.  He and his wife have a longer visit scheduled for July.  Can't wait to share it with them!

This is Mama dog.  I was walking my son to school and found her in a greenbelt (large, green park space behind neighborhoods) barking her head off.  Turns out she was protecting a puppy. Once my friend and I were able to find something to put it in, we scooped up the puppy and used it to coax Mama into my car.  They both had obvious need of veterinary care.  The pup was a tiny, black, fuzzy, cutie.  It seemed as though Mama had raised it on her own in the greenbelt. The pup screamed every time I touched it, but I assumed it was from fear.  Unfortunately, it was from disease (distemper) or a head injury.  It didn't take the vet and me very long to decide to put the poor little thing down.  That left us with Mama and her possible ailments---very obvious flea infestation, possible mange, worms, hearthworms, distemper, parvo????? The list was endless.  Then there was the problem of trying to give away a dog.  We couldn't keep her. Who would want a scraggly little misfit like Mama?  

Leave it to the glory of email address books to answer that question.  I just sent out a mass email asking that if they weren't interested in this little girl, did they know someone who might be?  Within 24 hours I received a message on my answering machine---"Damn you, CeeCee.....we'll take her if no one else will".  I have soft hearted friends.  They, also, have soft hearted friends.  She has two potential homes to go to!!

Mama didn't have heartworms or mange (whew!).  She is malnourished, has a severe allergy to fleas and had a fever for several days.  Now she's got a clean bill of health. We're just waiting until her weight comes up before getting her spayed.  She still looks bad, but that will improve with time and love.  The love is going to be the easy part.  I expected her to be a little biting machine---terriers often are.  She'd been a stray for who knows how long; how friendly could she be?  I'll tell you.  She's a lovebug!  She is going to make a wonderful, wonderful pet.  She shakes like a leaf when she climbs up in my lap, but snuggles right in and gives kisses.  The true test was when I took James in to see her.  She loved him too!  Not one hint of growling, lip curling, or biting.  All kisses.  

I'm hoping her new home situation works out.  What we don't know is if she's potty trained, if she chews furniture, fights with other dogs, barks at nothing---you know, typical good dog-bad dog traits.  I wish her luck.  She's not quite home yet.  She's on her way.

Note to Self

Be patient with compost.  Don't give in (again) to the desire to use it, just because it smells finished.  If it still has bits of orange peel and egg shell and grass from the neighbors yard, it's not ready.  If you do give in, you will be rewarded with an hour of bending and squatting and digging and pulling weeds.  You will be rewarded with a sore back, feet, legs and bottom. You will be rewarded with the fact that you only scratched the surface of the number of weeds in your beds.  Remember to take Advil before starting to pull weeds next time. Take two.

On a brighter note, remember the chickens were thrilled with the green bounty you dumped in the chicken yard.  At least someone was happy about weeds.

Happy Mother's Day

For me, painted by Pearl.  It's wonderful!  

My mother died in February and I've tried all day not to think over the lists of "good and bad" in my head.  You know what, she was seldom a bad mother, just indifferent most of the time--at least with me.  I can't speak for my brother and sister.  Some weird part of me wants to be crushed that she isn't here for mother's day this year.  I know two women at church who very recently lost mothers too.  I'm pretty sure they are mourning the loss of their mothers on this day.  While today is hard for me, it is also easier in many ways.  I don't have to locate a mother's day card that is not too silly, but not too smarmy.  My mom always held me at arms length.  I believe she loved me, but didn't show it unless it was important to her at the time. What I come to most days is that she did the best she could.  It makes me feel better, anyway.  

As for me as a mother.  I'm not perfect.  I try every day to let them know that I really, really love them.  I also manage to growl at them at least once a day.  They bring out the best and worst in me, but at the end of the day I want them to know that they and their dad are the most important people in the world.  My kids (and I suspect yours, also) are the reason the saying "I love you, but I don't like you very much" was coined.  I also think they could say the very same thing about me. 

I try to remember every day that they aren't extensions of me, but their very own human being. It's okay that they don't like the same things I do.  It's okay that they disagree with me----respectfully, please.  It's okay that they are growing up--I'm fiercely proud of all three of them! I look forward to our future together and the things we'll share.  I want, at the end of my life, for them to be able to say they were glad they knew me.  I want them to be able to say, without a doubt, that I loved them madly.  I want them to remember my cooking, my silly songs, how much I loved their dad, that I tried to be fair, and that I cared what was going on in their lives--even when they didn't want to tell me. 

Thanks kids.  Being your mom is the most important thing I'll ever do.

Love, hugs and kisses,

Mom 

Introducing Pico

At this point, we don't know whether he's a baby Norway rat, or a young mouse.  More Googling for me.  I was out feeding the chickens this morning and noticed him clinging to life on the Polaris hose for the pool.  He'd evidently fallen in the pool and was lucky enough to locate the only floating thing available.  Wet and cold, we brought him in and Pearl dried him with the low setting of my hairdryer.  I was sure he'd be dead within the hour because of his ordeal in the pool.  Still alive, 5 hours later.  He's eating, grooming himself and leaving tiny little presents for us, so I guess he's going to be okay.  Pearl's named him Pico.  It means "peak" (as in mountain top) in Spanish.  It doesn't really apply, but it's a cute name for a cute guy.

Lucky for him, I like rodents.  I'm sure the chickens would have made quick work of him if I'd offered him up for breakfast.    

Early Blight

Well, there it is in living color.  I was just patting myself on the back for having a successful potato crop and spots began showing up on the leaves.  I put it out of my mind as I was eating those lovely, pink potatoes drenched in butter (yes, real butter!) and sea salt.  I spent the week watching the plants and hoped it was a reaction to our well water or the liquid seaweed fertilizer I apply once a week.  Maybe it's bugs?  

I took my head out of the sand and began pouring over my gardening books and Google. Vegetable Garden Problem Solver by Rodale was my first read.  I now know this about early blight:

"Tomatoes are the crop that is hardest hit by early blight, but it can also infect potatoes, peppers, and eggplant."  Great, at least I didn't plant any eggplant!  "The fungus that causes it is Alternaria solani.  In Spring, early blight spores blow in the wind or are spread by insects or rain splashing up from the soil.  Spores enter the plants through wounds in leaves. (darn cabbage loopers!!!) The fungus produces spores in several rounds each growing season. "

Fighting the infection:  It basically says to cut off the leaves hit by the fungus.  Hand water plants, mulch heavily so the rain won't splash on the plant (doesn't rain splash off mulch too??). It also says to make sure their are no potatoes left in the soil over the winter and to rotate tomato/potato family crops every 3 years.  Geez, I just got the hang of this and now I'm supposed to wait three years to plant potatoes again?

Well, I'm going to have to keep a hawks watch on my tomatoes.  They are living a mere 6 feet from where the potatoes once were.  I pulled up the entire crop of potatoes and hope it hasn't spread to the potatoes themselves.  At least those first potatoes brought me great gustatory joy and allowed me to give my sister the proper send off for her home in Portland.

Soft Pillow

About once a week, one of my kids catches me off guard with proof that Lee and I are doing something right.  This week it was James' turn.  He brings home what's called a "Tuesday folder".  It's filled with a weeks worth of work and other things he's done in class.  This heart was in amongst the 'other things' pile.  

I am coordinator for my church's outreach to the homeless.  It's called Food for Friendship.  It is funded and staffed solely by members and friends of our little church (50 in attendance on a Sunday).  Each Sunday morning a team of amazing people drag out of bed to be at church by 7am to begin cooking breakfast.  Well, I drag out on my Sunday, maybe they don't.  I digress. The doors are opened at 8am and breakfast is served until 9.  Typically we serve well over a hundred breakfasts.  We allow seconds and thirds and fourths---however many trips it takes to fill an empty stomach.  We have four Sundays a month (except 4 months that have a 5th Sunday), a different menu each week, and a different team of volunteers.  Every Thanksgiving we have a dinner with all the fixins.  We serve over 200 with homemade food and genuine hearts. The whole congregation chips in to make it happen. The program is in it's 17 year.

Our guests are mostly men.  Not all homeless, but the breakfast is free.  They come from all walks of life, each with their own story.  Several are mentally ill.  One in particular, Michael, is clearly in need of medication.  He's also wicked smart.  We suspect he's from a wealthy family back east and probably has at least a Master's degree, if not a PhD.  When he's not ranting about homelessness, government or how we ought to expand our menu, he's handing out chocolates to his fellow travelers. His father recently passed away and left him a hefty sum of money.  We surmise he has access to the money through an executor, thus the chocolates for friends.  

Now back to James' heartfelt sentiment.  In the winter, I am especially aware on cold nights that I am blessed with a warm bed and a soft pillow.  I add it in our bedtime prayer of thankfulness and prayer concerns.  James once asked me what that part of the prayer was about.  I told him that many of the folks that come to our breakfast might be sleeping in a box on the ground.  No soft pillow to lay their head on.  He tucked that bit of prayer into his heart and when asked at school what he'd give away, he thought of his pillow.  He's aware that many of our guests are grumpy---mostly because their stomachs are empty.  In James' mind, it's because they haven't had a good nights sleep.  Either way, he gets it.  We should all get it.  

"and a little child shall lead them."~ Isaiah 11:6

First Snake of the Season

I knew it was inevitable.  Last year I moved 5 different rat snakes out of the nest box and onto the 366 acres we back up to.  This one hardly gave me any trouble at all.  Of course, after a three-egg lunch, one would tend to be getting around pretty slow.  I know how many eggs by how many bumps are evident.  This snake must have just swallowed the last egg because its jaw is still unhinged.  I'm constantly amazed how large an egg their tiny heads can get around.  This one's head was only about as wide as your two thumbs, side by side.

Oh well, off to find it a more appropriate home.  Snakes tend to make the hens a little weak in the knees and they quit laying for a day or two.  Silly girls, they are far too fluffy for a rat snake. ;)