Cooling Off

This is how the kids around here cool off:


The world's biggest sprinkler!



Wonder what would happen if there was a fire?

Halloween in June

Love the fingernails:

Thoughtful devil:

The one flip-flop makes this monster extra scary:

Where did her its other shoe get off to?

Lazy Pictures

(I took the picture and then uncovered his head so he could breathe.)

I have a few reasons for posting these lazy pictures:
1. I couldn't stand the Chicago River being the first thing I saw when I came over here.
2. I'm shaking my head over Dick Cheney's little joke about West Virginia and vowing not to waste my time addressing that idiot's comments. Except to say it's obvious he's not from here. Thankfully. (Okay, stopping, really.)
3. I just came in from playing in the garden and a nap sounds pretty good right now.
4. It's going to rain -again!- and that makes the nap sound even better.

Pink Shoe Puddles

"Does Gatorade stain?"
I wasn't sure how to take this question seeing as how it came from a kid who puts his shirt on backwards everyday.
"It can, yes," I answered from the driver's seat.
I wanted to say, "Does Gatorade make a puddle on the floor or does it soak into the carpet?" but I refrained. There had been worse stuff in the back seat: a flattened, oozing banana with a halo of fruit flies, moldy peanut butter sandwiches squished inside a baggie (hopefully inside), green string cheese, and the occasional dog biscuit that was overlooked in favor of something tastier - rotten-er.
We have a dog because it's easier than using the vacuum cleaner - she can really get into all the small spaces without the inconvenience of an attachment.
"Will it come out of my socks?"
It's red Gatorade.
I'm sure the socks are a lovely shade of pink.
They'll go well with the inside-out and backwards underwear.


***I wrote this last summer and never posted it.
Relevant updates:
My son doesn't put his shirt (or underwear) on backwards everyday anymore, just every once in a while; he's growing up.
By now, you've already become acquainted with the dog.

Springtime - Leaves and Weedeaters

Even with the fickle spring weather, I've been spending a lot of time outside. The leaves are coming along nicely and the hills are softening with new growth.

With the nice weather and gardening comes grass cutting season, too. I am not the most diligent lawn care provider. As a matter of fact, it gets done in the slow minutes between everything else that needs done - patchwork lawn care. One section of the lawn will be freshly cut and another, adjacent section will be shin high.
The trim is particularly neglected. I was blaming that neglect on the heavy, unwieldy string trimmer. I finally bought a lightweight Weedeater that's not so hard for me to run. It is lighter, it is easier, it will probably not be a miraculous cure for lackadaisical yard work.

The first time I ran it I was very pleased with its light weight. I was able to wander around the entire yard and trim most of the worst edges without the muscles in my forearms and shoulders screaming at me (the trimmer itself, however, screams just as loud as the older, heavier tool).

When I finally turned it off and set it down to come in for a drink of water, I was surprised to see this follow me in the door:

A walking box!
Now if I could just figure out how to make the weedeater use itself....

Springtime and Dog Abuse

It's a shame dogs don't do things like carry in groceries, read to the kids, go over homework or fix supper.
Dogs eat, sleep, and bark occasionally to tell you that the meter reader is outside (gee, thanks).
So why is it that we keep them around?
I just recently paid someone else $60 to bathe and shave (remember I said she was bald?) my dog. Add to that the cost of food, tick treatment, heartworm pills, the yearly vaccinations, the $2/year county tax (!?) and it adds up fast. So, I've been analyzing Maisie's place in our household in an attempt to justify her continued residence and expense.
At first glance, the dog appears to be only a leech consumer and we should take her to the humane society immediately in order to save money and cleaning time and energy.
But I like her, so to put it into perspective, I created a list of ten good reasons to keep her around:

1. Maisie is cheaper than any one of the kids and I don't hear the constant refrain 'I need a new pair of shoes' coming from the dog.
2. She's great at fetch. (Try to get one of the kids to fetch something for you. Yeah, right.)
3. She makes a great walking companion.
4. She doesn't interrupt me when I talk. (For that alone she is safe from a massive inflation of the county dog tax.)
5. She listens. Not only listens, but OBEYS! Imagine! (Most of the time. Definitely more often than the children. This could be due to her lack of brains.)
6. She cleans spilled food off the floor.
7. Grunt, the teenager, yells at the dog as stress relief. Yeah, I know, poor dog, but think about what would happen if the dog wasn't there: poor me.
8. She's always happy to see me (sometimes too happy, but dog slobber is part of the package, I suppose).
9. She does not complain.
10. She doesn't question everything I do; she accepts me and all my idiosyncrasies without comments such as, "Mom, you're weird." (Note to kids: I'm alright with being weird; please leave me alone.)

My children have nicknames for the dog. I banned name calling amongst the children (like that worked), so they take it out on the dog. The dog doesn't seem to notice being called something that would send one of the children into a screaming hysterical fit and she loves the attention. Here are a few examples:

• Fattie
• The Fat
• Fat-iator (think Gladiator -thanks to the odd humor of S & T for that one)
• Maggot (this one gets a rise out of me; the dog is impervious)
• Slimeball
• Hairball
• Lard
• Lardy-cakes (ha!)
• Fattie-pants
• Fat Lard
• Stupid
• Idiot

Are you beginning to see the general theme here? Lack of intelligence, icky-ness, and obesity. What a great way to boost the dog's self-esteem, huh?

The name-calling has a definite lean toward the fatness theme, though Maisie is not fat (and I'm not just saying that to be nice because she really doesn't care), but she is big. Big is not big enough. Huge. Giant. Yes, really, she is. I'm used to her, so I don't really notice, but when my children bring friends over I always hear, "Holy cow! That's the biggest dog I've ever seen!" Once that's out of the way and they realize that Maisie just wants to kiss them and not eat them, things are usually okay. Most of the time. Some of the kids remain terrified.

The day I was to take her to get shaved, I warned everyone before they left for school so there would be no surprises or shocks. Well, that didn't work out so well because everyone was shocked. Of course there was the initial 'Wow, she looks weird' surprise, but the lasting shock was 'She's not fat!' With all that hair she was fluffier, but not fat. I knew she wasn't fat. I told the kids she wasn't fat. Still, it was shocking for them to realize that she wasn't fat. Probably because they had convinced themselves just by regularly calling her fat.

There's an obvious moral lesson here, but I'm running out of time, so I'll let you work that out for yourselves (are you reading this, kids?).

Anyway, the fat names haven't stopped and aren't likely to stop anytime soon. Old habits are hard to break (there's another one for ya, kids). However, 'Bald-y' and all variations have been added to the usual line-up. I'm just happy I don't have to clean up the spring shedding.

And the dog? Well, she seems perfectly happy, as usual. She hasn't noticed the new 'Bald' comments and she doen't seem to mind that she looks like one of those rubbery, stretchy, twisty toys with the big head and skinny little body and limbs. And as usual, she takes the fat comments as compliments of attention. What a lovely, oblivious, happy way to exist.

Did I mention that her tail looks like a dust mop?

And her ears look like radar dishes?

She had so much hair, I had to shorten her collar. Really.

I couldn't resist adding another view picture. If you want more, I posted a bunch of them over on the Taylor County Blog site.

Good Morning - Kettlebells and Sunrise

I've been swinging kettlebells for my regular workouts. I swing at home, so I save the time -and the gas- that it takes to get to the gym. It looks deceptively easy; I am soaked with sweat about 20 minutes into it. I like it so much I'm actually thinking about cancelling my gym membership for the summer - swing and run.

This morning I got up at 5 so I could be finished by the time I wake the kids at 6. The sky is just starting to lighten up now, but in about 45 minutes the front yard will look like this:

Or not. It's supposed to rain today and these pictures were taken right before the kids walked down to the bus -7am- on one of those perfect days last week (we've had several perfect days this past week-yay!). Today it's supposed to rain and the mist has climbed into the front yard.
The mist in the valley is beautiful. This is looking out across the front yard. Just beyond these trees, the hillside falls off the cliff. If my kids were younger it would bother me -like the little pond in the backyard. I'm still aware of it when they're out playing, but we've made two trails down into the deep cool of the rhododendron where dirt still clings to the rock face and softens the slope. You've got to slide down on your butt and pull yourself back up with the spindly roots that stick their knees up, but in the heat of summer it's worth it to go down there and hop from rock to rock. The kids aren't allowed to go down without asking -most of the time I go with them, but most of the time they don't ask. When it gets hot again, we'll probably start going down in there again. There's a high rock -though lower than the level of our yard and beneath the tree canopy- that would be perfect to set a porch swing (just without the porch).

This next view is the same, just wider. The spring leaves are just now starting to win. Barely.

Rainbow & Search for the Pot o' Gold

This was last week (the 1st, I think) looking across the front yard:




It was raining out in the field, but the kids didn't care. They took off after the other end of the rainbow in search of the gold.

Storytelling Institute at FSU

This past weekend I went to Fairmont State University for the Mountain State Storytelling Institute. The event was co-sponsored by the WV Storytelling Guild. Because I'm already acquainted with several intriguing members of this guild, I knew I wasn't going to be disappointed in spending my time and money on this gathering.
I am happy to report that I was right; I was not disappointed. In fact, I joined the WV Storytelling Guild, bought their book (and several others), and have been enjoying the group emails since they added me to the list on Sunday (it might be worth it to join just to read some of this stuff!).

I won't do well to try and report all that I encountered, but I would like to touch on a few things:

• The first workshop I attended - "From the Porch to the Page: Using the Oral Tradition in Crafting Personal Narrative" - was with storytelling duo 'Mountain Echoes' (June Riffle & JoAnn Dadisman). I've had the pleasure of meeting these women on a couple of other occasions, so knowing that they're both intelligent and articulate (not to mention entertaining) was one reason for choosing this as my first stop. The real selling point, though, was the emphasis on writing. [June flattered me by asking about my book. That made me feel good and I was able to report that I now have an agent - that's news I haven't announced yet. I suppose this small mention means that I will have to post an update on Vultures.] As we settled into our seats, the two women began to spin a tale with the high weeds of summer heat. I saw the glint of sun on the blade of the scythe and was pretty close to smelling the old hunting dog when...they stopped. !. Ack! Nothing like an abrupt interruption to reveal the depth of interest; everyone in the room was disappointed. However, the interruption was for good reason; the start-and-stop of the hunting dog tale was used to breakdown the story and get a good look at it. This was a perfect illustration of the of the mouth-to-page flow of a good story. I like the point that JoAnn made: it flows both ways. She's absolutely right and I will do well to keep that in mind.
• I got to meet Granny Sue in person! I'm just sorry that I didn't get to spend more time with her.
• I enjoyed (maybe a little too much, considering my age) Rich Knoblich's wolf puppet 'Growler' and the story of the "Boy Who Cried" so much that I bought his new book Talking 'bout The Relatives.
• It's women like Dr. Judy Byers who make me want to go back to school. Her workshop was way too short.
• Andy Fraenkel's workshop convinced us (and proved it, too) that we all have worthwhile stories to tell. It was almost shocking to be led into various story elements with seemingly no effort. And then to share the wonder of those tiny bits of awe with another person produced a palpable warmth.
• Bil Lepp summarized about 400 books on the art and techniques of writing using ridiculously simple line drawings and humor. It took him an hour and we laughed all the way through it. Amazing. Someone needs to publish his novels so I can read them (Okay? Do you hear that?).

Finally:

Do you know how hard it is to find appropriate entertainment (not to mention entertaining entertainment) for our entire family? If you don't, I'll tell you: It's impossible. Find something that the 15 year old thinks is funny and the 11 & 8 year olds shouldn't be hearing it. Find something that the 8 year old likes and the 11 and 15 year olds are groaning.

We took the entire family to Friday night's Telling. It was wonderful AND everyone had fun!

(Maybe I'll tell you about the dead baby at another time....)

I wasn't able to attend all the workshops (and that would be my only complaint), but I'm planning for next year....

Snowy Pictures

My camera uses 'AA' batteries, but my camera is on the fritz. I'm using PC's and the battery is a little box thing slightly bigger than the memory card that you take out and put into a niche in it's charge box that plugs into the wall. Complicated. But at least it works. And I suppose there is much to be said for rechargeable batteries.

Anyway, the battery is charged and here are the pictures -as promised, starting with scenery:

Of course, Maisie came with me:

The wind just about cleaned this hill:

Maisie being her regular goofy, frolicking self:

The temperature barely made it into the 20s today, but the forecast is saying 40 degrees tomorrow and 50 by Sunday. I'm sure the kitchen floor will progress nicely from wading pool to mud bog.

The end of the stomach bug, snow days, messy kitchen, pictures, exercise, the hazards of dieting, and other such ramblings

We made it through the stomach bug; I'll spare you more details.

The kiddies have not gotten back to school yet. We got quite a bit of snow and they called off school for our county -and most surrounding counties- yesterday and today. The kids are ecstatic! The only thing that would make them any happier is if I'd let them stay out all day. But, no, too cold for that. I call them in after half an hour and (they make it in about the 45 minute mark) have them spread out their gloves, hats, coats, boots, snow pants, and scarves to dry. I try to control the sprawl, but no such luck: the kitchen looks like a bombed closet (or like Grunt's room, but that's another post) when they're in and a wading pool by the time they go out again.
I went out after lunch, but they were all in lounge-mode and didn't join me. I dutifully -at PK's request- took pictures while tromping up the mountain and laughing at the dog. I think she may be even happier than the kids. By the time I came back in, all three of them were getting dressed again. I was just in time to help adjust gloves, tuck sleeves, zip coats, and wrap scarves.
Now it's quiet in here (at least for the next 25-30 minutes) and the camera battery is dead. You'll have to wait on the pictures until it's charged.

Changes are happening over at The 123. Progress. Good.

I've not been to the gym since last week, but all is well on the exercise front. I've been doing Turbulence Training and long walks with the dog. The Turbulence Training (I found it through Skwigg. You can get a 4week TT body weight routine over at her site, too.) is surprisingly tough, even the body-weight stuff. I've been doing some pretty heavy-duty lifting and it's STILL tough. Tough=sore=results=good :).
Okay, I was just over at there copying links and here's Skwigg's post for today on the insanity of dieting.
Argh. I have a lot to say about all the diet bullshit, but I'm still working out what I feel comfortable posting on here and what I don't. I suppose if this were a completely anonymous blog, I'd spill it all. But it's not. On the other side of the anonymity discussion, though, I find that the longer I keep this blog and the more feedback I get, the more I'm willing to put myself out there. Remind me I said that when I start getting snarky comments and hate mail.

Stay tuned. I have more to say.
And I'm getting braver.

Pictures to come, too....

It's Contagious

Yep.
Whatever the nasty little bug is, it's spreading.

More puke.

Blech.

More Vomit

Today I am cleaning up kid puke.
It's Kool-Aid red.

Snow Day II

We did NOT have a repeat of the Treadmill Phenomenon today. I told everyone that it was my workout time and I intended to get in a good workout so, unless someone was bleeding, I didn't want to hear about it. They were kind enough to put in last minute requests before I descended into the basement. (It took me another half an hour to do it all, but it was worth it because I got my hour of quiet. Well, almost quiet; let's classify it as minimal thumping.)
I had to:

• make peanut butter sandwiches.
• find two AA batteries for Grunt's camera.
• fix the printer so Screech could print out some fish pictures to finish off her school project.
• feed the dog.
• unzip a winter coat with a broken zipper.
• give instructions on which household chores needed to be done (haven't I done this about a gazillion times already?).

In the end, I got a great workout.

This afternoon we baked bread as a warm-up prelude to Christmas cookies.

The Treadmill Phenomenon

Today is a SNOW DAY. The kids are ecstatic (and ecstatically fighting) and it's still snowing. Hard.

If you're a parent, you are aware of the Telephone Phenomenon. And for those without children: It's when you get on the telephone and everyone in the house all of a sudden needs something.

I had forgotten, until today, that this attention-hoarding behavior also applies to the treadmill.

Today's Treadmill Phenomenon movie: Child#2 (Screech) thumps down the stairs from her room and across the floor above my head. She thumps down the basement stairs and begins to scream, "Mom! Mom!" While she is in the process of telling me her room is flooded, Child#3 (Dozer) thumps across my head in hot pursuit. He doesn't even wait until he's downstairs before he's screaming, "I did not! I did not!"

At about this time, two smaller elfin children clop down the stairs carrying between them what is left of an air rocket launcher. (J--- and L---. These two children are neighbors. They are very small and quiet compared to my screaming heathens. They are welcome here at anytime, mainly because they give me hope of a quieter, calmer, saner universe.) There is a long clear tube with a round accordion type bellows that is supposed to be stepped on in order to push air through the tube and into the rocket launching pad which is a flat plastic platform with a hollow, rigid plastic tube that points straight up into the air. A styrofoam rocket sits on top of this and can be launched into the air about 50 feet if a child jumps onto the accordion. Or at least it would launch if the dog hadn't eaten the rocket last week.

I am just now feeling nice and warm and moving easily. I'm watching the little stick man on the treadmill display run around the imaginary track at an amazing speed (alright, amazing might be stretching the truth a little bit). Over top of two screaming, arguing children I hear an elephant coming down the stairs and the house shakes (I'm not kidding about the house shaking). Child#1 (Grunt) stumble/thump/bang/wallop/whacks his way into the basement in the teenage sprawling way he has of taking over the entire house and comes to stand behind the four younger children. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he looks bored. (How the hell can you look bored when the decibel level is enough to break eardrums and the small people are jumping around like a herd of kangaroos?)

"Mom, can I go over to S---'s house?" Grunt asks. He can't be serious, can he? Dozer now has hold of the rocket launcher by the hose and begins to whip it around. The children scatter and Grunt ducks. Screech moves in closer to shove a wet monkey (evidence) in Grunt's face and he pushes her back. She stumbles and falls against J--- and L--- and tumbles these two small children like bowling pins. More screeching ensues.

I push the red 'Stop' button.

I calmly inform everyone that I am in the middle of my workout and they cannot -must not- interrupt me.

"Go clean it up," I say to the girls.

"Leave that here," I say to the rocket launcher.

"What are you going to do at S---'s?" I ask Grunt who towers above the younger children and parts them like the Red Sea as they scuttle back towards the stairs.

"Sled," is the one word answer. It sounds rather like a 'grunt.'

I push the green button and begin to walk, slowly moving back up to speed.

"Wait until I'm done and we'll talk about it," I answer. He grunts in reply and shuffles away.

*** Okay- here's the reality: 1. I might not have been quite as calm as this account makes me appear to be and 2. the last time Grunt went sledding over at S---'s house (February 2007), he broke his arm.

Really, I was not calm at all. At all. I yelled something like, "Why is it that as soon as I get on the treadmill everyone needs something?" And I yelled the "Go clean it up" line, too. "Leave that here" was somewhat quieter, but they were already scuttling by that time.

"Wait until I'm done..." was spoken in a quiet, calm voice. And he didn't argue (write that on the calendar).

Last year, in February, Grunt asked me to take him over to S---'s to go sledding. He and all his friends are HUGE. Nearly full-grown, but they still play like a rolling, tumbling pack of puppies. In other words: They are Dangerous. So, I agreed to drive him over there, but I requested that he find his wrist protectors to wear underneath his gloves. I believe his response was something like, "That's stupid. Nobody has to wear wrist protection for sledding. That's stupid. What? Do you think I'm gonna break my arm? That's stupid. I'm not gonna break my arm. What? I could slip and fall just walking out the back door. Do you think I should wear them all the time? That's stupid."

Note the abundance of, "That's stupid." The previous winter he'd gone snowboarding in Colorado and broke his arm on his first run. He was not wearing wrist protection.

So, last winter, I agreed to let him go if he had his wrist protection on. Assuring me that it was very stupid, I dropped him off and came back home (it's about two miles over there). Ten minutes (yes, just ten minutes) after I got back, the phone rang. It was Grunt telling me that he hurt his arm and it was bad enough that I should come and get him.

How stupid am I?

Aaaaaack!

I'm not even going to post a word count for NaNoWriMo.
Let's just say it's not going so well.
I cannot get my head into the story because I am firmly anchored here in reality with a feverish child and my own (very) early case of cabin fever brought on by being homebound this whole week.
On the bright side, the feverish child seems to have recovered (mostly) because he has been teasing the dog into a frenzy.
I'm going outside to play fetch.