Home again, home again, jiggity-jig

We arrived home at 11:00 am on Tuesday morning. Goodbye Leafy Green - Hello Rolling Prairies!!

• Starbeans' temp was 103 the night we left; it broke on the way to the airport. Thankfully, he did very well - I pushed him around in the stroller and he slept for pretty much the entire flight(s). He had woken up sick that morning and his fever waxed and waned throughout the day.
• It was a tough decision, but with 200-400 dollars in extra charges, plus no guarantee that Pumpkin and I wouldn't be sick the day we rescheduled, we decided to fly as planned. I am so thankful that he did as well as he did.
• I walked what felt like 4 miles at the Minneapolis airport, to Concourse B. In case anyone is wondering, that is where they store all the baggage trucks - pretty much at the far north (or is that east?) end of the airport, right at the entrance. The only other flight leaving from that area was to Flint, Michigan. I didn't even know of that wing's existence!
• Our flight from MSP left late and as I sat on the plane, all I could think about was how we would have been home, clean and in bed if were still living in Minneapolis.
• I rode in a propeller airplane from MSP to FSD (Sioux Falls), with 15-20 other people.
• Propeller planes are LOUD: Squeeze heard us land when he was waiting for us at the airport. That fact alone should also give you a good idea of the size of the airport in Sioux Falls.
• We walked down stairs to get off the airplane - outside, mind you - then walking to the terminal, up the stairs, then down the hall and to the escalator to the baggage claim.
• Baggage claim at FSD was, I kid you not, a total of 6 bags. Two of them were mine.
• My nostrils were greeted with the pervasive scent of fresh-flung manure when we opened the FSD door on our walk to the parking lot. Parking for over an hour was 2 dollars.
• After 10 hours en route, we arrived home. Our flight left at 12:40 am WA time: we arrived home at 11:00 am MN time (9:00 WA time) slept from 12:30 pm-7:00 pm, then again from 10:00 pm-8:30 am, then napped again at 10:30 am. Yeah, we were tired.
• Pumpkin started getting sick last night, and today is his bad day. His temp was elevated, but not as bad as Starbeans' the night we left.

Home again, home again, jiggity-jog

Enjoying the Green

Squeeze emailed last night and said that there was a snow and ice storm in the Rolling Prairies of Minnesota last night. Gak!! As my time draws near to go home, I don't know how I am going to go back to that. It is so BLAH to me, after a month of cool breezes - drizzling rain - sunny days - daffodils - tulips - budding trees - and all the glorious greenery. No wonder why every single April comes, and I continue to think: Shouldn't it be spring yet?

I mean, really: a snow and ice storm in April? Beautiful, yes...but so old by this point. Squeeze also said that I have missed the two biggest snow storms we have had since we've been there. In April. I need to continue reminding myself to be thankful for added moisture for our gardens. And who am I kidding?? I've just spent a month away from it. It has been lovely.

Looking out the window, I see a lacy-leafed maple soft-green with its new baby leaves and my parents' plum trees, dappled with light pink blooms and their darker pink leaves. It is so beautiful that I could just stare off in a haze for hours. [It actually took some time to complete that sentence, for all the staring...now I feel glazed-over and dreamy.]

Tiddly-winks and toodles to everyone, everywhere. I have some out-of-doors to soak in!

A First

I met a blogger today in real life.

Hi Jenni!!!

It was good; interesting; strange in the fact that it felt like we had already met. I was also glad to glean from the wisdom of an experienced mama. I asked a billion-and-one questions, weighing what she said carefully.

To quote myself, I said it so amazingly clear today: "It is like, all of a sudden, I don't know how to be a mama." I have come to a point where it feels like I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I mean, seriously? The life and behavioral well-being of this sometimes-disobedient demon toddler is in my hands?? Oh dear, he's not a demon. But he is most certainly sometimes-naughty. And brilliantly manipulative.

[And endlessly adorable, smart, funny, and sweet.]

I'm assuming these feelings are pretty normal, once one's own child hits 2-3 years old. [Mimi, can you relate??] I really appreciated watching a mom of older wee ones in action, to feel encouraged, brainstorm, and begin to germinate the seed of strategy. And to remember that bean and cheese quesadillas make a great lunch for a group of hungry kids. [I've got to write that down.]

Thanks Jenni!! I enjoyed our visit.

A post is a post, right?

Spin
Span
Muskidan

This one is for Laura

For any of you who have been checking in on me, sorry that I've been absent this past week! I am still at my parents' house in Western WA, soaking up daughterhood and trying to spend as much time as possible with my parents and maternal grandparents.

My grandpa, age 89, is recovering in the local nursing home from a bad fall. He broke his sacral bone after a loud crash-landing in his bathroom this past February. Thankfully, my mom was there at the time, so she was able to help him immediately - how horrific if he had been there alone, with only my half-crippled grandma to help him. I remember my mom saying that the loud booming sound of his fall made her blood run cold. Can you imagine? He was hospitalized for a few weeks, then transferred to the nursing home and has been recuperating since, as he was unable to stand or walk. Amazingly, because of the astounding Solid Rock of a Norwegian that he is, even at 89 years of age with prostate problems and emphysema, he is actually making a recovery. He is able to walk with the aid of a walker, and will be going home soon. The physical therapists have been amazed by his strength, even in his weakened condition. It is really unbelievable, because a bone-break after a tumble at that age is usually the beginning of a fairly quick ending.

He will be going home this next Tuesday, as well as my Grandma, who has been staying with my aunt these past two months. I am so glad that I am able to be here, to participate, if only peripherally. I am making chili for them today, a double batch, to freeze in meal-size portions. I can help clean their house, and I've been visiting them as much as possible with the tykes.

It is so interesting, because he continuously goes in and out of reality - including remembering his grandchildren (he always remembers his children and their spouses, thankfully). Just yesterday, in a single half-hour visit, he went from, 1) not remembering me at all, to 2) remembering me as an infant: "You were a good baby," he said, after asking who I was, to 3) knowing who I am. It was crazy. He also asked about his car repeatedly [he hasn't driven in more than a year]; wondered where his bike was; wanted to go home; said, "Laurel and Lea [my aunt and Grandma] went to Canada yesterday and had a really good time"; and asked if his parents were at home. "Do you know how old you are, Dad?" my mom asked, to which he replied without any hesitation, "Seventy!"

He is the master of one-liners, even in his decline. My favorite recent story involving his wit [mixed with confusion] is when my brother and his girlfriend were sitting with my grandparents this past winter, at home in their chairs in their blazing-hot living room. Like most old folks, they keep the heat cranked to unbearable levels. My grandpa was sleeping, of course [he spends 80% of his daytime hours asleep these days], and they were talking with my grandma, going over and over her favorite stories. My grandpa stirred, started looking around his chair, then groggily asked, "Where did I put that darn hammer...?" My brother and his girlfriend searched around obligingly, then inquired, "What hammer, Grandpa?" He surfaced a bit, then said, "That's what I'm trying to figure out!" before drifting off into sleep again.

Oh, Lester. We love you.

When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie...

Well, that's amooooooore. Nutmegg Mama introduced this to me via her blog and I can't - stop - singing.

Oh dear, small airports, and to be a daughter again

I'm in Western WA at my parents' house - we flew in Thursday morning, after getting up at 4:30 a.m. to get to the airport and spending about 9 hours en route. Funny, because in Minneapolis, it was 4-5 hours. We're living out there, baby: and, well, it added quite a bit of time onto any kind of traveling.

It actually went very well; both baby and toddler were even tempered and easy to entertain. It was such a relief, because much of my week [spent dodging carpenters and electricians, btw - the remodel wasn't complete until Friday, the day after I left] was spent dreading it. People's favorite thing to say to me was, "Boy, it looks like you have your hands full!" Yep.

And don't even get me started on the Sioux Falls airport - it looked like a rinky-dink bus depot from the outside. We were late, of course, and I ran up to the security stop panicked, telling them that my flight was leaving in 10 minutes, and I needed to get through. There were 20-30 people in line ahead of me and I fretted that I'd never make it in time. The security officer was quite rude, saying, "Yes, everyone else is too." I was incredulous, and said again, "Excuse me, my flight is leaving in 10 minutes - I don't think I'm going to be able to make it!" And again, she said, "Everyone else is too!" and then ignored me.

And really, everyone else was: just like she said. There was only one flight leaving from the Sioux Falls airport that morning, and that. was. it. Oh, the humiliation. My list grows with every passing month. I'm just not used to the smallness of it all. [Even more humiliating, my flight wasn't actually leaving in 10 minutes; I was somehow confused and we actually had a half-hour before departure. Doh!!]

Oh dear.

I must say, it feels so good to be home; it is nice to be a daughter again. I know that I'm always a daughter, but it feels so good to be home; taken care of; under my parents' roof: a daughter again. And the green-smelling earthy air! I could just faint in the bed of moss under my parents' plum trees and lay there forever, like a sleeping fairy. I'd get wet, of course, but it would be dreamy.

It trips off the tongue with the greatest of ease

ONE-ERY, TWO-ERY, TICKERY SEVEN;
HALLIBO, CRACKIBO, TEN AND ELEVEN.

SPIN, SPAN, MUSKIDAN;
TWIDDLE-UM, TWADDLE-UM, TWENTY-ONE.

Kitchen, being remodeled

Why yes, that kitchen counter is as only as tall as a two year old. What's wrong with that? A whole lotta crap, I'll tell you. Our kitchen is in the process of being remodeled right now [it was initially slated to start in January, but it just started today - no biggie, though]. The entire kitchen is wheelchair accessible, which was probably very nice for the lady in the chair that lived here 15 years ago, but not so nice for us.

The top cupboards have already been raised. See the white in the wall? That is where the cupboards used to be. There is still a whole list of things to do, like raise the window, raise the counter tops and stove top, electrical, plumbing, and finishing work. We're getting a new sink, too! The current one, I kid you not, is 6 inches deep: a total pain in the butt.

We are also getting a new dishwasher, as the old one cooked food onto the plates instead of cleaning it off, and got RID of that dratted microwave. I am SO GLAD to be rid of that thing. We've lived the last 7 years without a dishwasher or a microwave. I'm ready for a dishwasher, but I will N-E-V-E-R own a microwave again. No, never. [Along with being an utter waste of space, it creates health concerns from merely operating it. Magnetic fields? No thanks! Fats damaged on a molecular level? Take a hike and never come back!]

I had an actual physical reaction when I walked into the kitchen this afternoon and saw what they had accomplished thus far. I didn't realize what a cave it had felt like in there, with everything bearing down on you. It feels so freeing! Just in time for spring.

One-one-one-one

I swear, I can't even tell you how many times I spontaneously look at the clock at 11:11 - never planned, not even knowing it is close. I would say that this happens several times a week.

It is just uncanny.

Seeing it is like locking eyes with someone staring at you from across a room - I'm always surprised and it sends chills down my spine. And then I smile a little smile to myself and think, "Again??"

Oh yes, again. Be amazed.

Fragrance explosion!

The year that we became pregnant with Starbeans, Squeeze and I went through a minor Gesneriad Craze (Sinningias and African Violets are a part of this family) and joined the MN Chapter of The [American] Gesneriad Society. We were the youngest members by 20-30 years; we even got the comment of, "It's good to get some fresh blood in here!" at one of the meetings from a grizzled veteran.

While our participation was short-lived, it enabled us to take some amazing tours of established greenhouses, familiarized us with the Gesneriad family, and helped us widen our then-large, now mid-sized, plant collection via trades and purchases.

This little baby, Sinningia 'Peach Bouquet', is one of our resulting additions from the Gesneriad Craze. It may have bloomed before, but I must have been completely oblivious to its charm at the time [baby-brain]. We now have no doubt as to why it was named, 'Peach Bouquet' - and it isn't just its color. The flower's fragrance is staggering: putting your nose into the bloom and inhaling is like a trip to another land, its scent is that wonderful. Peachy-keen, I should say, and cute to boot.

Sinningia 'Peach Bouquet'

One, two, three [things]

Hooray! I just finished my order for Pumpkin's Birth Announcement pictures; while I was at it, I ordered a bunch of pictures for both his and Starbeans' baby journals. Yesssssssssssss. I love journals and/or daybooks with the accompaniment of photos: it adds such depth when looking back. I can imagine that when they are older they will read them with even more intrigue because of it.

Secondly, I am so pleased: I actually got a chance to read a few chapters on chicken keeping this afternoon. I have to admit; amidst the excitement, the reality of how much work it is going to be coupled with our lack of experience is a little intimidating. It sounds like a lot of work from this side of the fence. Nonetheless, we will proceed. We can do it, yes we can!

And finally, look at this darling picture. Pumpkin and I were squealing together at our reflection in the mirror the other night. Isn't he just a scream? He was loving it.

Time frittering

My free-time has been so limited of late that when I actually do have an hour or two to myself, I feel like a deer in the headlights. I have no idea what to do.

So, tonight, instead of attempting to peck away at my lengthy To Do list, with the following Top Two nagging on my brain day and night:

• Ordering pictures for Pumpkin's Birth Announcement [he's 5 months old]
• Reading 4 different books, two of them VIPs on chicken keeping and herb gardening

I re-organized my Favorites and caught up on the blogs I enjoy. Sheesh.

Circa 1977

We think Pumpkin looks a lot like me. This picture shows it, bigtime: there I am, baby borealis, in my daddy's arms. My grandparents sent me this scan awhile back because they were noticing the similarities as well. [Thus, the watermark; it has been hanging on the front of our refrigerator.]

Now I always baby-talk the Little One and say, "Do you look like me?? Ooooo-gooooo-ooooo-gggggggh!" He likes it.

Hey Dad, you stole my haircut!
Or maybe I stole yours.

More disgusting fly-related surprises

• It was a beautiful 52 degrees on Monday.
• I opened the backdoor to hear a loud orchestrated buzzing noise, as if bees were swarming.
• I thought, "Hmmm...that's strange."
• Later, I looked out the backdoor and there, in the sun, were hundreds of disgusting flies wiggling and buzzing and hopping around in the warmth of the sun on the grass.
• It gave me the heebie-jeebies.
• I've been vacuuming up dozens of flies everyday from the window upstairs that receives a southern exposure. They swarm to it. When it gets cold, they all lay on their backs and wiggle their legs; then, when it warms up, they are back to rubbing their filthy little legs together and buzzing around. Gak!
• I am swatting 15-20 flies in the main part of the house every day.
• Starbeans is squishing them with his fingers if they fly low enough. EEEEEEEK!!!
• I think we need to get a sticky fly trap. I've seen them in rural houses before and always thought they were atrociously grotesque and wondered how people could keep them in their homes. Well...I'm discovering it is much, much better than the alternative: which is flies roaming free indoors.
• When I look at their furry little bodies, against my will, I often imagine myself crunching down on them between my teeth. I have no idea where that comes from, but it is sick. SICK, I tell you.
• I find this all very revolting.

Oh yes I did, or more aptly titled: Good enough - Oops, I did it again - Crap - I guess I'll wear piggy-tails for awhile - or - Finally!

My former co-workers and friends may remember my history of cutting my own hair for better - or much, much worse. However, I remember one spring when I did such a fantastic job that people I didn't even know stopped by my desk to marvel at it for 2-3 days. Really, it was great: I went home from work one day with loooong hair and came in the next with a kind of short little bob, borealis-style.

[Or...maybe it wasn't so fantastic like I thought, and it was more of a freakish spectacle. Ha! Whatever it was, I thought it was a pretty amazing job at the time.]

The desire hits me every March or April; without a doubt, it coincides with Cabin Fever [which I get every single spring, from one extent to another...hmmm...Vitamin D...?]. I need a change, I'm tired of the same old thing, and, due to my lazy habits, my hair usually needs it badly.



This spring has been particularly bad (hair-wise) because,

1. I haven't had a hair-cut, not even a trim, in a year and a half (zoinks!),
2. and as you can imagine, my split ends had split ends,
3. Baby Pumpkin has reached the age where he grabs whatever his little hands touch with a vice-grip rivaling that of a steel bear trap (yeeeouch!), and
4. Starbeans' comfort...of all things...is my neck. My hair was so long that he was having trouble getting at it while snuggling before naps and bedtime. The night before last, he said, "Mama, get your hair out of the way!"

[Yes, Starbeans loves my neck. When he gets tired or hurt or just wants to snuggle, he says, "Touch neck, Mama" and will literally sit or stand by me, and simply have his hand resting on my neck. He does this with Squeeze while they are cuddling, too. Before Pumpkin was born, his comfort was always my breasts, but that wasn't going to work with milky boobs - so I slowly weaned him from it and it moved northwards for him very naturally. It is nice, since Squeeze has a neck too.]

I've been scheming on my haircut for weeks now: contemplating asking my MIL to do it; working out a baby-sitter so I could get my hair done at...let's see...Blondie's, in town; and finally, in my desperation, planning to do it myself. The catch is that I needed to do it when the baby was napping, which, while he still takes 4-5 naps a day, they are often 45 minutes or less. That isn't much time to give oneself a haircut, ladies!


So...I did a quick hack-job yesterday morning. And while it may not look good, my goodness, does it feel good! And that was the main goal. It is like a weight off my neck; I can have it in cute little pigtails, Starbeans can get at it easily, it isn't flying up in my face and driving me insane, and best of all, if feels silky again. Yes, girls. It was time.

Optimism makes a comeback, with vegetables and chickens dancing and prancing in my head

After my small freak-out over the weather and feeling all cooped up, I'm back to my usual optimistic self.

First off, I realized today that more snow means more moisture in the ground and more moisture means healthier plants. I definitely like that - I can cope. Additionally, the more I thought about being freezing cold with no snow cover, just the ugly bare ground - the more I remembered that I'd rather have snow. Even if it is March. [Being from the Pacific Northwest makes Midwest winters even more unbearable. Crocuses are already up in Western Washington!! I'm so jealous.]

Secondly, Squeeze and I ordered all of our seeds and starter plants (peppers & tomatoes) from Seed Savers Exchange this afternoon. Eek! I can hardly wait. Just thinking of names like Blacktail Mountain Watermelon, Hidatsa Shield Figure Bean, Grandma Einck's Dill, Five Color Silverbeet Swiss Chard make me smile - not to mention the tomato called Amish Paste, or actually getting to eat all this good stuff! It is so exciting, and has revived my enthusiasm for moving out to what seems like the Middle of Nowhere from our cozy - albeit, comparatively cramped - city life.

Thirdly, double-eek! we have decided on the chickens we want.

• Buff Orpington
• Ameraucana
• Silver Laced Wyandotte
• Black Australorp
• White Leghorn
• Barred Rock
  

I know...it is so many. I think we're going to buy 25-30 of them in a straight-run [definition: Straight run. Newly hatched chicks that have not been sexed; also called "unsexed" or "as hatched." - we just learned what this meant this weekend] and butcher all the males except the one we like best. That way, we'll have birds for stock in addition to a [hopefully] mid-sized flock of laying hens.

We originally thought that we would get all females, but I've read that the roosters take care of the hens - looking out for predators, keeping everyone safe and together (I actually think I read that in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle). I just ordered 3-4 chicken husbandry books from the library as well - without a doubt, we need to know as much as possible.

The Ameraucanas lay green, blue, or pink eggs. Everyone else lays light-to-dark brown eggs, except for the Leghorn, whose eggs are white. That was was Squeeze's pick. I want 'em as wild as I can get 'em: and for me, that means colorful! The very thought of pretty eggs thrills me.

I'm also extremely smitten by the beauty of the Silver Lace Wyandotte. See?

Silver Laced Wyandotte

Seriously, I love this girl

This girl can move! It's Leslie Hall: THIS IS HOW WE GO OUT is my favorite song - Squeeze likes Gold Pants.

Wicky wicky wicky wack!

Another one from out of nowhere

Starbeans is sick right now. I've been attempting to NOT kiss Pumpkin, in case I have what Starbeans has (I don't want 2 sick babes), but I had no idea how hard it would be. I think I must smooch his little face 30-40 times a day, with how many times I've had to stop myself!

Funny...because I would have never have noticed otherwise.

Out of nowhere

For lunch today, I had tuna and cheese on flatbread with pickled beets and Kettle chips. It was quite, quite satisfying - a nice array of flavors.