Weirdness for One's Day

It would appear that Blogger's "one hour" of maintenance is finally done. One should not complain though, since the service is free. So, I would like to officially go on record as not complaining....

Negotiations are still in progress with Dr. WrathofKahn concerning his amazing feat of bioengineering. We hope to have his interview beamed via blog satellite very soon. In the meantime, to keep your mental faculties razor sharp, a few links shall be offered in hopes that someone, somewhere will be amused, somehow.

For those college students not certain of their major, here is a unique offering. The truth is out there....somewhere.

In thinking ahead to the Christmas season, we offer hope that no one's presents will be delayed, thanks to a timely settlement.

Animal lovers, these two are for you! A new project for your pet, or you, if either wants to get in the record books. I think it's a little sicko, but what do I know? At least I don't have the pest control problems this airline has.

Also in the animal vein, but eerily abstract, if you believe these observers of gorillas.

I say we let them have laptops, and see what happens....

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The Ma Side

Regrets on "The Road Taken" (....and that has made all the difference.....)

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What I learned today....

• Diet Vanilla Coke is bad. Very, very bad.
  
  
• There is no Dove's Dark Choclate to be had in Iowa Falls. That is sad. Very, very sad.
  
  
• I can make my very own bulleted (unnumbered) list! I am smug. Very, very smug.
  
  

As to the first item on the unnumbered list: I only bought vanilla because my favorite grocery store was out of the cherry, and I was too cheap to travel back across town to the more expensive store. However, upon tasting it, I quickly came to the conclusion that this was not a possible substitute. In fact, I could not finish the can. I had Kendra stop the car and I poured it out as a humble sacrifice onto the gravel road. I'm thinkin' around seven ants were sacrificed. They looked humble, too. Going belly up does that to an ant....

Following that, there was nothing left to do but cleanse the palate with a Dove's Dark Chocolate. One of a dwindling number.

Having determined not to make that same mistake this week, I made sure I procured the needed beverage before our last stop, El Cheapo Grocerio. Naturally, I paid more for it, and then found it at my regular food mart. (really, you just can't win, sometimes) As to the extra cans of vanilla Coke, I think I can palm them off on some unsuspecting folk at church. (it's time to find out JUST WHO reads the blog...)

Concerning item #2 of the unnumbered list, I have this to say...."Has the whole world gone mad?!" Do they not know that this is part of Loren's medicinal regimen? Not to mention, ME. The fact that chocolates have been disappearing in increasing numbers of late only points to the fact that some of us need more "medicine" than others....*delicately dabs corners of mouth* Loren will have to content himself with Hershey's Special Dark Bar this week. As for me, I may as well hit the diet train again. Starting tomorrow. And you know what that means.....pig out tonight!

For the last bullet on the list....what can I say? It is never too late for an old Ma to learn new tricks. After I master HTML, I plan on tackling C++, Fortran, and then, who knows? Maybe even Vulcan, or something.

Until then,

"Live long and prosper."

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When using an electric blanket.....

.....it helps if you don't have the controls mixed up.

All night long, Loren was too cold, and I was too hot. I could have sworn I had turned my side off, but for some funny reason, it just kept getting hotter. During this same period of time, Loren couldn't get warm and kept hiking up the heat level....

I'm thinking he might have done it on purpose, because, as we all know, older people have always sought to harass us youngsters. Personally, I think it's a conspiracy.

On a totally unrelated note, rumor has it that our intrepid reporter, Bob MacCackle, may well have landed himself an EXCLUSIVE interview with that scientist of apple renown, Dr. WrathofKahn.

Developing......

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The Ma Side

".....and in other news, the scientific world was stunned today, when an obscure lab in Iowa unveiled what can only be deemed a bioengineering marvel.............the Shetland Apple." (developing....)

[5:00 news]DATELINE: IOWA--the Jim-Bob (Really Special) Report

"Good evening everyone. Jim McDonald, here, with some startling developments in the frontiers of science. We go now to Bob MacCackle, our Iowa field reporter, who has been closely monitoring this latest technological breakthrough. Bob? What can you tell us?"

"Well Jim, it's enough to knock your socks right off, if I may speak both candidly and metaphorically. Fortunately, I always keep a pair of spare argyles with me....."

"The breakthrough, Bob. What about the breakthrough?"

"Oh, right....*sound of shuffling papers*....Basically, Jim, it's a whole new life form. A local Iowa bioengineering lab has just come out with a totally new type of apple. It's so small, it can fit in the palm of your hand, if you can believe that, Jim!"

"Uh, Bob, I can hold an ordinary apple in my palm right now..."

"Ah'm a hearin' ya, Jimbo. Just let me elaborate. When I say palm, I mean palm pilot. Yessiree, now we can pack a little snack into our pockets, along with our brains. These new Shetland Apples are small enough to fit in anyone's custom pockets, purse, or cell phone holders. They're just as small as cherry tomatoes, only not nearly so squishy. What's not to love, Jim? What's not to LOVE?"

"Ok, Bob. We can see they are small, but how economical will they be to produce? Is this new variety of apple ready for mass marketing?"

"Well, not quite, Jim. As a matter of fact, there is only one, so far..."

"One apple, Bob! What in the name of pommes is going on, here?"

"Hey, Jimbo, cool your jets, man. This new apple was developed by cloning a Red Delicious with a Shetland pony. It's taken years of trial and error to get to this point. After all, when they brought out "Dolly" there was only one of her. Besides, I don't think apples get arthritis....*turns to scientist*...Hey, Dr. WrathofKahn, do these apples get arthritis like that lame sheep, Dolly?...."

"Sorry to interrupt, Bob, but it looks like we're out of time. *turns to audience* You can be sure we'll be monitoring this story very closley. And Bob. We are certainly going to be monitoring Bob, as well."

"For Bob MacCackle, this is Jim McDonald with this Really Special Report, saying, 'Goodnight.'"

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If it's September......

......it must be apple picking time.

And so another seasonal milestone passes: the annual picking of the apples.

Finally, a use for all those computer case boxes. First, though, I had to empty out approximately four large trash bags worth of plastic peanuts, bubble-wrap, Styrofoam, and something I like to call, "big air-pockets encased in plastic."

Oh, there were a few moaners. Jason was reluctant to part with his lap-top, and certain short people thought they were entitled to the step-ladder. But it all worked out, with only a dozen or so apples being completely out of reach. We can always shake those down later to make wine. (I'm kidding, Mom :-)

The very best part--other than taking a nap and eating oodles of home-made tapioca pudding which I stirred while reading a book about Civil War spy Rose O'Neal Greenhow-- *HUGE intake of breath* --was not having to pick any apples, but do something restful, like mow the lawn.

And so, at the close of a semi-successful day, I leave you with this ancient Irish blessing:

May you rise to meet the apples,
May the clippings be always to the side,
And may you ever have children to-do-all-that-time-consuming-stuff-you-couldn't-be-bothered-with.

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The Ma Side

Sometime around harvest, the two corn plants realized their experiments in herbaceous reincarnation had gone horribly, horribly wrong.....

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Of Ends and Odds

"Maxwell Smart" died today. Or perhaps I should say, Don Adams. Or, to be perfectly accurate, Donald James Yarmy.

"Get Smart" was one of the few TV shows we were allowed to watch, as children. (others permitted were, "The Flintstones," and "Time Tunnel," to name two. Also, just about any National Geographic special)

I have vivid memories of one episode where someone caught a tarantula with a jar. The catch being, the jar was full of mayonaise at the time. That, and agent Smart's nasal voice talking into his shoe. Ah.....memories. Now most of the "happenin'" shows involve creepy supernatural themes or lame space adventures. Hardly anyone talks into a shoe phone, anymore.

And speaking of diversity, I'm sure we are all relieved to know that Barbara Streisand has taken valuable time out from promoting her latest CD, to call attention to the Global Warming emergency.

Wouldn't it be great if a little thoughtful investigation went into these calls for mass anxiety? Say, checking out the historical record, for example? Or, maybe even consulting and listening to people in a position to know a few facts about the situation?

But then, it's so awfully hard to get those research grants, if there isn't something incredibly scary approaching. Notra Trulock reports in an October 2002 Accuracy In Media article:

It's Not About the Science

The dirty secret is that global warming is driven more by the search for funding than the search for scientific truth. "Big science" was adrift in the early 1990s, like many other beneficiaries of the Cold War, and was desperate to sustain its federal funding. Global warming had all the key attributes of the next big cause. It could be used to frighten the politicians and the public, using threats of catastrophic consequences to extract billions of dollars for research to prevent it. The science was immature, and the door was wide open to all sorts of proposals and projects by scientists promising solutions. High-performance computers were the tools, and the projects promised to be long-term and career-sustaining. Getting funds was easy. As MIT Professor Lindzen has noted, "saving the planet" had a nice ring to it and seemed to portend big bucks at the end of the global warming rainbow.

Mankind's fault AND lucrative. A real winning combination. You can check out the entire AIM Report # 15, here.

*sigh*

I have no intention of turning this into a political rant/blog. But one just can't keep quiet, forever....

Tomorrow, back to the usual "world distracting" drivel you've come to expect :-)

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Glimpsed in the sky over a tiny Iowan hamlet one evening, these altostratus clouds give incontrovertible proof.....that.....the legend of Zorro lives on.......

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Looking east.....

....and yes, it's raining

[3:41 p.m. Sunday] OK, I should probably clarify that this picture was taken of a sunrise, just not this morning. Sometime in the last two weeks.

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I blame Thainamu and the Internet (provider)

Yes, it is all their fault.

I was merrily conversing with two people over IM this morning, when our Internet connection went down. And we are nowhere near a hurricane.

So, remembering the inspiring example a certain Dallas missionary set in cleaning out her closet, I thought to myself, "This is as good a time as any to organize my pictures."

Back when my oldest son was first helping me transfer pictures from camera to computer, he took one look at the glazed expression in my eyes, and said, "It might be easiest if we just label the folder with the date, for now..."

Twelve different folders and twelve different dates later, I find it a little time consuming to locate certain pictures that I know are.....somewhere.

Hence, the need for new names, with something a little more descriptive than, "07-07-05." And while I am at it, I decided to delete a few unnecessary photos. After all, no one really needs twenty pictures of the same rose bush, from the same angle.

It feels so wonderful to have logical names for my folders. Names like, "Moon almost in focus," "Moon really close to focus," and "Sun? Moon? I give up...."

I still have the Scholl wedding to organize and post about. (heh, heh) A lot of family reunion pics. And here's an obscure but enticing folder, "Food-pics-sure-to-make-Moore-drool."

Nowhere nearly finished, yet, but have gotten a decent start.

And another reason I should give credit to Thainamu, is that, besides actually giving me instructions so I could post pictures onto the blog, she has pushed the publishing envelope, posting a picture of her accomplishments in pest extermination. Yes, she has paved the way for the rest of us to poach and post in wild abandon. (how DID that whole thing with PETA turn out, Linda?)

The end result being, I have enough sunsets and moon rises to keep everyone warmed to the very cockles of their hearts, this winter.

*resumes folder shuffling*

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To all my good buddies in Texas....

Stay safe.

I hope:

- Rita downgrades,

- the eye doesn't stall out over Longview,

and,

be assured that we will definitely continue to pray for you....

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Birthday gift?

...or product of a twisted mind?

See, it all started a couple of years ago, at family camp. Several of us ladies were comparing "chocolate notes." (this is something women frequently do in their ever-continuing quest for mood enhancement)

Now, I have little recollection of the exact conversation--a trait I have come to rely upon--but, I am told that I made disparaging comments to another female concerning her intake of Tootsies Rolls. It is quite possible that I described them as tasting like "plastic chocolate," I don't know. Apparently, this person, nay, her whole FAMILY tucked this little morsel of knowledge back into the dark recesses of their collective minds, for future reference.

LEAP forward two years, if you will, to my most current birthday. (it was Sept. 15, and I turned 47, not that we're keeping track, or anything) I am at church, minding my own business and hob-nobbing about, when up walks Laura Severs, with one of those pretty bags people use when they are TOO LAZY TO WRAP A PRESENT! (just kidding, Laura :-) Trying my best not to look too greedy, I snatched it from her, yelling, "Gimme, gimme!"

Upon looking inside, I beheld a lovely glass jar, filled with not so lovely looking tootsie rolls. Oh, don't get me wrong, they looked FINE, if you like tootsie rolls, but....well.....I did my best to appear unshocked, yet appreciative. And, I was hoping no one would notice the sudden twitching in my left eye.

What was even worse was the attached note, "Do not share these with anybody!" My plans for surreptitiously tossing them to the kids was evaporating, even as I dissembled.

It was THEN, that I noticed the sly gleams of amusement in the eyes of the giver and her equally sneaky mother. Something was afoot and we were not talkin' plantar warts.

I looked again at the gift, making close examination of the wrapped candies. They certainly looked authentic....but still.....

My intuition suddenly usurping my reason, I reached into the jar, extracted one of the pathetic excuses for chocolate and began unwrapping.....and lo and behold!...'twas a Dove's Dark Chocolate! Or rather, half of one.

For you see, Laura had carefully unwrapped a multitude of tootsie rolls, just as carefully halved "several" dark chocolates, and then RE-wrapped the Dove's in the loathsome tootsie roll wrappers. Can you believe it?

I mean, WHAT KIND OF INTELLECT THINKS up these ways to mess with Ma's mind?

Bravo, Laura :-)

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Hand in hand, across the great expanse

"And some day, Trevor, all this could be yours...."
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One of the tremendous thrills that follows harvest, is the freedom to walk across a neatly clipped field. This is the only time of year the children are allowed out in the field, since, a) it doesn't be-long to us, b) I don't feel comfortable having them too far away from the house, and c) it only last for a week or so, until the field is plowed.

But in those few days, comes a freedom to explore and walk and just feel encompassed by a huge empty space.

Also, the kids like to make forts, forage for stray beans, and have wars. Bean wars are not quite as exciting as corn wars, because let's face it, you just can't throw a cob of beans, since that particular collective noun combination doesn't exist.

But the short-lived freedom to roam the field is most fun, and appreciated to a greater degree since it comes but once a year, and even then, only for a week.

*ahem*

"Walk on!
O bean extractors.
Walk on!

Be free,
Be wandering.
Be wanderingly freeish.

And.....
Make the most of it,
'Cause, like, you will soon be cooped up all winter, with nothing between you and insanity but your schoolwork, your computer games, and gifts of chocolate for votre chère maman."

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The Ma Side

Day after day, Ethan positioned himself in Farmer Frey's line of vision....confident his exceptional work skills would be evident, culminating in the obvious end result......his "hiring on" as a farm hand

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JUST when you think things are comfortably dull.....

.....a little excitement flares up.

Sorry to annoy y'all three times in one day, but really, when breaking news occurs, Ma posts.

So anyway, Ethan, Carolyn and I had been putting the spades to work when Kendra alerted us to some smoke in the nearby field. Our favorite farmer was out of his combine and kicking at some smoldering bits of stuff in the dirt....."Come on, Ethan! Grab a shovel. We gotta help him!"

There was just enough wind, and a faulty bearing in the combine to...uh....combine to make a "situation." We trotted over to the field (it is far enough, one cannot run) by which time Mr. Frey was calling the fire department on his cell phone. I helped him with our address and street name, handed him a shovel and set to work with the one I had. They weren't big fires, but there were several, and the wind kept just enough ahead to keep us busy. Ethan and Carolyn had come with me, and they were kicking at it with their shoes.

Then Mr. Frey noticed more little bits of smoke rising all the way back along the far side in several places. So, I jogged along, whapping and piling dirt as I went. I finally had to walk, I just couldn't run any more and was feeling a little dizzy, but kept at it. And he came along in the combine and got to the far end first. Well, I think we got it all out, but by this time, Kendra had to come over with a hoe, for the front fires had rekindled. Kendra worked on the front, and Melinda and Carolyn came behind me, 'cause honestly, that ol' wind just kept us hoppin'!

I think we had it all put out by the time the fire department got there, but they went to the back of the field and may have sprayed a little, I don't know. *cough, gasp*

Ethan and Carolyn were so redfaced, and Nolan was so disappointed he didn't get to ride in the combine ("Nolan, it was on fire, fer cryin' out loud...!") that I caved and acquiesced to yet another viewing of "Rocky and Bullwinkle." We all need a little break from reality, once in a while.

And so, I learned two, no three things today:
1) It is entirely possible that Ma and Pa Ingles did put out that prairie fire,
2) Judging by this burning sensation in my lungs, I am REALLY out of shape, and,
3) Having a lotta kids can come in handy....

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The Ma Side

The outdated monitors huddled nervously in the chill of dawn, hardly daring to look skyward. Hoping.....praying.....that their beacon signal had been heard by the mother ship.....

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Harvests and World Warpage

Well, who could be so cruel as to keep young lads inside when the combine is gathering bushels of beans by the minute? Not I. Though, Derek, now 14, reminded me that when he was still at the nap-taking age, I made him take his afternoon nap during harvest, and he was EVER so grateful to wake up and find a little strip of field left to be finished.

One hopes he will not be scarred for life.

I guess it is true, that the tail-enders benefit from the less rigid and (I hope) wiser parenting methods of us oldsters over 40. Or 45, for that matter. Not that we let up on the important things, but one tends to not obsess about quite the same stuff that bothered us twenty years ago.

It might actually be more important to make certain the first ones tow the line, so that the others have a good example to follow. I'll let you know in another fifteen years, or so.

In the meantime, I can take a certain pleasure in knowing that these last ones can receive more of my attention. Plus, it is just so utterly rewarding, knowing that this relaxed attitude will stick in the craw of the older kids/young adults.

And speaking of harvests, I have started compiling my own treasury of children's books. These will be held under virtual lock and key, to be kept in pristine condition for any future grandchildren. Oh, I may bring them out on occasion to read to my youngest ones, but then I will have to blindfold them and spin them into dizziness while I sneak the volumes back to my secret cache.

Today's arrival? "Avocado Baby," by John Burningham. It is a little loose in the binding, but that's what you get for purchasing a $3.00 discarded library edition, instead of a $20.00 posting that someone is obviously trying to get rich on.

This book joins a little gem, previously unknown to me, which I picked up in a second-hand shop: "The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales," by Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith. Now this is one even college persons would enjoy, with "new" old favorites such as, "The Really Ugly Duckling," and "The Princess and the Bowling Ball," to name two.

It's a little warped, but when you get to be my age, warped doesn't look nearly as crooked as it used to....

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The only thing better than planting time......

.....is HARVEST time. (Farmer Frey waves to his adoring fans.)

Well, I guess I won't be seeing much of those three, tonight and tomorrow.

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The Ma Side

The dream of every larvologist.......to find the ancient spawning grounds of the Fuzzy-Wuzzy caterpillar

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"Where's the (root) beer?"

We left for church this morning and ended up in Cedar Rapids instead of Allison. And no, the GPS was not malfunctioning. We thought it would be nice to visit Ardith's church, and maybe even her, since we would be in the vicinity :-)

Of course, one does not just swoop down on an unsuspecting church with eight children in tow. The logistics had to be CAREFULLY planned:

-spill proof fireman sipper cup, filled with water.....check
-zip-lock baggy filled with 7 grain wheat crackers.....check
-diaper bag filled with pencils, small spiral notebooks, lift the flap books, and...well....DIAPERS......check
-Dove's Dark Chocolates in purse......check
-diet Cherry Coke in cooler, for wife to drink so she can keep hubby awake on return trip.....check
-someone's laptop to play "Finding Nemo" on the return trip, to entertain children who had been sitting for about 5 hours.....check

And so, with the essentials safely loaded in the van we herded the children into the vehicle and proceeded down the road. It was not five minutes into the 2 hour trip but that Trevor had asked several times, "Are we awmoss der-wuh?"

*sigh*

As we approached our target destination, it was time to review the last minute strategy for "blending in." We instructed the children to advance to the church door in groups of twos and threes, at 5 minute intervals. The purpose of this plan: to not attract undue attention. Of course, when Trevor, Nolan and Ethan sat down by themselves in a pew, the game was pretty much up....

And, such nice, long and cushioned pews! Enough for our whole family to sit together. And, Ardith even agreed to sit WITH us. (these are the moments, that make a parent's heart swell with pride) Being the outgoing, glad handing folks that we are, we chatted with someone afterwards, (a father of 7) who had also worked at Rockwell Collins, and also was a software engineer. Yes, ol' Ma was yucking it up with people she didn't even know, and now, poor Ardith will probably be forced to find another church....(if you do, dear, just let us know when we can come visit, again :-)

Really, there is nothing more thrilling than being a help to one's offspring.

And, speaking of ungrateful children, I noticed IBC root beer sitting in her fridge, IN PLAIN SIGHT, and despite carefully planted hints throughout this past week, NOT ONE SAMPLE TASTE was offered to cool a parched and chocolate singed tongue.

But it's OK, Ardith. Really. I forgive you.....*choke....sob*

(do not let this little oversight, in any way, prevent you from having a good week, ma chère :D

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The beauty of the ordinary.....

.....a typical Iowa farm

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The Ma Side

In which Vinnie (The Sneak) Mouse learns "V" does not stand for "victory."

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Ma buys out the library

Despite having to dig through the usual romance drivel, as well as "Christian" historical and end-times close-to-drivel, I managed to come away with the following from Hampton's library book sale:

Fear No Evil by Natan Sharansky
Son of the Morning Star (Custer and the Little Bighorn) by Evan s. Connell
Up From Liberalism by William F. Buckley Jr.
Reverence for Life by Albert Schweitzer
Charlemagne by Harold Lamb
John Keats: the Making of a Poet by Aileen Ward
The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass
Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad
The Godfather by Mario Puzo
The Portable Emerson edited by Carl Bode
1984 by George Orwell
Buddenbrooks by Thomas Mann
The Little Minister by J. M. Barrie
The Book of Guys by Garrison Keillor
The Enchanted Castle by E. Nesbit

and a few others, including "Call of the Wild," "Jane Eyre," "Wuthering Heights" and a couple from Alfred Hitchcock.

All totaled, 38 books (counting some Kendra and Derek picked out) for about $.60 per book, many of them hardbacks.

I plan to keep them all, unless, a convincing case can be made by....others.

*whistles nonchalantly*

(There would need to be a considerable amount of begging and groveling, also)

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The Ma Side

No one ever saw the road grader cough up the gravel fur balls, but they appeared in the monolith's wake, just the same....

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"It's my birthday, and I'll shop if I want to.....

....Shop if I want to...woh, woh, wohhh, woh."

So, Kendra and I went off to do the weekly shopping, today. I'd forgotten to get stuff for my birthday meal and dessert and....well.....truth be told, I was almost out of CHOCOLATE! As you can see, things were getting desperate.

Feeling rather puckish, I decked myself out in a Laura Petrie look: cigarette pants, (capris that go to the ankle, and hey, I didn't make up the name :-) sneakers and a sleeveless turtle-neck. (all hand-me-downs from rich folks, or Goodwill...um...goods) Then, right before we left, I practiced a couple of "Oh, ROB!'s" in the mirror. It was great.

Since we had not visited Goodwill for over a week, we simply HAD to stop there. Thankfully, we were free to delve into the racks at will, having left all the younger kids at home to watch "Mothra," of the Godzilla series. 'Tis a flick most strange and forgettable, and that's why the little kids enjoy it. If you have a hankerin' for cheesy effects and miniaturized twins who sing--not to mention monsterish larvae--this is the movie for you.

But getting back to purchasing more chocolate, we entered "Everyman's Store," and proceeded to fill our cart. One little splurge that I acquired was a two disc CD of Spanish Guitar. Actually, it is "The Spanish Guitar," so, I assume there is only one in existence, or this was a recording of the first. Unfortunately, when played at home, it too, proved forgettable. Unless you like guys in the background constantly saying, "Bueno!," words ending in "-mundo!" and "-erito!" this is not the CD for you. A few guitar thumps and hand claps I would have expected, but honestly, the spoken words and sound effects were to SUCH excess, that I couldn't help recalling that old commercial, "That's no way to kill roaches!" (one can't help a little nostalgia on one's birthday, can one? Anybody else remember that commercial?)

Mysteriously enough, Windows Media Player will no longer play my CD's, now that I have played the first disc español. I haven't quite figured out how this fits into the space/time continuum, but it's only a matter of time.

Birthdays don't make me cringe. I may be 47, but Loren is 54. So, no matter what age I am, he will always be older. Somehow, that just makes me feel sorta young, and fresh.

And, while he may be wiser, my Goodwill shopping skills are unsurpassed.

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Oh, to be a reporter.....

....and stumble upon a hot scoop such as this.

(Watch your backs, O Lawyers. Or you may soon discover reporters vying with you for the public's overall affection and admiration...)

I could be wrong, but I suspect this photo, if corroborated, would cast serious doubt on the deity-like qualities attributed (by some) to our president. It may even come to be shown, that President Bush did not cause hurricane Katrina, especially if Haley Barbour can be blamed for that CO2 switcheroo.

And, dare we hope, that he actually doesn't hate blacks?

I don't know about you, but I may have to reevaluate my entire world view.

(and that's all, from the political mind of Ma.....)

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Swimming buddies

more fun from Monday's afternoon at the lake

Been thinking about family today. Ardith is having another of her "sick spells" and missed a day of work. Don't think the doctor found much, but there is more in the offing.....I'll let you know, later. We certainly wouldn't mind if anyone would like to pray for her. I know she would appreciate it, as well as being able to find out what causes these funny episodes.
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Here is an update on the missionary I requested prayer for: (as of Sept 13th)

Oh, for those who are interested, here is an update on the Malanicks:
This is what I got this morning:
"Pastor called at 11:15 am. He asked that you be in prayer for the family. They were waiting for the results of another CT Scan within the next two hours. If the scan again shows no brain activity, the family were all in agreement to disconnect the machines. Please pray that the Lord will give his grace and mercy."

Here's the latest:
"Pastor Jason Naff just told me that Greg's latest CT scan came in a few minutes ago and that he is now officially brain-dead. They did not do the procedure they were contemplating yesterday.

They are waiting for one last family member to get to the hospital before disconnecting the life support. It will be only a couple of hours.

Jason said Diane is doing well today. They have had the opportunity to present the Gospel to two unsaved family members. All of Greg's family (all unsaved) are there.

There are no funeral plans as of yet."

Also, here is their website.....

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The Buzzards of Pine Lake

(picture has been switched so as to behold more buzzardly beauty)


Nobody really knows how the legend started, but start, it did.

Oh, I know some think it was related to the that unfortunate Capistrano business.....the buzzards having scoped out the California mission, only to have those rotten little swallows beat them to it.

Sure, the black buzzards could have pressed their point, their talons, their strop-ped beaks. (Beaks so sharp, they can rip a chunk off a flattened skunk without batting an eyelash. Of course, buzzards don't have eyelashes, but if they did, they wouldn't bat them)

But that was not their way. No, despite their morbid reputation, the buzzards were just meek, humble birds, at heart. They would never have hurt those pathetic excuses for birds, those.....those swallows. Even though the "big guys" thought of Capistrano first, they weren't ones to make a fuss. Besides, they KNEW it would be seen as politically incorrect, in most aviarian circles.

No, it was more than a simple misunderstanding that drove the buzzards to Pine Lake State Park, in Iowa. It was actually TWO simple misunderstandings.

*takes deep breath*

It all started, when little Bobby Buzzard decided he'd had it up to his croppy with road kill. Not only was it in bad taste, quite literally, but it was doing NOTHING for his cholesterol. As his HDL went down, his LDL shot up, and his Lipids...well....you wouldn't be-lieve his Lipids. They were making plans to purchase a penthouse, they were so far off the charts.

Now, while Bobby was no intercontinental ballistic missile scientist, neither was he a mental slouch. Bobbo had been doing his homework, and....let's just say.....he was "Web Aware." He knew the benefits of flavanols for the buzzardly cardiovascular system. Maybe his older cousins were stuck in the road kill rut, but that was no reason he need be. No, Bobby was fat as a bell, and he wasn't gonna "take it," anymore.

It was time for a change. A change of diet, scenery, maybe even a new exfoliant for his glide feathers. Bobby was determined to break the mold, and he wasn't just talkin' that green scum stuff on the pond that sticks between your toes and drives away the chicks faster than a maggot on a mothball.

And that's when he heard about "Wine Lake." It seemed almost too good to be true, at first. A whole lake, filled with (heart healthy) red wine, just waiting to be discovered by a raptor of particularly discriminating taste. And, in veritas, it was too good to be true. For, due to an undiagnosed and amazingly obscure speech impediment among his fellow Carthartes aura, no buzzard could actually pro-nounce the consonant "P," unwittingly substituting a drunken sounding "wuh," instead.

But our misinformed friend did not know this, and had already convinced some of his buzzard buddies to join him in his quest for a flavorful flavanol diet.

Poor, poor Bobby. Just imagine having to cull up flakes and start out fresh, all on account of dead meat and a mangled phoneme.

And so, having acquired directions from MapQuest (as well as the reluctant blessing of Ma and Pa Buzzard) Bobby and the bunch set out for what they thought, was "Wine Lake."

Imagine their chagrin upon discovering at their arrival that it was "Pine Lake," instead. Imagine them being so totally oblivious, that they did not even notice the difference! For that is the sad conclusion to Bobby's journey. And they still think of it as "Wine Lake," today. When the sun starts to set, one can almost imagine the the water turning a dark reddish hue. Particularly if it's been dry, and the water has a higher concentration of bacteria. For you see, imagination can take one a long way....

Now, on the odd afternoon, and even not, Bobby and his friends can be seen wheeling and gliding about the lake, in their illusive search for the heart protective liquid, that lubricating elixir--or as Bobby and his buddies prefer to call it, "The Nectar of the Cods."

And, whose to say what might come, some day? An ethanol plant resides nearby, and a serendipitious spill is not out of the question. After that, who knows?

In the meantime, Bobbo et al remain. They wheel. They glide. And they watch.

They feel confident that somewhere, somehow, some DAY....

*dramatic pause*

.....their sip will come in.

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As summer wanes....

......time for one last visit to the lake

There. I've done it. Fullfilled my promise to the children to take not just one, but TWO trips to Pine Lake, this year. My pledge is completed, my vow acheived.

I done good, and am off the hook :-)

It might look like the kids are just sitting around, drinking soda and snarfing M&M's, but they WERE in the water a substantial amount of time. At least, Derek on down, were in the water. Jason immediated assigned himself the task of engineering a great city out of sand, and Kendra, after enjoying the water for a brief period, wrapped herself in a towel, read a book and enjoyed the balmy weather.

And so, the weary water warriors have all returned, safe, but tired. SO tired, that I just may have to fix supper by myself. This, despite having endured the arduous task of sitting in a lawn chair, sipping diet Cherry Coke, popping dill pickle chips (promotes thirst and more beverage imbibing) and downing dark chocolate. Oh yes, we must not forget that all I had to listen to was big band music.

Really, life is just so hard, sometimes.

*grins*

I don't mind suffering. Really, I don't.

Tune in tomorrow, when we explore a mysterious legend surrounding Pine Lake....

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"Shall we gather by the river......"

Carolyn gets baptized

The setting: a woodsy acreage wherein a river conveniently meanders.

The occasion: baptism for six, ranging in age from 10 to about 20 (I think)

I half expected Pa and Ma Wilder to emerge from the woods with Reverend Alden and the rest of the congregation, singing the aforementioned song. (wasn't that the only "hymn" ever sung on the "Little House on the Prairie" ?) Most of that daydream was dispelled when the guy on the jet ski roared past :-) After the second time, he did not return, and the dunking commenced.

A mighty fine day, and a blessing to witness.

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Prayer request update

(posted 7:42 a.m.EST on Appalachian Bible College forum)

FYI:

From our forum...

"I received word through my youth leader, Chris Chesley, that Greg Malanick had a sudden brain aneurysm. He was airlifted to Charleston (?) for immediate emergency surgery. Keep praying."

Later post...

"Mr. Malanick was sent to Morgantown. They did not expect him to make it. I have not heard anymore news since last night. Please pray for his wife, Diane, and his 11 y.o. daughter, Hannah."

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Prayer request

I do not know this man, but he has a 10% chance of living through the night. He is a missionary in New Zealand, home on furlough. He collapsed at a church picnic softball game in West Virginia.

Please pray for Greg and his family.

Loren had odds similiar to that after he collapsed in 1995.

God is mighty.

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In MY day.....

.....libraries merely housed books.

Now they are also home to dangerous looking dinosauric creatures, dear to the hearts of little boys. Trevor wants to be sure you can see all the lovely teeth of the soft, furry Tyrannosaurus Rex.

And speaking of home, we made it there, alive and reasonably well, after traveling to two libraries and three stores, yesterday. It only took 5 plus hours. Showing amazing fortitude and self-denial, we by-passed the Goodwill store. It was hard, but we did. *sigh*

And what literary gems did Ma pick up? Well, through no conscious effort on my part, I came away with a war, or more specifically, a CIVIL war theme. The following practically leapt off the "New Non-Fiction" shelves and into my hands:

"Great Photographs of The Civil War" (Time Life)
"More Terrible Than Victory" by Craig L.Chapman
"Wild Rose" (true story about a Civil War spy) by Ann Blackman
"Perspectives on World War II: No End Save Victory" essays by Stephen E. Ambrose, John Keegan, and the like...
"The World is Flat" (a timely and essential update on globalization) by Thomas L. Friedman

and,

"Death Sentences: How Clichés, Weasel Words, and Management-Speak are Strangling Public Language" by Don Watson

I've started the last book, first, and it looks to be a must read for people in linguistics, media, education, management, those pursuing grad school, and....well....just about everyone, I guess :-) I might have some quotes from this one, if I can narrow them down to a page per day.....

"Weasel words".....what's not to love?

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Is it my imagination......

.....or does the sun seem....bigger?

Personally, I blame global warming. And Bush.

If he had just signed that Kyoto treaty, I'll bet the sun wouldn't seem NEARLY so big.

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No lack of help in the kitchen....

....depending on your definition of help :-)

This picture is in celebration of normalcy.

For you see, now I can actually make bread, again. Until a week ago, I haven't engaged in bread making for at least a year.

When Loren started sliding downhill at a more accelerated pace, I divested myself of all unnecessary commitments. By the wayside went such things as: making bread, certain involvements at church (Sunday School and prayer meeting), and going to much trouble at all regarding meals.

So now, I can indulge in the fun "Mom" things of before. Sharon knows what it is like to have two little helpers while making bread. But now that she is back in college, I screwed up my courage and made the bread, myself. And amazingly enough, it wasn't nearly the trouble I'd thought it would be. (Sharon, I've made bread THREE times, chocolate chip banana bread twice, and pancakes once :-)And I have come to the conclusion that with my mind freed of some of the worry over Loren, I can just do those things I've felt guilty about neglecting in recent years.

I could get used to this....

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Fairie Worlde

Pixies could dwell somewhere nearby....

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Yet another use for chocolate.....

.....here.

I just love history :-)

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Harbinger

As a wallcloud=rain.....so school=doom

*sigh* One can only put certain things off, for so long.

It is always the younger ones who are excited about starting school. It was for this reason that I taped a note to the wall this morning, "I will not be available for 'school' questions until after breakfast!" I know what it is like to be inundated with enthusiastic, chirpy children, who, as yet, are blissfully ignorant of how long Algebras 1 and 2 will take them to finish in a few more years.

Despite my lack of mental energy, I had thought I was prepared, material-wise for this first day of school. I was wrong.

Having purchased 6 packs of notebook dividers, I assumed we were in fine shape. I neglected to notice, however, that these packs did not contain ONE file with a blue tab. The older ones were heartbroken. Especially after most of the younger kids bounced out of bed and grabbed up all the other "good" colors. They were left with an odd assortment of pinks and yellows. Some were even forced to reuse OLD green tabs from last year, if you can imagine that.

Fortunately for Kendra, there was a red tab left for Anatomy. "Blood.....red, it just goes together, Mommy."

There's another reason I do not feel on top of things this morning, and it involves a cricket in the bedroom. Waiting for a moment when Loren and I were both sound asleep, it made itself known in the dead of night. It was soon apparent, that, not only was there a cricket chirping in the bedroom, but, he had a microphone, as well.

Keeping a flashlight handy for just such an occasion, I grabbed it, and then reached for my glasses, promptly knocking them to the floor, behind the bed. It didn't take long for them to fall, but it was apparently just enough time to accumulate a good amount of cobwebs and dust-bunnies on the way down. Plus, actually finding one's glasses, without wearing one's glasses is more than a little difficult. But, find them I did, as well as discovering the cricket was probably waayyyyy back underneath the bed.

Gathering my specs, flashlight, and no small amount of nerves, I proceeded to swim underneath the bed, against an angry tide of dust and shoes, in my search for the offending insect. I missed him, but did succeed in scaring him closer to Loren's side of the bed, accomplishing half my mission. (Loren will sleep through anything, these days)

I hate crickets. Crickets=lost sleep.

*checks calendar*

Only 79 more days until Thanksgiving break....

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Labor Day Dessert?

Or an Oreo experiment gone terribly wrong.....

I sit at my computer with Ardith tickling the ivories right behind me. "For Eloise," or, for the more modern of heart, "Fer Ellie Baby." Probably she is nervous, either because she knows I am listening, or she wonders if I am fabricating more material concerning her life. No matter. It amuses me either way.

We have had a lovely, fattening day, hitherto. I couldn't decide on which salad to have, so we ended up having three. There is always the traditional potato salad, made from scratch. Lots of people are conscripted to cut up potatoes, eggs, celery, onions. I put Kendra in charge of this dish, and it turned out fine. I put myself in charge of the snicker salad, since I didn't trust the kids around all those candy bars. There was none left. (I mean after the meal, not after I made it...) Then there was fresh cucumber salad with sour cream dressing, a favorite of Ardith's. But, I couldn't persuade her to take the leftovers home. Some lame excuse about her refrigerator being full....(give me a break)

And then there was the grilling experience, of which I have a few choice thoughts:

-ALWAYS have your husband around when you can't get the gas grill started by yourself. He will offer helpful comments such as, "No, it WON'T blow up in your face!" and keep fiddling with it until flames shoot up in a satisfying manner.

-Concerning chicken.... it takes a LONG time to grill chicken, even after you have cut up each piece into four smaller pieces. But the secret is this, (other than remembering to actually close the lid....) As you periodically turn the chicken, small parts of it will become disengaged from the chicken and then become engaged to the grill. This is good. You WANT this to happen. Because, gradually, the chicken pieces will become smaller and smaller, until you achieve a "grillable" size that will maybe even get done in 30 minutes or so. Hopefully, before the rest of the food rots waiting for the chicken to get done.

-Concerning hamburgers.....you can never have ENOUGH for the kids. And, after realizing you do not have enough, you have to persuade a ten-year-old to allow a small part to be cut off of hers to be shared with a 3-year-old who has suddenly discovered he has been CHEATED by only being allotted a hot dog. And THEN, when presented with the smallish hamburger portion, he claims, "I don't WANT that.." whereupon the ten-year-old pumps her fist and exclaims, "YES! I get it back!"

-Concerning the frozen ice cream cake.....it looks better than it tasted, and that may not be saying much. But I had fun making it, and creating it as I went. I do think the vivisectioned cherries are pretty. But, pretty don't feed the bulldog, and basically, frozen cherries lack something in the area of tastiness. At any rate, Baskin-Robbins has nothing to fear in their immediate future.

Hopefully, this post has had the desired effect of producing just a touch of jealousy for those of us who no longer are slaves to college classes. Aside from the fact that eventually, one simply trades one type of slavery for another,

be not dismayed,

for tomorrow, we too, shall commence with SCHOOL

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'Tis Done!

The wildflower bed is no more....

Pretty much, though I did save two colonies of Purple Coneflowers. If my dream of becoming a professional lawn mower doesn't pan out, I can always go into selling medicinal herbs. After all, my brother and sister-in-law out in Virginia sell the coneflower roots (echinacea) at the farmer's market....

So, after approximately 3 hours, Little Red and I whittled down the three and four foot grass, ragweed and the odd flowers. Frankly, I felt a little sick, but since downing a glass of water, a Diet Cherry Coke, a raspberry Dasani, two Dove Dark Chocolates and a small bowl of ice cream, I am starting to perk up.

Hey, that reminds me.....I lost another pound and a half! That makes 15 altogether. I'm not on "the diet," but I have put in some heavy duty labor these past three days. I might just take tomorrow off....

But back to the important stuff....I also had to dig out three more mulberry bushes (dug out three and cut down a big one the other day) which are amazingly cantankerous.

In the picture (proudly taken by Nolan) you see a worn out Ma who is only smiling because: a) the job is done, b) she is proudly displaying her new clip on shades that came with her new glasses, and c) she is thinking of new ways to torture people on the blog. Also, little Trevor added himself for cuteness appeal, and to practice making weird faces, something no little boy can be without.

Notice the stone obelisk? Well, further research gives strong indication that this was not inscribed by Al the Great, but is rather more ancient, from the Druids, in fact. It looks to be a small prototype of Stonehengian make, used to keep track of seasons, time of day, etc. OR, I'm thinkin' it could have been a wristwatch model. At any rate, it's mine and it's in my new bed, surrounded by wilting flowers. As I gaze upon it, the time of day clearly is identified as....oh....around sixish.

So, having worked non-stop for the past three days, it is time to relax. Tomorrow, while all the poor college students will be MIRED DOWN IN CLASSES, WE shall be entertaining Ardith, who is coming up for a cookout :-)

She has promised to stop and pick up some Diet Cherry Coke, and Dove's Dark Chocolates for me, so I suppose we should give her something to eat, eh? (If you forget to stop in Cedar Rapids, Ardith, there is a store in Waterloo, and if you forget that one, just stay on 20 and stop in Iowa Falls. I'm sure it wouldn't add more than 30 minutes to your trip) Daddy says you can't eat if you don't bring the "goods," something about, "I have to live with your mother...!" But personally, I think he was just kidding. I think...

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The plot thickens.....

.....as Ma goes archeological

So, I was minding my own business, sweating buckets as I attempted to dig out the grass from my newest flower plot under development, when I happened upon this....this thing. Naturally, all root chasing came to an immediate halt, as I called in my environmental specialist. (that would be, ME)

She determined the wisest course would be to delve a little deeper, to see how far down it went. Upon discovering it was not really, really far down, she called in the archeological team (again, ME) and gave the order to exhume said thing, at all costs.

Using time honored recovery techniques, the resident archeologist carefully brushed off the extra dirt with an old cotton glove, whereupon, LO AND BEHOLD, the following inscription was identified: (you probably won't be able to see this from the picture)

"Alexander the G was here, 321 BC"

Whoa! I mean, who knew? Ol' Al sure got around.

Of course, there were immediate discussions between the gardener, the environmentalist, and the archeologist as to whether there should be an indefinite shut-down of all work, until authenticity could be determined. However, in the end, reason won out, and the gardener told the others to "get lost," and what's more, she might even use the thing as a centerpiece for the garden bed. She rolled it up a board, set against a shallow incline.

And, there you have it. Another blip in the annals of history.

*goes back out to dig*

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I have met the enemy.....

.....and his name is "stump."

After three and a half hours of hard labor, I finally had to make a concession. Despite hacking through most of the surrounding roots with the spade, there were some that just went down, and down, probably into infinity.

So, I opted for whacking off the part above ground with the sledge hammer, which in itself, was somewhat satisfying.

I was working on this until after 8:00 last night, but had to quit on account of darkness. Oh yeah, there the little matter of supper, too. It's amazing how a meal of pork and potatoes can morph into scrambled eggs and toast, as time goes by. I threw in chocolate milk as a beverage, and you'd have thought they died and went to Dairy Queen, they were so happy. Other than the two youngest, chocolate milk comes around 'bout once a year.

So, getting back to the stump, I felt further hacking would be futile, and so, I'll just sweep it under the dirt, so to speak. But it was not wasted effort, for I figure I worked off at least a pound.

Ethan and Nolan stand at the site of my "Waterloo," Nolan being the one with the contorted face.

And now I see lunch is running late. We seem to have a theme, going here....

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Ma, the mighty......

.....strikes again

OK, I know what you're thinking. You find it hard to fathom why anyone could be so conceited as to post two pictures of herself in one day.

*assumes humble posture*

Well, other than trying to prove that I am not just another pretty face, (hold the choking, please) I have worked really hard, today, and feel the need to show that "old ladies" needn't resign themselves to the rocking chair. Yet.

This is the kind of work I love, actually. Being out of doors always makes me feel great. Getting dirty, digging and grubbing about are just the stuff dreams are made of, for me. I dug these two wooden fence posts out all by my little ol' self, along with five metal stakes. Aside from lots of digging and filling, it entailed untwisting many little strands of wire fasteners, and prying out numerous huge metal staples. A shovel, screwdriver, hammer and Loren's heavy wire cutters were my only tools. (besides old lady brawn)

Normally, of course, the thrill of tearing stuff out would be satisfaction enough. But I have a greater purpose in mind. I have finally given up on my wildflower bed ever amounting to anything in its present condition. There are MANY ragweed plants, and just spraying them is not plausible, since that would kill all the wildflowers. (Well, there are a couple, anyway)

So, utilizing the pieces of uprooted wooden fence posts, I shall make a corner bed of a few cherished plants, and mow the rest. Heartless, but necessary. Those weeds are aggravating the children with allergies, so I must destroy, and then rebuild, on a more manageable basis.

If you look at the darkened posts, you can see just how far down I had to dig before being able to horse them out of the ground. My trusty helper, Trevor, stands by my side, putting his idle time to good use by picking his nose. Well, maybe it's his teeth. What-ever it is, he's picking them. He did look for worms and grasshoppers.

Carolyn took the picture, with Nolan standing beside her. The latter opted not to be in the picture, so as to glory in a brief moment of standing on the edge of the road with his sister.

Naturally, I will keep everyone updated on all pertinent developments of this humongous project, as I know you wait with bated breath....

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"Derek! Hold the camera still!"

New Glasses :-)

Well, you get the idea, anyway.

(Hey, is it my imagination, or is all the print size suddenly smaller?)

So, Kendra and I received our new specs, today. Loren had an eye appointment, and, in the interest of saving gas, the two of us scurried to Wal-Mart and the grocery, then back to get fitted, ourselves.

It's always hard to chose new frames, but it was either these, or big, blue "cat's eyes." I still wonder if I made the right choice.....

Kendra chose rimless for herself, an option I do not have with my high prescription.

Derek took the picture, and I think his hand was shaky due to postponement of lunch for the sake of his narcissistic maman.

And, I told Kendra that if we did a "close shot" I'd keep in her in the will.

Really, just a great coupla kids :-)

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Mission: Totally Possible

Date: Thursday, Sept 1, 2005
Time: Just past O8:00
Location: A large, old farm house, in southwestern Butler County, Iowa

Having just returned from a rejuvenating 2 mile walk, I found the cool morning temperatures to be ideal for the task at hand. I had done my research, see, and knew that "the enemy" would be sluggish in the early a.m. temperatures. (not unlike certain teenagers...) The window of opportunity to strike would only become smaller if I waited much longer.

It was now or never. Well, I'd have to wait until evening, anyway.

I carefully and methodically went over my checklist of materials.
Long-sleeved shirt - check.
Already wearing long pants - check.
Real-Kill (what a lame name) Wasp and Hornet Spray - check.
Old, rickety step-ladder just barely capable of holding one person, safely - check.

I scanned the back of the can to find the modus operandi. Finding them, I took off my glasses so I could actually read the directions. All seemed in order. There was just time for a quick prayer before H-hour.

Throwing a few grass blades into the air, I determined the wind speed and directional flow. Taking one more glance at my victims, I positioned the ladder upwind, and cautioned the two children lucky enough to be witnesses, to, "STAY BACK!"

With the spray can not two feet from the deadly nest, I commenced spraying. A strong jet of white foamy substance spewed forth, with nearly enough force to break a window. THIS WAS THE MOMENT OF TRUTH....

.....The wasps never had a chance. They were dropping like flies. Literally. Except, they weren't flies, of course, but, other than that, they were just dropping like flies. Between 40-50, altogether. Some falling to the ground below, others dropping to the sill, legs up in the air, waving ineffectually.

A grim, but necessary work.
___________________________

A couple of the older children expressed disappointment that they had not been up and about to witness the proceedings. Jason, with his scene-staging outlook on life, commented, "It would have been more interesting if you had waited till later. Then we could have taken the camera out and set up the little kids to look like they were screaming in agony and fear...."

*sigh*

Really, some people have to be SO dramatic.

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