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Carrotfornication

Yesterday I spent a few hours in the garden, trying to wrap things up for the season.

I cut about 1/50th of the basil still growing (what kind of person needs that much basil? Who knew?)

I cut dill, parsley, mint and oregano

I hoed up the last of the potatoes.

I collected another 8 or so cucumbers.

I pitchforked and shoveled more dirt onto the asparagus row to bring the level of dirt flush with the rest of the garden.

I checked on my canteloupe, many of which are making attempts at growing but won't make it before the first freeze.

I picked all of my decorative gourds and put them in a bowl on the counter.

I picked my 2nd only tomato of the season.

I picked half a pail of green beans.

And finally, I pulled up the rest of my carrots.

Apparently funny things happen with carrots when they are in the ground too long. You know, they get fidgety, anxious, waiting for something to happen.

They start to chat with their neighboring carrots in order to get to know them better.

Soon, there are ice cream socials and dances. Cell phone numbers are exchanged.

Before you know it, relationships start.

I named this couple:

The passionate embrace

and I thought, oh, how cute.

And then came these two.

I really don't have a dirty mind. I might use crass or unladylike language, but really, sex isn't everyday conversation for me.

But, really? C'mon guys, there are kids present.

So, to summarize my first year as a gardener:

It started with a sign:

It involved lots of manual labor.

Sometimes the work was slow and painful. (Remember slice toes?)

God often intervened on my behalf. (Remember upside down asparagus?)

Sometimes it looked awful and felt overwhelming.

Sometimes it looked amazing and made me proud of what I'd accomplished.

Sometimes the fruits of my labor astonished me. (This was delicious)

 And sometimes, it just made me laugh. (This was my very last harvest of the day yesterday)

It was hard, it was a learning experience, it was rewarding. It was sweat inducing, it could be frustrating, it could be painstaking. It helped feed our family, and it helped me remember I could do something even if I didn't know all the ins and outs of it.

Yep, I'll do it all again next  year.

Sittin pretty

First, let me apologize for my excessive lack of communication. I do feel bad, and hope the 4 of you haven't given up on me altogether.

The truth is, there's just not much interesting/insightful/exciting/funny happening lately.

But I must say, life is really, really good. Things have been humming along here in such a nice way that I have absolutely nothing to complain about. The boys have been getting along really well and are both liking school. They have both been more helpful as they work towards achieving their goal stars on their star chart, to maximize their weekly allowance, to get themselves closer to whatever they are saving for. Jack, who is generally cheerful, has been even more cheerful. For example,

"Mom, is the basement a big mess?"
"Hmm, I don't think it's too bad right now."
"Oh, because I was going to say, if it was a big mess, it would be my pleasure to clean it for you."

The funny part of this story isn't that he offered to clean up the basement for me, because he has always been very helpful, but the fact that he said it would be his pleasure. Even Luke started laughing and said, "He said pleasure!"

I have focused nearly every morning during the week on exercising, either walking with a neighbor (BONUS-if you hate exercising really try to do this with someone else-I actually look forward to the walk now because of all the chatting) or nearly putting myself into cardiac arrest during a '60 Minute Cardio' class I signed up for twice a week. Apparently there is actually a verbal warning given at the front desk when people sign up for this-I didn't get that warning. Probably a good thing. The first day of class, I left feeling nauseated (I actually thought I might throw up), followed closely by heartburn, a headache, and heart palpitations, leaving me with no appetite for the whole day. I know you are asking right now where you can sign up.

We've been pinching pennies lately, which often leads to fun times spending the afternoon in the park, or having our second weekly movie/pajama/pizza night in as we are tonight. It's cold and rainy, we put on our pj's by 5 or 6 in the evening, and enjoy each others company. Here's a self portrait of last Saturday's event:

Here's another fun Friday night we've had lately:

Anyone who says only girls are obsessed with clothing has not met my boys. They only want to wear "cool" shirts, and only about 4 shirts in their closets qualify as cool. So, to elimate daily fighting, I instituted a policy which states that Jack can pick his own clothes on Monday and Friday, and Luke can on Fridays. Apparently, a keen interest in hairstyle is also taking place. Jack has been sneaking up right before we leave for school and wetting his hair on the top to make it look spiky. I'm not sure why he thinks he has to sneak, but he does. Rob was home when they left for school the other day, so he was able to take part in their hairstyling, adding what's known in our house as "gello" to hold their styles better. Really, Rob is living vicariously through them, glad that he has someone's hair to style now as his own has been letting him down as of late.

I hope things are going swell this week for you too.

  

The blessing of running over a bike

Though our garage seems large enough to house a small factory now, our previous garage did not afford us such luxuries. It was very difficult to fit two cars into it, and in summer, when all of the kids riding/swimming/large toys came down from the attic, one car was always relegated to the driveway.

In one of those tight squeeze attempts to get the car in, I accidentally ran over one of the training wheels on Jack's bike one day. Though still useable, this bending of those wheels led to very little reliance on the training wheels, unbeknownst to Jack. Therefore, he was actually riding a bike essentially without training wheels much sooner than he knew it. So, when the day came to fly like the wind and take those crutches off, he did so as if he'd always been riding a bike.

Well, today was Luke's big day. He's done his training using that same mangled bike, so I had high hopes that removing those wheels would pose little problems, and I was right. We took them off, gave him a little push, and he was on his way in no time, with no accidents.

So, the moral to my little story is this: it's funny how sometimes the same things we curse at when they happen turn out to actually be blessings in disguise.

Clouds of dust

I haven't been cleaning much.

I have dedicated most of my newfound free time to self-improvement. As many of you know through our talks, this is a good investment right now. I am exercising, making decent dinners, and keeping up with dishes and laundry pretty much on a daily basis. Y'know, keepin' at a Level One on the housekeeping front.

In my continuous quest to further my housekeeping levels, I decided to work towards a Level Two. (If you are unfamiliar with my housekeeping levels, click here.
When I fired up the vacuum, it actually spit up a small cloud of dust at me as it got started.
I'm not kidding.
It's been a while.

Oh the nerve of it.

But here's what I think. Tonight, as you raise a tall cool one, give a cheer to all those hardworking moms out there who are taking care of themselves, trying to nurture strong healthy little bodies and minds, who are sitting down to read or play games or exclaiming in the 10th round hide-and-seek that oh my gosh under the bed, what a UNIQUE place to hide I never wouldda found you, and let us remember that it's OK if your vacuum spits up in disgust of you or your bathrooms smell like a port-o-potty, because you know what? That other stuff matters the most.

Lazy farm days

We went to the farm this past weekend. This is my grandparents farm that although has a huge hole with their absence, is still a vacation getaway for the rest of us.

The boys love going to the farm.

There are 4 wheeler rides, apples to be picked, rocks to be found, and sand piles to play in. There are smores to be eaten, fresh raspberries to pick, and cold drinks of water from the spring.

Mom with Grandma's two surviving sisters. Clara is on the left and at 99 is sharp as a tack.

Mom beating Grandma's surviviving brother at cribbage. He sure didn't like that. He claims to be the 1989 Wisconsin state cribbage champion. I can neither prove or disprove this claim via internet search. But I'm leanin' towards not...

Sooooo tired..............

They built this with Daddy. It's called Rocktropolis.

Mmmm fresh raspberries

We visited the cemetary where Grandma and Grandpa are buried. I find cemetaries fascinating, especially those containing your ancestors. I leave with so many questions. Why did my great-great-grandparents lose two children so young? And how did they bear that? How did other families bury five of their children, under age 5?

We were sitting by the gravestones, and I told Jack that he could talk to his great grandparents because they could hear him. You should have seen his face—it lit up, and he said, REALLY? They can hear us? And then he just sat there and talked and talked.

"Thank you for the farm. We're having a lot of fun there. We're taking 4 wheeler rides, and finding rocks. We sure are glad you had the farm for us. And thanks for being in the army and protecting us. Goodbye."

And now, days later, Luke and I were sitting at the table, and he was still thinking about what I'd said, so he asked me this string of questions:

"Does your skeleton go to heaven?"

"What about your heart?"

"Are you alive in heaven or all cut up?"

"Can you talk when you're under the ground?"

Whew. Good questions. I'm glad that his little wheels are turning all the time. But hard to answer.

If only it were as easy for me to just open up and sit there by their gravestone and have a wonderful little chat with them. For some reason it's hard for me to open my mouth and speak the feelings and words in my heart and mind, but my heart is full of love, memories, and so much missing of such incredible people. We love you!

Happy Day

I am happy today for:

• A little one who smells mostly like dirt, plus a little sweat

• A big one who smells mostly like sweat, plus a little dirt

• 
  
  Comments from the little one like, "Oh poor Mama, she has wrinkly on her head"
• 
  
  Comments from the big one, like, "Oh no Mom, I don't want to wear that shirt! That shirt is only for church and going to Grandma's for Christmas!"
• 
  
  A delicious apple pie I made from scratch, using Grandma's recipe and my own apples
• 
  
  Our new school schedule/routine, which allows me to exercise 3-4 times a week and still spend more "quality" time with the kids
• 
  
  Knowing what's for dinner before noon, and feeling good about what I set on the table
• 
  
  The energy that this exercise and eating well is providing me
• 
  
  The crown jewel of my garden produce:

• 
  
   The potatoes, carrots, green beans, cherry tomatoes, green beans and cucumbers I also brought in today

Book review: Lone Survivor

I just finished a book, called Lone Survivor, by Marcus Luttrell:

I found it fascinating. It was the quickest read I've had in a long time, and gives me the desire to read more non-fiction than I usually do. I love reading novels, as well as watching movies, and they often stick with me and make me think for several days. However, six months to a year later, I can hardly remember if I've seen that movie/read that book, let alone tell you much about it.

But a book like this will stick with you. I have endless respect and admiration for our troops. I could not/did not answer that call and I so admire their bravery. This book explains, from the author's perspective (pictured above), what training to be a Navy SEAL is all about. Sure makes you think next time you complain about a sore ankle, or itchy mosquito bites all over, that it really could be worse. MUCH, MUCH worse. And, of course, the story then goes into the mission that cost more SEAL lives than in any mission before.

Even if you wouldn't think you would be interested in a military non-fiction book, I encourage you to read this. Here's a quick summary of the book:

Petty Officer First Class Marcus Luttrell was born in Huntsville, Texas in 1975.

A graduate of BUD/S Class 228, he was the only survivor of the fateful events of June 28, 2005 in Afghanistan. Luttrell and three teammates from SEAL Team TEN were assigned to a reconnaissance mission, operation RED WING, in the Hindu-Kush mountain region of Afghanistan. Their objective was to gather intelligence on Taliban movement in the area. Luttrell’s team was eventually discovered and outnumbered by over 200 Taliban fighters. Petty Officer Luttrell was the only to survive enemy contact. In the rescue mission that ensued, 16 Special Forces personnel, including 8 SEALs, died when their helicopter was shot down by Taliban fighters. It was the largest single-day loss of life in the SEALs’ history.

In 2006, Petty Officer Luttrell was awarded the Navy Cross for combat heroism.

His full story is documented in his heroic account of the operation, entitled: Lone Survivor.

Marcus’s twin brother, Morgan Luttrell, is also a SEAL, still on active duty.

Next up:
A Life's Work; On Becoming a Mother

One reviewer says:

"She captures the absolute shock of suddenly finding yourself responsible for another person—with no training, no guidance, and indeed, no one coming from their planet to take them back. A brilliant book—and so funny too."

I'll let you know how it is!

Remember, if you are looking for a suggestion for your next book, or would like to learn more about any books mentioned, just look to the right side of the blog, where you can click on a book title and it will take you to Amazon to read more about it or order a copy.