Something with Substance

Sooooo . . . it has been a while.

(Now I'll tell you some things you don't already know. ;o)

We're expecting #6.  Yeah.  It was a shock to us, too.  I'm about 19 weeks along, and just really getting used to the idea.  Anyone know if you can get a bench seat for the front row of a Honda Odyssey?

The powerful advent of morning sickness signaled a significant pause in our raw diet adventure.  Thusfar it has been a four month pause, but we'll see what happens.  I'm not feeling as good as I did while raw, (duh), but I did what was necessary (considering the circumstances in my life right then), and I feel good about my choice . . . especially because I can change it at any time.

We've managed to make some progress on getting the site work done at the farm. (That's what I'm calling our homesite and surrounding property.  We'll see if it sticks.)  We lost three months' progress (and sight of our dream for that time) in late winter/early spring due to an out-of-area health department inspector denying us a reasonable assessment during the perc test; but as it turns out, that hasn't really changed much, because it's STILL a bog out there due to the nearly-constant rain we've had.  (Rain nearly daily since March . . . I think Mother Nature is trying to make up for an unusually snowless winter.)  We've taken a bid for putting in the road, and we're currently reviewing bids for the concrete work.  Bids for the septic system are under review.  Once site work actually begins, I'll have photos to share.

The house plan is coming along fairly well . . . we're refining things we've already decided on, and working out kinks in the new story-and-a-half version.  It'll be cozy, but that's the point.  A home that will fit all of us without putting us in bondage for nearly times the cost of the home.  (Making reasonable assumptions, we would be paying 2.8 times the cost of our home with a 30-year mortgage.  No way, Jose.  Paying $504,080 for a $180,000 loan is just not in the cards.)

In other home-related news, our landlord is the best we've ever had.  He gave us permission to put eight small raised beds in the backyard, and we've been eating salad and greens from them for about a week now.  (Yummmmmmm.)  I also have a brand-spanking-new dryer vent.  The old one was the no-no-big-time-fire-hazard-white-vinyl installed when the house was build fifteen years ago, and never cleaned.  If my dryer's high-limit thermostat hadn't worked as intended, shutting off the dryer's heating element before the vent caught fire, I'd have been blogging to a very different tune by now.  The "we're all okay, but we've lost everything in the fire" refrain.  Photos and details and an illustrative video will ensue.

I've just finished a beginning weaving class, which I really enjoyed.  It was with Kristie of the Weaving Room at Bluster Bay Woodworks, and she did a great job.  (Being a textiles teacher at the University of Alaska for a couple decades helps with that.)  I have an eight-foot scarf woven in decently-recognizable herringbone tweed to show for it, and quite a few hours logged on Schacht's new Wolf Pup loom.  I really do enjoy weaving, and would love to do more . . . but I'm not taking on any new hobbies/tasks/adventures until after the house is built and my impending mother-of-a-newborn status has passed.  Home construction is a full-time endeavor; adding a new baby to that is going to be interesting. ;o)  When the time comes, though, that I purchase a loom, it will probably be either a Wolf Pup or a Baby Wolf.  The Pup has a few disadvantages (like harnesses that are at the complete upper limit of width without a center support), but it's a great "little" loom with a really conservative footprint, and I found it very easy to use.

I'm just coming out of a verrrrrry long stint with a sinus infection.  Like two weeks.  Nasty bug, that one, that brought it on.  Vern and MrC are still working on kicking it.  One great serendipity, though, was I got several solid days of knitting in while stuck on the couch, directing traffic.  (Thanks so much, Mom, for helping so much!)  I've knit two WHW Trim Soakers, one adorable Owlie Sleep Sack set,  and I'm finishing up my fourth pair of Nifty Knickers.  (A bottom-up version, which will be posted for free in my Rav pattern store soon.) Photos and more info to come, as well as Rav project entries for all of the above.  (Those are Ravelry links, so anyone reading who hasn't yet signed up at Ravelry, please feel free.  There's no longer any waiting. :o)  Newborn knitting is just so fun and fast; you use incredibly luscious yarns, on teensy tiny sweet little things, and get to finish really fast.  It's a beautiful thing.

I've been dreaming about starting a Granny Stripes Afghan, crocheting along with Lucy of Attic24, but haven't yet found a natural fiber DK-weight yarn that will survive my daughter and leave me with a penny to my name.  It's got to be less than about $6.50/4oz, be less than 50% acrylic, and have a wide range of brilliant colors.  Any ideas?

Hmmmm . . . what else?  Those seem to be "the biggies", as my Mom would say.  I've just been feeling in just a little over my head, but have been provided with a tremendous amount of help, in many forms.  (Thanks so much, Mom . . . )  And now that I've given you the debriefing, I've got an outline for the next half dozen posts or so.  I love it when that happens . . .

Hopefully I'll get back to blogging a little more regularly.  I've always got thoughts running through my head, complete with ideas for photos and posts, but time all-too often simply does not allow.

Ahem.

Another Oldie but Goodie from the world of email forwards . . . 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk’s office, was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.

She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

"What I mean is,” explained the recorder, "do you have a job or are you just a ...."?

"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman.

"I'm a Mom."

"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.  The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"What is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know.  The words simply popped out.  "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right.

I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.  Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out).  I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family) and already have four credits (all daughters).  Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanity ties, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).  But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3...
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.

I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!  And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mom."  Motherhood!  What a glorious career!

Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations?"

And great grandmothers "Executive Senior Research Associates?"

I think so!

I also think it makes Aunts "Associate Research Assistants."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chaos Reigning

Still life, photons on CCD.

How to Stay Young

This came from a new good friend of mine today, and I thought I'd pass it on. It made me smile, and that's something I dearly love.

Reading this made me think of a picture of four women my mom has on her fridge. She's in it, along with three other women she served with in the previous Relief Society Presidency in her ward. One of the women is about 60, but has a 4-year-old at home. She looks at least fifteen years younger than her age would have you believe. Such a marked testimony to the old saying: "Act your age."

And now, How to Stay Young . . .

We all need to read this one over and over until it becomes part of who we are!

HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Try everything twice. On one woman's tombstone she said she wanted this epitaph:

Tried everything twice...loved it both times!

2. Keep only cheerful friends.?
The grouches pull you down. (keep this in mind if you are one of those grouches)



3. Keep learning: Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain get idle.

'An idle mind is the devil's workshop.' And the devil's name is Alzheimer's!

4. Enjoy the simple things.

5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath. And if you have a friend who makes you laugh,

spend lots and lots of time with HIM/HER.


6 The tears happen: Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves.

LIVE while you are alive..

7. Surround yourself with what you love: Whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever.

Your home is your refuge.

8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it.
If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9. Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county, to a foreign country,
but NOT to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

I love you, my special friend.


11. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second chance.

And if you don't send this to at least 4 people - who cares?

But do share this with someone.

Remember! Lost time can never be found.

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Good Job, and Hang in There.

To all the mothers I know:

Thank you for your examples, whatever they have been. I have watched and learned, and I value the influence you all have had on my life and mothering.

Thank you for showing me new ways to fill this ancient role in a day when the entire world seems stacked against goodness, gentleness, and love unfeigned.

Thank you for reminding me what's really important. For reminding me what family truly is, and should be.

Thank you for sharing bits and pieces of your lives, your time, and your laughter.

And please remember: on this day when ideal mothers are being held up for praise, when ideal motherhood is talked over and painted onto each one of us, know that I break down, lose my patience and my temper, and cry over the fear that I'll cripple my children's ability to succeed in our crazy world, and their own families, some day. You're not alone. Neither am I.

And to my own mother:

With each day, each minute, that goes by, I marvel anew at how you managed it all. I am so grateful for your faith, your strength, and your quiet determination to follow the path God laid out for you. Thank you for loving Dad, the boys, and I, and for being so kind and gentle about it. Thank you for teaching me so many basic, important principles of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and for modeling them every day. Thank you for making the house on the ranch bright and attractive, and for working so hard to take such good care of all of us.

I don't know how you did it. And I'm so glad you did. I love you.

Nurture

The difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated…. I should never have known how ladies and gentlemen really behaved, if it hadn't been for Colonel Pickering. He always showed what he thought and felt about me as if I were something better than a common flower girl. You see, apart from the things one can pick up, the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated. I shall always be a common flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me like a common flower girl, and always will. But I know that I shall always be a lady to Colonel Pickering, because he always treats me like a lady, and always will.

Eliza Doolittle, My Fair Lady

Amen.

Sleep: An equation.

Regardless of when I go to bed, someone needs something.  (Nightmares, thirst, BabyB wants to nurse, someone has fallen out of bed, ad infinitum.)

There exists a direct ratio between the earliness of the hour I try to retire and the severity of neediness expressed.

I have three children who nap asynchronously.  (No reliable naptime for mom.)

When sleep = sanity, (and lack thereof = severe depression), given the above condition, I only arrive at irrational solutions.

This is unsustainable.

I Am Glad for Many Things . . .

I made this list on March 26th. It's good to go back and read over things like this every once in a while. :o)

:: Family

I talked with my both my Mom and my Dad's sister today, and had a wonderful time. Having family that not only loves me, but plays a double role and fills so much space on the "Best Friend" bench, is a rare blessing indeed. (And it's a good thing that those benches expand as much as needed!)

:: Children

Vern took the older trio Nordic skiing today, and so I've had the two littlest ones with me. It has been a quiet, peaceful, slow-paced day, with plenty of time for smiles and little-kid play. Why did I ever think that two children were a handful? Or feel stressed and overwhelmed with just them? Having a 3.5yo and an infant in the house is gorgeously simple. I love them all, and I love it especially when I have the rare treat of spending time with just one or two of them.

:: History

In my 90+ minute call to my Aunt D, whom I love dearly and get along with so very well, we talked about family history. I learned more about my paternal grandparents' lives in that 90 minutes than I learned in all my previous 32.75 years on earth. While my paternal Grandmother spoke of these people and events to the adults, she rarely mentioned them to me. And now, my Aunt D will be sending a packet of historical information and documents, from things just a generation or two back, all the way to photo copies of letters a Civil War solider ancestor wrote to his wife. (I didn't know I had Civil War ancestors! I figured I might've, but it's so amazing to be certain! I can't wait to learn his name, and read some of his story!)

:: Sunshine

Even though we now live in western Oregon, famous for long, gray winters, it feels like I've moved to a land of sunshine. In Idaho, on average, there are 90 clear days per year. And out of that year, only about 100 days are really warm enough to be out without a coat. (My estimate on that last number.) I'm already outside planting and digging and working this year . . . Spring is but days old, and I'm out in it. I feel nearly as though I'm newly resurrected from a long, cold, gray grave in a snowy northern land.

:: New Friends
Making up a list of invitees to a jewelry party (like Pampered Chef, but you get to play dress up with gorgeous, shiny, sparkly stuff--so much fun!), it astounded me to see how many people I already feel comfortable inviting. I've met and begun relationships with more people here in the last nine months than I did in nearly three years in Idaho. Maybe living in a neighborhood isn't so bad after all. ;o)

Doesn't your mother feed you?

When asked the above question (in jest, by our good friend), MrC answered:

"Not really.  Sometimes we have to sing to the refrigerator, and then other times we have to go steal money from their wallets to go buy food."

We had been helping with blueberry patch clean up, and the kids were all hungry. ;o)  But still . .  what a ham he is. lol  I think he has been reading Anna's blog . . .