Possibilities

Today my mom received the call – surgery is scheduled for tomorrow; be at the hospital for pre-op paperwork and tests by 1:00. A month ago during her routine mammogram, two tumors were discovered in one of her breasts. We’ve gone through many phases since this began. First was the initial shock and scare of the possibility that she may have cancer. It loomed large – filling us with fear of facing the possible outcome. Then came hope…there was a chance, after all, that it was nothing. In the last few weeks we have clung to that possibility of nothing as if it was the only possible outcome. It is a luxury that time provides.

That last nerve, pulled tight as a bowstring is nearing the breaking point for all of us today. As I was walking the puppy I kept telling myself that we are still facing the possibility of good news. It exists now as it has since the beginning. Why am I suddenly filled with this sense of dread and fear?

At this point I believe the fear that I'm falling victim to isn’t the fear of the outcome, at all. Time is running out. The end of this is near and news – good or bad – is within sight. We fast approach the point where possibilities will become certainties. And facing certainties - when possible certainties are so frightening - the possibility of bad with no chance to turn back seems to dwarf the possibility of good news. Should the outcome reveal bad news, we will be facing a certainty we can’t get away from. It matters not, with our (admittedly) less than logical thinking, that the chance for good news is higher than the chance for bad. Good news won’t change our lives. Bad news will devastate 4 generations of our family.

So, be it logical or irrational, that’s the way it is. We have a few days, at most, in the bliss of ignorance, the shade of possibilities hoped for. It’s a scary place.

I got screwed

Yesterday we decided to make over Jacob's bedroom. It's tiny, perfectly square, and done in knotty-pine plank paneling that I can't bring myself to paint over. The wall his bunk beds have to be put on has open shelving that runs the full length of the wall. His bed had been pushed up to these shelves - leaving the bottom bunk about a foot away from the wall and creating a bottomless pit for dropped things to collect. We decided to take the shelves down to help better the room arrangment and function.

That's when it happened.

I was standing on the rail of the bottom bunk, braced against the wall while removing the shelf brackets, when my foot slipped. I lost my balance and fell against the wall, and managed to catch my side on the large head of a screw that was sticking out of the wall. I've never noticed it before. I have no idea why it would have been there. I've never noticed it before, but I'm painfully aware of it now. After a little rest and some bag balm I'm thinking it's going to be just fine, but the rib it poked me between is a little sore and I'm probably going to have at least a small scar. Decorating mementos...I manage to collect them in one way or another.

I caught my breath in a little bit and it stopped stinging enough to let me go back to work. We cut one of the shelves down to make a new set of shelves that are now at the foot of his bed. Underneath the shelves, we put a book case. The center of his room, small as it is, is completely open. A little green paint (Jake's favorite color) on the new shelves, maybe some stamping or stenciling on his bed, and a coat of paint for the computer desk and he will have the colorful room he's always wanted. Soon we will be building a trundle to hold the mattresses for his top bunk and the top bunk will become a playhouse. The king's castle. That's a bit in the future though. I still have to plan it out now that everything sits in a different place. He's finally happy with his room though, and last night he slept there instead of on the couch in our bedroom. Yay me!

I woke up this morning at 6:30 as if I needed to be awake. Naturally, I didn't...it's just the way my body works. Come the beginning of school when I have to be awake at that time, my body will be screaming for just a few more minutes. It's messed up. I cleaned the kitchen while I waited on the coffee to brew. The dishwasher is unloaded, the sinks are clean and all that's left to do is the floors - which I thought best to wait to do after the kids have breakfast. I've straightened the living room already and with a quick vacuuming it will be ready for the carpet cleaning it is in such desperate need of. Bathroom - scrubbed last night. Furniture - dusted, thanks to my new feather duster that I've managed so far to keep Corri away from. I seldom start the day ahead of the game so I'm loving this so far today. Of course, the kids haven't got up yet. All that has been accomplished is liable to disintegrate the instant their feet hit the floor.

My mom is going to the doctor this morning for a needle biopsy. After weeks of assing around the doctor's are going to finally get down to business and find out what the two tumors they've discovered in her breast mean for her. I'm nervous. I'm sure she's nervous. My grandma, I bet, is a basket case. I'm not going to get to go with her because I have the kids and they don't have the patience for sitting in waiting rooms and just waiting. So we're just hanging out here waiting to hear something from my mom when it's over. I'm not sure how long it will be before they get the results back but I'm sure it won't seem fast enough.

Yesterday I had to stop by the vet's office to pick up some medicine for Corri. Her dry skin is giving her itchy fits again and if I don't do something quick she's going to scratch her skin and fur completely off. We pulled up beside a couple in a Jeep. The man slid out of the driver's seat and walked around to the back to open the little window above the gate. Inside was the most mondo-sized dog I have EVER seen. It was a gorgeous Mastiff with a head the size of a beach ball. In unison my kids all said "WOW! What is THAT?" They didn't know whether to be scared or curious. I got no arguments from them about waiting in the car with their sister while I ran in to pick up the medicine the vet had waiting for me. As I walked past the Jeep, the lady glanced at me and I mentioned to her that the kids thought her dog was the neatest thing they had ever seen. She smiled a little and then I noticed she was crying. She said "Thank you. He's a great dog. We're having to have him put down. It's hard." It's only been a couple of weeks since I had to make the same decision and I couldn't tell her that without crying myself. All I could manage was a squeaky, "I understand." The dog was old and could hardly lift his massive body on weak legs any more. His eyes showed obvious pain and he panted with the effort to move closer to the back of the Jeep to greet me. At that point, my younger kids came barreling out of the van to get a closer look too. The lady heard them coming and said "They can see him, he doesn't bite." I didn't doubt her - he was excited. This dog was love in a big package. Simple majesty. His eyes brightened at the sight of my kids and he shifted as quickly as he could to be ready to meet them when they got to him. They eagerly petted the head that was bigger than each of their bodies, marveling in the sweetness of his size. He closed his eyes with the pleasure of being loved and his lady smiled.

Getting old

I had spent the last hour walking the halls of the hospital. I was having contractions but they were weak and irregular and I hadn't dialated. I can remember the doctor standing beside my bed saying, "Well, you're not tearing it up, but I'm going to admit you since you live so far away. You rest though. I don't think this baby will be born until over in the morning." Morning was over 12 hours away. My husband went down to get my bag while the nurses came to hook up my IV.

My memory is clear for about the next 15 minutes. My husband came back from the car just after they got me hooked up to the IV. We called his parents in New Jersey to let them know today would be the day. I was talking on the phone with my mother-in-law when the contraction knocked the breath right out of me. The next one felt like I'd been picked up and slammed down on the bed like something out of the exorcist. I remember the nurse saying I needed to be checked again. Surely I wasn't that big of a wuss. Here it gets fuzzy. I can remember pain. Lots of pain coming in fierce waves like a storm rolling in at the beach. There would be no time for further prep - cancel the anesthesiologist. Oh no, now I wanted the anesthesiologist. I was ready to abandon the idea that I'd like to try natural childbirth. Bring him back...at least give me Tylenol. I remember a scared look on my husband's face (it was his first birth experience) but he stood with me and held my hand while they turned my bed so my head was hanging way down and slipped the oxygen mask over my face - something was wrong with the baby's heartbeat.

I signed my admission papers while someone snapped the hospital bracelet around my wrist and someone else put my legs in the stirrups. One nurse was on the phone calling the doctor while the other rushed to massage the baby's head to keep oxygen moving to the brain. "Call him back!" the massage nurse said to the one that had just phoned the doctor. "Tell him NOW! We have a rapid dissention!" I remember my husband's face when the tiny bald head became visible. I've only ever seen such wonder in the face of a child. Suddenly, excitement replaced his fear and he kept telling me it would be over soon. The doctor arrived in time to cut Emily's cord.

It was 45 minutes, beginning to end.

Emily Caitlyn Riggs was born at 1:45 on this day 8 years ago. She's never looked back. My brother used to call her a "little chunk of hell" and not undeservedly. By the time she was a year old she had been for head x-rays twice to check for skull fractures. At 18 months she drank an entire bottle of aftershave and spent the afternoon at the hospital, and the evening drunk as a skunk (we never did figure out where the aftershave came from, my husband don't wear it). She does everything her own way, in her own time - usually without doubt and without thought - plunging headlong into anything that looks remotely interesting to her.

It's hard to imagine it's been 8 years since the day I first held her. They grow up so fast. Keeping me young and make me old at the same time. They move from stage to stage with little effort, leaving gray hair in their wake. I can't complain. As long as I have my kids and Garnier covers the gray, I'm happy.

The puppy woke me up crying at a little before 5. I went downstairs and opened the crate where he and Calliope were sleeping to let them outside. Calliope faked me out and ran back inside the door and hid under the table. While I was digging her stubborn little butt from underneath a chair, the puppy peed in the floor. It was his first accident inside and it was entirely my fault. Once I got Calliope rounded up and put out back, I took the puppy out front where he immediately finished his business. I think this puppy will be easily trained.

Mental note - do that different next time.

Now the morning constitutions have been attended, coffee is made and he's sitting here in my lap making grunting noises at me and looking at me with those angelic eyes. He's eating and drinking really well, thank goodness. He's a bit dehydrated and I'm not sure how long he's been without his mother. Not long enough to put him in real danger, but long enough. It's going to be hard to resist this puppy. He's like kryptonite - weakening my defenses with those little puppy whimpers. Sigh... I'm going to try to put a picture in here, but being that I'm software stupid, it may not work and you'll have to go to http://www.wordjourney.netfirms.com/Pets.htm (The puppy pictures are at the bottom of the page)Feel free to mention any obvious faults that I'm overlooking.

It's 6:15 now and I've managed very little if you don't count cuddling and a couple of trips to the coffee pot for refills. The other dogs, being old enough to be lazy, have gone back to sleep...like everyone else in the house is. Emily left me a note on the keyboard that says "Do not forget to wake Emily up. Remember!, Love, your daughter Emily." I'm supposed to wake her up at 6:30 so she can assume her puppy-mom duties. She's all set to show me adding another dog to the household will not affect me. Yeah, right. I'm the one that's been awake since before 5. I'll have to tell her that.



In other news, I got a new feather duster yesterday. Perhaps this one will be better behaved and Corri won't be forced to defend herself against an attack from it. And I might get to dust.

I have a mountain of laundry to finish this morning, and just about as much to iron as I have waiting to be washed. I don't enjoy ironing - I'm not good at it, it's hot and it takes a lot of time. It's especially upsetting to take the time to iron clothes then see what my husband and kids do to them once they are put into their closets. I'm not sure what else I can do though besides iron the clothes and let them have at it.

Jake fell off his top bunk last night while playing. My husband was doing the monster thing, chasing them all through the house. Jake and Emily had taken squealing refuge on the top bunk and Doug was acting like he was going to get them. Jake tried to climb off the side of the bunk, swung too hard and THWAP! His face hit the floor before anything else. It seldom turns out any different when they play but far be it from me to remind them of the fact that their play = death and destruction waiting to happen. Jake's fine, hardly bruised even. Good thing he's such a tough old buzzard. His rock hard noggin has saved him many times.

Oh, cool thing I meant to write about the other day and forgot to...On Friday, before Blinkin' died, I stopped by the vet's office to see what he had decided to do and pick up yet another type of food for Brandy dog to try. He wanted to talk to me but he was in surgery, so he sent the receptionist up to see if I would be able to talk to him while he worked (ie: will you throw up?) The girl up front got two kittens out of their house to let the kids play with them and I headed off to surgery. Now I am the one that has passed out cold a couple of times when my kids had much smaller boo-boos. But that is with my kids...other things don't usually bother me. I held on to that thought as I walked down the hall to where he was working. It was amazing. There on the table was a beautiful dog, tongue lolling out of her mouth, stomach open. I was paralyzed by the sight of it. I'm pretty sure the vet sized me up instantly to make sure I hadn't overestimated my abilities and when he saw that I was ok, he gave me a quick education on dog insides. I watched him remove her ovaries and uterus, then stitch things up with great skill. It's one of those things I'd have thought I wouldn't have a chance to see - wasn't sure I'd want to, or could tolerate it. Though I probably will never have a chance to witness such a thing again, or even have need of the bit of knowledge he imparted to me, I'm glad I got to see it. It's just something that will stick in my memory and I'll remember it over the years and think yeah, that was cool.

I've been in vacuum cleaner hell for almost a year now. It all started when my expensive Kennmore vacuum, just out of warranty, bit the dust. I wasn't about to spend another couple hundred dollars on a vacuum or an extended warranty that lasts only until the week before the vac gives up the ghost. I'd been using a vacuum that had belonged to the restaurant. People being generally lazy and not wanting to pick up things like napkins, chunks of food and oh, say, silverware, meant the vacuum stayed in the shop way too often for my husband's liking. He bought them a shop vac so now they can suck away at whatever is laying on the floor and they don't want to stoop to pick up and it won't ruin the vacuum. Smart man - my good fortune.

Until I ran out of vacuum bags, that is. Try as we might, we haven't been able to find vacuum bags for the thing since I got it. I've already been reduced to scooping the dust and icky ewey out of the bag one time and still, no bags. Just my luck it's a commercial vacuum and we aren't likely to find them anywhere around here...even the vacuum place he always got them from when it was being used at the restaurant doesn't have them anymore. Now I don't know if it's just a weird thing about me but I hate to think of ordering vac bags and paying shipping on them. I could do that, and had resigned myself to doing so but there was one little thing that kept me from doing it. Attachments.

Just as sucking up silverware is a given at work, so is losing the attachments. So that means I have none to go with the vacuum, which in turn means, I can't do half the things I use my vacuums for. Translation - I don't like it very much. It does the carpet and that's it. I need a vacuum that does triple duty (cobwebs, ceilings, corners, furniture, curtains, blinds) guess that's more like double-triple duty. So today I went to Lowes and bought myself a shop vac.

That reminds me...

One of my husband's favorite stories from work is about a girl who he says invented the need for dumb blonde jokes. On the day he brought his new shop vac in to work, all the employees were all standing around watching him open it as if it was a present or something. This girl burst out laughing, ran and grabbed another waitress by the arm and dragged her over to the box, pointing and said "LOOK! They spelled it wrong! It's supposed to be SHOCK vac!"
That's his favorite but mine is the day she walked into the kitchen with a soda in her hand and said "I just don't get it; I can drink a few beers and I'm drunk, but I've been drinking sodas all day long and it doesn't do anything to me. "

Well, duh.

I think I just did Linda's mind wandering thing. What's that she says? Oh yeah, thanks for playing.

So anyway I have a new shop vac and I've been through my livingroom top to bottom already. I swear that thing would suck the paint right off the walls if I held it up there for a minute. I think I might end up pretty happy with it. I have attachments, a bag big enough (surely) to last me a year and I know I can get more at Lowes, and get this...it even runs quieter than my old vacuum! I'm a happy camper and it only cost me 50 bucks. Can't do that with a regular vacuum cleaner :)

In other news, the kids are in the kitchen bathing a new puppy. Yeah...call me sucker. Leirin called me from work about 3:15 and said a man was there trying to give this puppy away that didn't have a home. Apparently he found a litter and their mother was dead. He isn't old enough to be weaned, so he will be staying with us until he's ready and when our vet has space in his adoption program we will have him placed through there. I hope the other puppies the man has already given away do well. This one sure is a cutie. I just hope my common sense is able to hold out for a couple of weeks. My husband hasn't even seen him and he's already dubbed him Junior Jr. and his voice turned all sappy on me when I was talking to him on the phone.

Sad story there. I don't know if I've ever wrote about that before. When I met my husband he had a little black lab/dalmation mix named Junior. He loved that dog (lots of great stories I could tell about him) more than anything in the world. Junior disappeared on the dayI went to the hospital to have Emily. Twice before he had been stolen, but we had been lucky enough to get him back when he escaped and someone else found him. This time though, we weren't able to find him again. That was 8 years ago next week. For an entire year, my husband would wake up in the middle of the night and ride the neighborhood calling for that dog. Just last month he called me to tell me he saw a dog that looked like Junior sitting in the back of a truck outside the restaurant. Just like Junior, this dog had a white tuxedo chest with dalmation spots, his toes were white with dalmation spots and the very tip of his long black tail was white. The dog was graying just as Junior would be by now at the age of 12. The dog looked so happy, he couldn't bring himself to ask the man if he had found him or how long he'd had him.

Back in the present - I'm sitting here with a freshly bathed, slightly scrawny, sleeping baby dog in my lap. I'm wondering if I even have the heart to tell my husband we can't keep this dog if he ends up thinking we should. I don't think I could.

Winkin and Blinkin

They were in the cage in the top left corner...two adorable little kittens, each just a hand full. Each had one huge bulging eye, swollen and blinded by the infection their owner hadn't wanted to treat. They had been brought in to be put down, the whole litter was there, but these two kittens had been the only ones to actually lose an eye to the infection. The female, a beautiful long-haired calico with the pinkest nose I've ever seen, rubbed constantly against the cage, begging for affection. The male, a gray and black stripped baby, would stand on his hind legs just like a little squirrel, and stretch his neck as close to the cage door as possible trying to get a better look. The rest of the litter had been adopted, but nobody wanted either of these two that would be left with only one eye each and were partially blind in the other. Bonnie agreed to take one of my healthy cats into the adoption program in exchange for me giving the kittens a permanent home.

We named them Winkin and Blinkin. They took their place on our bed the first night and took over our hearts shortly after. Especially Blinkin. He dubbed himself *my* kitty. If I sat down, he was in my lap. If I went to bed, he was on my tummy, giving me kitty kisses on my nose. I slept every night to the sound of his purring into my shoulder where he would tuck his little face into my hair. At the computer, he was right with me. I could call his name and he would come running, as good as a well trained dog. I've said many times he was meant to be mine. Every day he practically told me so with how much he loved me back. I love that sweet cat.

We've had a lot of animals over the years since we started collecting strays and other unwanteds. It's a great thing to know that we make a difference. We get so much from each animal we bring home. Some don't survive whatever is going on with them when we first find them, some are placed in new homes where they are wanted and will be cared for, and others remain with us for their lifetime. We love them all and occasionally there will be one that teaches us just how deeply one can love a little furry critter - one capable of becoming as much a part of us as family. They are the most rewarding part of what we do, and often, the most difficult.

I just had to bury Blinkin. He was lost to FIP and there was nothing that could be done. For 8 weeks now our vet has worked hard to find the source of his problems and today exploratory surgery revealed a cause there was no fix for. He called me to apologize for not having better news and to ask permission to put him down while he was still sedated, which I gave him.



Sometimes I think I don't have the heart for this.

Gracious, it's been a long time since my last blog. It's been so busy here that time has just got away from me. Not much new going on in our neck of the woods. Our old Brandy dog was diagnosed with kidney disease and I do the battle of the food with her twice daily now. She has gone on a hunger strike because she can't have table food any longer. Damn dog. Here we are running out to buy her fresh liver and feeding her $2 a can dog food and she's turning up her pug nose at it. Makes me want to tie her ears in a knot.

I've been busy getting the house together and Jake started school on Monday. It's a light load for the next 3 weeks, but still, it's school during the day and it's an adjustment. The good news is he hit a point with his reading where something seemed to click last night and he just read everything...two lessons, almost 40 pages...he blew right through them. Here's to hoping he's turned that corner and won't resist it so much. I'm a lot less stressed. I really worried about if I had what it takes to teach him to read. And if he had the patience for it. Perfectionist.

We spent this past weekend in Hilton Head Island. It was awesome. I've never seen a place so tourist-y that remained so natural. There were so many trees, even in the resort areas that you could only see one building no matter where you stood. Even the shopping areas are complete with trees and there are ponds everywhere. We didn't see a lot of alligators like I had hoped to, but my husband did catch a glimpse of 4 gators sunning themselves on the banks of a pond on a roadside golf course one evening as we drove by. Talk about a water hazzard.

The Island was fun. Emily and Jake took to the ocean like, well, fish to water. Those two near the ocean are a heart attack waiting to happen to me. Thrill seekers they are. We survived though, and so did they. We dug clams on the beach and picked up shells. We even brought hom a couple of hermit crabs (purchased, not found) as a souvenier of our trip. They've been fun to watch and they live in painted shells that are just adorable. One is a kitty cat face complete with ears, whiskers and sunglasses and the other, small one, is painted like a soccer ball. We have an assortment of other shells ready for them to move into when they are ready and we are making plans for decorating their aquarium place.

Of course since we got back, the laundry is piled up and much cleaning awaits. I've felt like I've been running a race since the minute we walked in the door Sunday night. A lot is happening but it's happening at such a pace I can hardly get it straight in my mind enough to write about it. I hate such a frantic pace but it seems I can't get away from it no matter what I try. Speaking of housework, it's all waiting for me today so I should get at it. I'll try to take some time to catch up over the next few days.

Spend the night

My mom and dad planned a cookout yesterday at the last minute. Not that it was difficult to do; my brother and his wife are already living with my mom while they wait for their new house to be completed, and since my pop ends up at my mom's house most weekends or days off, all it required was a call to me and a chat with my grandma next door. My husband closed the restaurant early due to lack of interest from customers, so even he was able to make the trip with us. The kids were excited, dad usually only gets to be off work on Thanksgiving and Christmas day, so it was an event.

My sister-in-law's parents were there visiting when we arrived. Her mom has Alzheimers and it's heartbreaking. I remember this woman when she was probably my age. A sharp-as-a-tack red-head with a strong, clear voice and a wit to match, she had been. Not now. Now she sits staring blankly at the action around her, looking like she's lost and confused. I watch my sister-in-law and my heart aches for her - the mama's girl of her family, the baby, the one with a new baby of her own that her own mother now doesn't recognize much of the time. My mother-in-law didn't live to see our last child born and that pains me. There have been so many moments I wish I could have shared with her- that I wish she could have shared with him. I wonder if my sister-in-law feels like that about her mom even though she is still living and it makes my heart ache more. I'm often left wondering, after I see her, if people with this disease are clear-minded inside and just incapable of getting thoughts out. Like, maybe she watches my nephew play and thinks "That baby is getting so big, he's just like you were when you were little. And look at his hair, it will be red yet - he has the temper, that's for sure. Blow grandma a kiss big boy." but all that will come out is "I don't know what to say." I sincerely hope not. It's a wicked disease.

When the patties were pounded and the grill was hot, we headed out back to the grill while the kids went screaming for the pool. Jake is becoming the master of the dog paddle in his new swim suit with built in floaty thingies. That boy cuts through the water like a hot knife through butter now. If only he could close his mouth and stop swallowing so much of it. Occasionally he will get caught in the face by a wave created by the girls' splashing and when he's finished choking and belching, he will give me a thumbs up and paddle on. They had been in the pool just long enough to get wet real good when thunder rolled in the distance, just faint enough for us to wonder if it might be fireworks. Just a few minutes later from over the tops of the tall oak trees, came a patch of clouds dark as night. As they slid across the sky above the tree-tops a wind whipped underneath them, sending leaves from the big oaks twirling through the air toward the ground. Unmistakable thunder clapped loudly close by this time, and we hustled the kids out of the pool and to the safety of the house. We just managed to get the food off the grill before the rain came. We sat inside the house, chowing down and marveling at how fast that storm had come from out of the blue. Emily ate an incredible 2 cheeseburgers AND a hotdog, some chips, and a piece of cake for desert. WOW! I hope she wasn't up all night with a tummy ache. The kids got to go swimming again a couple hours later when the storm had passed through, and they were finally happy.

Emily asked my grandma if she could spend the night with her since nany's house is so crowded with my brother's family living there and just getting settled in. Of course, that meant Jake wanted to stay too. It's hard to know what to do when Jake asks to spend the night with someone because he has a history of not staying. He used to go to my mom's and once dark rolled around, he was ready to come home. "But Nany," he'd say "I've aw-weady spent the night a wong time." and I'd have to pick him up. Lately though, he's been actually spending the night - except for that last time when he came home with a tummy ache. It's hard to tell him no. It's hard to make him feel like he doesn't deserve the same opportunities that the girls get. Hard to let him believe nobody wants him to stay because they think he won't.

I've gone through it with each one of my kids. Leirin always spent the weekend with my mom. Once Emily got big enough to want to go, my mom would call and tell me to have Leirin come straight out to meet her because she had to go do this or that. Truth was, she thought if she didn't see Emily cry, it didn't happen. Finally, I refused to lie to Em anymore and sneak her sister away from her just to make someone feel less guilty. Sneaking didn't lessen Em's pain at being left, it increased it because she had been tricked. I couldn't do that, and I haven't done it with Jake either. For a very long time he was happy just to spend a few hours playing, then he'd come home. He didn't care to spend the night. It didn't mean he would never want to though, but in my mom's eyes it did, and each time Jake would ask to spend the night, her response was "You won't spend the night. You'll get in there at bedtime and want to go home." It's true he has asked to come home sometimes, but so have the girls.

I talked with Jake and explained to him that MaMa may not be able to have both of them to spend the night. It's a lot of work to watch after two kids, and my she was tired. My grandma is 77 years old and though she can work rings around me and most 30 something people, by nighttime, she is tired. I wasn't going to stop him from asking, but I told him if she said "maybe next time" he would have to accept that as a no, and he said ok. He just wanted the chance. He skipped across the yard to my grandma's house next door. He met my mom on the way there and when he told her he was going to ask if he could spend the night too, my mom practically yelled "NO SIR! You won't stay!" so Jake turned and went running back across the yard crying. I love my mom but she has never stopped to consider that he has stayed the night with everyone else he's gone to stay with and it's most likely because they never tell him "he won't stay." or threaten to whip him if he asks to come home. I don't think I'd go stay either. I love my mom but she's just as bad to play favorites with grandkids as she was to choose my brother over me.

So Jake spent the night with my grandma. It's 8:07am and he's still there. Yay Jakey! If my mom would ever show such confidence in him instead of threatening a whipping if he changes his mind, I think she'd find he would change his mind less often. Who'd have thunk it?

It's not even 7 and my oldest just came walking down the hall to the bathroom. I'm impressed by her devotion to the volunteer job she has taken at the horse farm. Three days a week she's there by 7:30 doing an adult job and doing it well. She has scraped horses hooves, wrapped injured ankles, hauled hay and mucked stalls. She helps train to halters, works the horses in the circle thingy (I don't know what it's called, I'm no cowboy), she cleans tack and walks miles a day in open pasture.

I am proud beyond words. According to the farm's supervisor, she puts in a days work equal to anyone else on the farm. She never complains and she doesn't waste time. Today she will walk her miles in open pasture with rain that doesn't stop, and will she complain? Not one bit. She loves what she is doing - knows already that she wants to do this for her whole life - and she's only 11 years old. She is right at home with dozens of horses milling about her, and they are equally comfortable with her in their midst. If I ever doubted that she is meant for this to be her life's work, the horses answered that for me. She is.

I've watched her carry hundreds of pounds of food, stand at the side of horses large enough to dwarf a car, and lead 30 horses with no more than a bucket of oats. It is magically enthralling to see destiny dance openly in front of one so young. It is a gift to see her realize that destiny and embrace it.

It's time to go now...more later, maybe.

It appears that even Linda is going to get in on the Fly wars, so I'm dropping out now.

I give. Uncle. (*and for the record, Miss Martha, I WAS dressed to the shoes yesterday. It just happened to be pajamas with my sandals. But they were buckled.)

My mind has been consumed by other things lately. I'm trying to learn how to build a website. For years I've had programs to do it with, just sitting around the house. I'd get one, couldn't figure it out, get something else. My brother would take pity on me and gift me with something he knew was practically a "dummies" version, and I couldn't figure that out either. Software stupid, that's me. For some reason yesterday I got determined that I was going to learn how to do it, or die of embarrassment. All of my friends have webpages, why don't I? (Don't answer that, I already know the answer)

24 hours and a whole lot of cussing later, I have managed to learn a bit. It's only the simple things, mind you, but I am proud. If anyone happens to read this blog and is so inclined, you can check it out at www.wordjourney.netfirms.com. Feel free to offer ideas for placement and organizing content (even ideas for content) because I really suck at that.

In other news, it's raining here today. That means I have a get out of cutting grass free card. Yay me. I haven't been in the mood for grass cutting. Pisses me off sometimes that my husband works so much. I can barely manage to take care of 3 kids and - I'm counting - 17 animals, business paperwork, housework INSIDE, yardwork out front, and still manage to be a real person. I can't do it all. I appreciate the vote of confidence in his thinking I can (or that I will and then he won't have to), but I can't.

The last several days I've been highly UNmotivated. I don't know. Even Teri asked me if I had PMS. After I reminded her I had been spayed, she just called me bitchy. It's true. I have no energy, my allergies are driving me completely insane. I am not motivated to do much more than zone somewhere doing something not too productive. Is Mercury in retrograde? I'm really off my game. I have, at most, a couple of hours worth of energy (oddly enough it's the two hours after polishing off a pot of coffee) a day; then I'm totally zapped. Shot. Fried. Kaput.

I haven't been sleeping well and I'm sure that's probably the culprit. I'm not sure what to do about not sleeping though. I guess I'll make a run for some valerian root and see if that will help. Maybe I'll take up drinking or something. Depends on which is cheapest and delivers the best results.

In other, other news. Teri has lined up a SECOND television interview! She's set to impress at her reunion for sure. "Hello classmates of years past. Forgive my tardiness, I was held up signing autographs at the television station." Yep, impressive.

Well the washing machine is on it's final spin cycle and my head is keeping time. I think I'll switch out a load and grab a quick nappy before I have to pick dogs up from the vet (check up and shot day). Hopefully I can perk up before I have to leave the house this afternoon.