Menu Plan Monday--ALREADY? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

I have only a few words today: Corporate taxes are due 3/15...which means my accountant wants to see something before then. Which means I should have done more sooner; which means I am still procrastinating on SOME things, which was one of my New Year's resolutions.

Which means we are having PB&J for most of this week.

Thank you for your patience. We will commence planning again soon.

Feel free to send me your plan so I can sponge off your efforts. :)

Home Is Where My Heart Is.

Well, so much for my career as a lunch lady! When one goes through cancer, one experiences a lot of different feelings and thought streams. I would guess that I am not the only woman to have cancer and think, "What if I die? What will happen to my children?"

For awhile I danced with the idea that my homeschool friends would take them in for school, and help them make it through. I have no doubt that many of them would be willing to do it. I'm pretty sure I even pleaded with my husband to not ever put them in school. I'm pretty sure he had moments of panic about the whole thing too.

Then I came to the idea that putting them in school might be okay, so that if something did ever happen, they would at least know the drill, be able to "swim" and better to do it while I am here to help them get accustomed, right? So that's what we did.

#1 was already in public high school by this time. She wasn't crazy about it, but God proved Himself faithful in her situation, many times. I thought #2 should go for 6th grade, so she could join band, and sports or whatever interested her. And little #3 begged me to see her local school, since her sisters were "getting to go". So we visited and she liked it a lot. It helped that it is a lovely new suburban school with primary-colored ramps and banners from the ceiling, and it was recently named the #2 elementary school in our state! I felt so much better.

So they went. And, I immediately decided I should get a job while they're gone, so I can bring in money to help remodel this place. So I did. And it was fun. I got a job in the main kitchen at a large high school in the city next door. The pay rate was great, the fellowship was nice and the work was strenuous, but invigorating.

That was last year.

This year, after #2 and #3 had gotten to hear every single cuss word ever invented, on the school bus and beyond, we prepared to do it all over again. Only I went back to work 2 weeks before they went back to school. My mom was in town, so we muddled through, sans kitchen and everything.

Then the middle school notified me that #2 had scored poorly on a statewide test, in math. And their plan to rectify this was to remove her from art (her special talent which I have paid extra to indulge, for years), and put her in a second period of math wherein she would do an online math program that would help her solidify her math foundation.

When she continued to struggle and the regular math class teacher started spending a portion of the class teaching an individual who did not speak english, I met with the guidance counselor to see what my options were. He thought she would be able to get out of this lower-level class, away from the poorly-behaved, unmotivated students, to get into a better environment for learning. When I contacted the math teacher directly, she disagreed. She said #2 should stay in her class, and perhaps stay after school also, for homework club.

So I had her stay. #2 explained to me that homework club involved sitting in the library (sorry, media center), where the math teacher gave her flash cards. This after spending two hours during the day, in math classes.

Something had to give. The homeschooler in me reared her American-born, mother-bear head and said, "Not with my child, you're not." So the lunch-lady career careened into the ditch, and we made major life decisions.

Thank heavens for choice in education! We have friends who have been attending a charter school that is 60% online, 40% brick and mortar, for several years. This year, that same school opened at 100% virtual option, using curriculum I had already admired, developed by the man who wrote The Book of Virtues.

We applied at Thanksgiving and got in for second semester. I went ahead and transferred #3 also. I had spent many years homeschooling #1, and felt like I was missing out on that time with #3. She liked school, but like most children, loves being at home.

Is it perfect? No. Is it easy? It's not HARD. It is a terrific hybrid of homeschooling and accountability/diligence/tutor-type education. We can be online live with the teachers every day if we want or need to. We can motor along on our own, following their pacing guides to make sure we make adequate progress. It is an amazing option that I actually enjoy.

The most wonderful thing about this type of program is that the student doesn't move forward until they exhibit "mastery" of a subject by scoring 80% or above on an assessment. These assessments are frequent and immediately scored by the program. There are oodles of optional activities to assist you when you struggle, and you may retake the assessments as many times as you need.

Isn't that the way education should be? Last year, #2 got left behind when she had trouble with fractions. The class had to move on. Essentially, her can was kicked down the road for next year's teacher to deal with it. If she didn't get it in the time alloted for this year's class, too bad--movin' on. ACK! How many others are being rolled to the side of the road by this type of program?!

Next thing you know, she's giving up on herself and any hope of post-high school education. No one cares WHEN you learn fractions. No one ever asks that. You just need to learn them. If it takes you one month to get them down pat, rather than 2 weeks, no one cares, EVER. But you do have to get them down. This system handles this rather large dilemma wonderfully.

Do I wish I had all my time to myself, to clean house, or read books or post on my blogs? Absolutely. But the confirmation of my decision became clear last week, when #2 told me she wasn't smart enough to attend a college-prep, charter high school I am considering for her. --What?!

She was sure that since she had been relegated to that math class, and its various entities, she would not be able to cut it in a college-prep program. Only halfway through seventh grade and the label is firmly ensconced on her self-esteem. Ugh. I knew right then I had made the right choice, not waiting until the end of this school year.

Change is always hard. My parents moved me in the middle of 7th grade. It was HORRIBLE. Honestly, I think it damaged my academic progress permanently. I thought about that a lot when I was deciding what to do with my daughter. I wish I had never sent her to public school. But what's done is done. And the experience there will teach her many things I cannot.

Thank you, State Legislature, for allowing us to have charter schools. Thank you, Mr. Bill Bennett for developing the K12 curriculum. Thank you, Sally N., for telling me to go home to my children.

Move over, Reno!

The fame is spreading here at Netherfield! Reno was simply the first of our stock to go Hollywood! (I'm sure someone will be contacting me soon about writing a cookbook, for people who don't have kitchens.)

We received word last month, that Tucker the Wonder Dog, and his sister, Tasha the Judge-Nipper have gone global!

2012 Welsh Corgi Calendar from Brown Trout



Taken almost two years ago, my little rodents' picture made the cover! I told Handyman, we now have celebrities pooping in our yard!

I know there have been several catty comments going on around the water dish, about the "younger set" getting all the attention. But we are doing our best to keep everyone on the same pay grade.

I did make a complete fool of myself at Tractor Supply, showing the clerks my dogs. They were like, "Oh, you have corgis." I'm going, "No. These are actually my dogs."

They say, "Those are your actual dogs?"

Me: "Yes! It's so exciting."

Them: "Cool. Here's your change." They were clearly in awe.

So, since my dogs' photo is by far superior to several of the other months, I have already cut up my calendar. Using the cover shot to cover up the ridiculously bad January selection. February is a cute blue merle Cardi, so I will go with that. March is, of course, MY DOGS, so that will do. June is #1's best friend's dog, Sparky, so we will keep that one. And all the rest will probably be hidden.

I am not one bit of a stage mother. Don't think it for a second. The girls haven't minded giving up their beds for the corgis at all.

Hollywood comes to Reno

The greatest horse in the world finally got some notice...and brought in a little cash, for once!

Handyman has a side gig, other than remodeling. He does lighting for film and tv. And every now and then, he lets us be part of it. Back in the 90's, #1 got to be in a spot for the Children's Museum. I think that was the last time we got to be part of it.

All the girls wanted to meet Jim Varney, but that didn't work out. #1 wouldn't go meet Jake Lloyd, no matter how much we begged her. She did get to stand next to Peyton Manning, but Handyman didn't introduce them. #2 did get to meet Julianne Hough, her personal hero, and get her picture taken with her.

#3 doesn't get it yet.

After I bathed him and sprayed his tail with Pam spray (a quickie detangler), he was ready for his close-up:

As is usually the case, he did take after take after take, patiently and with good humor. He was a little put off by the big fuzzy mike, but kept his cool.

Meanwhile, the peanut gallery begged for handouts:


The spot turned out beautifully! click HERE

I even got to be in it! But Reno deserved much more screen time. It's the second time in my life that I have received a free, 24-year old horse that has changed my life.

Tumble Dry now set to low

Another gigantic change at Netherfield...mom will be home 3 days a week now! Happy dance!

We went from homeschooling 3, to breast cancer, to public school for one and free-range/homeschooling for 2, to public school for 3--mom working 5 morning hours/5days week, for a year. Then I had the summer off, along with 4H 2 nights/week. Then we gutted the kitchen, and the master bath, and invited the contractor in to do major work. Then I went back to work 2 weeks before the kids went back to school. Then the kids went back to school. Then #1 had 5 weeks of studying Islam, with a project on Islam. Then #2 had a unit on Islam, along with a paper OR a children's book on the 5 Pillars of Islam, to be donated to the local elementary school (!). Then the kitchen never made any progress because Handyman is never here and #3 cried one night that she missed the kitchen. Then I got a letter from the IRS saying I forgot to pay last year's quarterly payment.

Then I decided I had reached my limit...and that's a good thing.

Dreamin'

What if your dream horse came into your life belonging to someone else? The color you wanted...the build you wanted...the talent you wanted...the personality you wanted. Would you be happy, or jealous, or a little of both?

What if you were busy living your life and he was more than you could ever spend on a horse, but you got to ride him, for free?

What if the more you got to know him, the more you loved him and then you had to stop riding him because he was going to go showing with someone else?

What if you didn't get to see him again for awhile? Would you be able to just fuggedaboutit--sorta like a high school romance, great and dramatic, but burnt out and over.

What if you could have him, at your house, indefinitely...but he was too lame to ever jump again and might not become sound?



What if your husband said, "That's why we built three stalls." :)

Pinch me...I think I'm dreaming...

Hard to Admit

I didn't want to mention this to anyone, because then it would be "out there", admissable. I have become a remodeling wimp. My chops are sagging. For so long I have fancied myself quite the tough girl, capable, strong, fearless, adaptable. But alas, tis but a ruse. I am a pansy in disguise.

Without my own bathroom, I whine and fuss and it's embarrassing. And currently, it is almost like that scene in The Money Pit, where Shelly Long opens the medicine cabinet and the workman on scaffolding on the other side hands her her birth-control pills.

I have a realistic-looking sink. In fact, it would be a real sink, IF IT WEREN'T DISCONNECTED! So I put on make-up at the mirror, listening to the chatting workmen on the other side of the wall. Then I notice the toilet sitting across the room, in pieces and I remember...I DON'T HAVE A BATHROOM OF MY OWN ANYMORE. I share with two girls who make my goats look neat. This isn't pretty, so I'll stop now. (But wait until the middle of the night, when I have to go down two flights of stairs, down the hall, past two large windows, into the bathroom with the COLD TILE FLOOR I HATE!!)

Today the contractors put in two gigantic beams in our garage ceiling. When they built our garage 24' 2x8's for floor joists were allowed...not anymore Paduwan. So up went the uber-beams. And the Jumanji-hole in the floor of the back room is now full with concrete. Tomorrow, the day the first rain in a month is due to come, they will be building out some dormer on the outside before they start cutting through the roof underneath. And they have to frame up the new stairs to the back room. Which will have to get a new name...back room = storage place we love to hate.

In the meantime, the gals and I are having hommus for supper, with cheese sticks, the occasional chicken nugget, bagel, microwave popcorn and tomato soup that I cooked in an electric skillet (courtesy of my SIL). For a treat last Sunday, I cooked macaroni and cheese in a 3-gallon pot on a propane burner in my driveway!

Maybe Grandma will take pity on us again...and hire a plumber.

Germs run amok!

Just so I can prove that our lives are completely not-normal...here is the timeline from one week ago:

Wednesday pm: We have Awana at our church, where I shepherd 65 2nd graders around for 2 hours. Hectic and worthwhile. Of course there are plenty of germs to go around. 10pm, after we are home, #3 starts complaining of stomach pain and begins vomiting--yea!

Thursday am: I stay home from my amazing lunch lady job to keep #3. She barfs throughout the morning, going through 3 sets of sheets. Somehow she can't get it to the trashcan, or the bathtowel on her bed.

Thursday pm: after washing umpteen sets of pukey sheets, things seem to have settled down and I got the kitchen CLEAN, just like they taught me at work. :) I take #1 across the street after school to keep the little boy who usually comes to our house on Thursdays, trying to save his family from any contamination. She gets to watch 2+ hours of Kipper and some scottish claymation show with funny dialogue she recites for the next 36 hours.

Friday am: I take #3 to her Grandma's for the morning, until Handyman comes home around noonish. (Oh, yeah, he was out of town, of course.) She hasn't barfed since yesterday morning and no fever. She just wants to sleep. My mom is flying in from FL on Saturday night, for an out-patient surgery. Tonight we are supposed to get together with cousins at MIL's house for my SIL b'day.

Handyman picks up #3 after lunch and takes her home. She seems okay. So we take her back to Grandma's and we all have a terrific supper. Fried chicken, homemade slaw, mashed potatoes with horseradish and green beans with bacon. Mmm, mmm, good. (This is important. It'll be the last meal I have for several days.) ;)

Saturday am: I cannot lift my head off the pillow. Somehow, miraculously, I do not barf my brains out. I drink honey water and pepto bismol tablets and never leave my bed, really, for about 8 hours.

Handyman heads to the airport to pick up my mom, and take her to HIS mom's house (where we had dinner last night). The two moms can hang out together and avoid the Bubonic plague that is reproducing in our home.

Sometime late Saturday pm: I learn later that this is when #1, #2 and MIL start barfing their brains out. I am blissfully sleeping through it, while Handyman cringes on the far side of the bed, facing away from me, clutching a Lysol can.
My mom is immersing herself in hand sanitizer, while her hostess is heaving in the next room.

Sunday afternoon: I am able to sit up and watch a little tv. I hear that girls have stopped barfing, but I do not venture downstairs until the later playoff game. Handyman doesn't really want me to sit by him, I can tell. I see rolled up sheets by the washer. I'm sure he'll get those washed for me. Mom is not barfing yet.

Sunday pm: #1 and #2 are grey with blue lips. I think they can stay home tomorrow. #3 is back to normal. Mom makes a batch of Cracker Barrel chicken and dumplings and sends them up with Handyman. They are awesome. I eat two entire spoonfuls!

Monday am: #1 and #2 stay home. I go to work. #3 goes to school. MIL is reputedly recovering. Mom still not barfing, which is good. She has to be at surgery at 7 am tomorrow.

Monday pm: #1 and #2 have regained their color and have watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy all day. #2 is with me that the battle scenes are too epic, too long and too boring. Everyone will be heading back to school tomorrow. I discover rolled up icky sheets still by the washer and take them directly to the trashcan.

Tuesday 5:40 a.m. I wake up to that familiar sound: "Bwaaaaaah!" It's Handyman, in the bathroom! Ack! Quick call to Mom, who says MIL is up and going already and she can take Mom to surgery and bring her home. Good thing--Handyman isn't leaving the bedroom. I cover all the chores, dogs, chickens, horses, cats, kids and head back to work while my head starts getting snotty.

Tuesday pm: Surgery goes well and Mom arrives back at Base Camp #2. Girls take out trash cans and Handyman remains completely out of commission. I continue to do all chores and make a new batch of laundry soap.

Wednesday: Another Wednesday, here already?! Off to Awana again. Handyman rises from his sickbed in the late afternoon. I still haven't seen my mother, who came into town last Saturday.

Thursday: We seem to be over it and I got a jump start on losing those 5 lbs. I gained over Christmas. I get to see Mom, who is leaving on Monday. We laugh (not at all) about the amazing-ness of bacteria.

Life in the Remodeling Trenches

I am giving thanks today for rigid-foam insulation board--why? you might ask...

Well, it will allow the toilet nearest my bedroom to remain above 50 degrees this evening. Many of you have gone a long time since you've used a privy...let me tell you there's a lot of positive things going on with indoor, heated plumbing.

Here's an actual conversation with Handyman, from earlier this summer:

"Well, now that I've ripped out the oil tank by the front door AND the sidewalk; and we've enjoyed that gravel sidewalk all winter, I need about $500 for materials to re-do the sidewalk in the bluestone that we picked out.

Me: Okay, I think I can come up with that...

Him: (Gazing over my head at the front of the house.) Well, before I put in the new sidewalk, I should tear off the roof because I could back the dump trailer right up to the front door and you wouldn't want to do that with a new sidewalk...

Me: (Mouth falling open--for once, speechless)

Him: (continuing on)...and if we're going to tear off the roof, WHILE WE'RE AT IT*, we should put in those dormers that we have been saying we want...it would be silly not to do that at the same time...

* The most expensive four words in remodeling

Me: (Mouth still open) gaaaaa...I guess so.

So, the dudes who tear off roofs for a living, came and only one of them fell off, outside #1's bedroom window, breaking the deck, but not his arm. And then the contractor came and added two wonderful dormers, one in the master bath and one over the front door. Now we can see out to the driveway from the landing at the top of the stairs. How it should've been all along, I think.

Handyman, being the can-do guy that he is, decided to go against one of his earliest statements upon moving here: "That roof is too steep for me. I'll pay someone to put a new roof on it."

And so with the money we saved from the roof, we went to a building materials auction and bought kitchen cabinets, for my birthday! Handyman and I met at an auction, so it is always enjoyable to return to our roots.

We spent all day in a giant, filthy warehouse, but got a terrific bargain for our efforts. Everyone around us agreed! 28 brand new kitchen cabinets, no particle board, some with beveled glass in the doors, for $2100!! Woo hoo!

And just to keep the entertainment level at peak, we brought them all home in a horse trailer! The Clampitts get a kitchen!

As the worm turns...

And man, has it ever turned! We are a changed family. We decided back in the spring to put #2 into school this year, since she was ready for 6th grade. We wanted her to have the chance to get started with band and sports and things that #1 really missed out on, when we stuck her into 8th grade, mid-year. (Not the best timing, we realized, but it was what it was.)

Well, #3 wasn't too interested in staying home alone, so we visited a teeny-weeny private Christian school that was absolutely darling, but didn't have a teeny-weeny tuition; and we visited our local public school. #3 said, "Mommy, it looks like the Children's Museum!" And it does.

So as summer was waning, both girls were signed up for public school, and I started looking in earnest for a part-time job. And I got one, at a local high school cafeteria.

So I spend my days making cold sandwiches, viewing the juvenile public up-close and personal and throwing away hundreds of pounds of food each and every day. (More on that later.) I've joined a team of ladies who work hard and strive each day for efficiency and overall pleasant-ness. It's really enjoyable.

The best thing about it? Each day, I complete something. Not like at home, where nothing is EVER done. I can totally see how women would come to rely on the separateness of going to work and shutting the door on home for awhile.

Oh, the other best thing is that the pay is very good and I am home every afternoon, evening, weekend and holiday AND summer! The tools of my trade: a hairnet and some plastic gloves...yee ha!

Summer in full swing

It is with great relief and a fist full of benadryl, that I announce "the first cutting is in the barn!" Yee ha--what a summer it has already been.

You may remember that last summer, the very kind firefighter around the corner, GAVE me his 3 acre field of grass/alfalfa hay. It was my first time to be master of my own destiny and what a lot did I learn! I learned head knowledge about hay and made contacts. I learned to be obsessed with the weather forecast and then to not trust anything I heard. I learned that no matter how well my plans were laid, I really had no control over anything. And I learned not to cry, because trusting the Lord is much more rewarding, even in matters of animal fodder.

So this year, I have that same field and I called my "Hay Guy" from last year. He was glad to hear from me and tipped me off that he would be fishing in Canada the first week of June. I could/should call him whenever I thought the weather was ripe for cutting...dum dum dum...heavy hangs the head that wears the hay crown.

Now last year, the month of June was NINE INCHES over for precipitation. Last year I didn't get the hay cut until JULY 3--AND THEN IT RAINED ON CUT HAY FOR TWELVE HOURS on the fourth of July. Do you see the ulcers forming in my duodenum? I get a twitch over my eye just typing "rain on hay for twelve hours". I prayed for a new learning experience this year...learned the whole rain lesson, Lord, TYVM.

So this year, I called the Hay Guy the Sunday, a week before Memorial Day and by golly, we got her done! And the absolute most wonderful thing happened to me--I got to drive the tractor with the baler attached. It was one of the highlights of my life--I know I could not stop smiling. I almost cried. I will never forget how wonderful it was. There was just something about the perfect weather, bright sunshine, the great smell of the hay and the process that just charmed me.

And then, Handyman actually got off work at a reasonable hour and he showed up at the field while I was driving the tractor. Could it get better?? There was a small crimp in the happiness when Handyman tried to back the hay wagon up to our barn. You may be nodding your head right now, thinking "You CANNOT back a hay wagon." And you'd be right in saying just that.

I was in the hayloft at that time, sweeping vigorously in order to keep my lips together. #1 was down below, yelling directions at her father, and then yelling up at me to call my neighbor to come over to back the wagon FOR her father. I explained to her that I would do no such thing and that she should keep her lips zipped.

45 minutes later, we settled for having the haywagon in the same field as the barn and cursed our complete lack of foresight in how we laid this whole place out. It is completely unhandy, in every possible way--But it looks nice from the driveway. Fortunately we had hired two teenage boys to loft the bales from the trailer across the three-foot gap to the barn loft door. We kept the teenage girls in the loft, catching the bales.

No elevator this time--Handyman thinks elevators are for wimps--okay, not really. But we were in a hurry, what with all that time spent trying to back towards the barn, from the north, from the west and then the north again. The rain has been pretty frequent since then and I see lots of hay still in fields all around here, almost falling over.

And I'm SO completely thankful to have my first cutting successfully put up! I'm looking forward to getting at least one more cutting and HOPING I get to drive the baler again. I'd be willing to pay more just for the chance to do it. Call me crazy!

I haven't been posting because..........

because I gave up complaining about the weather for Lent! It's true. One of my daughters gave up wearing pants (which is wearing a little thin with her at this point.) I couldn't really think of anything I relished that I could possible give up, without harming someone else..."I won't clean the chicken house for Lent".

Then it dawned on me. I love to complain about the weather. It is the one thing I allow myself to complain about. I complain heartily. I complain about the weather with regularity. It is the outlet for the sarcasm I try to banish from the rest of my speaking day. I had to admit; I LOVE complaining about the weather.

And this state gives me so much material to work with. So, I gave up complaining abou the weather for Lent. It is a big sacrifice this year, because of the ridiculous statistics we are racking up here. But, I shan't go into them now.

Our life is roller-coastering right now as Handyman's father has been in the hospital since Valentine's Day. Two times he was sent out to rehab (after having a feeding tube put into his stomach). And two times he has been rushed back to the hospital. Today he is being moved to hospice. It is not going to be a long stay.

I am confident that he answered the call of Christ in the recent past and can rest assured that he will be free from his failing physical body soon.

Winter blues

Well, the firefighter came and plowed out our driveway for us--first time ever to have that done. And it is appreciated. The piano teacher came zooming up the driveway in her little sedan, lamenting about customers cancelling. She said this is nothin' compared to northern Illinois. We must have gotten about 8" last week. It is pretty, I'll say that. And a ton more coming in tonight.

But I'm done with it. And now the Colts have lost. And Handyman is in Connecticut, via truck, not plane. And then there's this...in my chair, in my office, this morning...and on the floor. (Okay--I took the picture on my phone to send it to Handyman and then I cleaned it up and I don't know how to send it to my computer.) IT was a mouse, in a couple of pieces on the floor next to my chair and IN my chair, was barfed up more mouse with a big wet spot and a pile of erp. Aren't you glad I don't know how to send it from my phone. I'll be happy to send it to your phone if you like...

This never happens when he's home. Either the vermin sense his missing presence and they stridently march in, or the cats are just lazy when he's here, thinking he'll cover for them. Either way--it NEVER happens during the day. And that means, mice are running around here at night!

Where's my Lysol? Where's the sun? It's 8 degrees this morning and I have the Superbowl Blues. My favorite commercial--probably the Google ad, followed by the Underwear in the Office people. The Who (who I never liked, never listened to and was shocked that they were chosen), was undoubtedly the WORST halftime show EVER. They should have gotten Garth Brooks or Tim McGraw AND Faith Hill or Billy Joel and Elton John or someone who could sing! And what's a pinball wizard? That was the only song I had even heard of.

Annual NFL Wacky Name Call-Out

I have blogged about this previously, but in honor of the Superbowl coming up, I will revisit the amazing variety of wacky NFL names...this year, we in the name-appreciation field pay homage to the NFL's missing: Plaxico Burress (currently serving time in federal prison for shooting himself in the leg with an unlicensed handgun, at a nightclub.)

Let's begin with the AFC East:

The Buffalo Bills have: Gibran Hamdan, Justise Hairston, Marshawn Lynch, Richie Incognito, Kawika Mitchell, Jairus Byrd, Drayton Florence, Leodis McKelvin and Ashton Youboty!

The Boring Old Patriots are the least represented in the Name-Bowl with: BenJarvus Green-Ellis, Tully Banta-Cain and Adalius Thomas.

The Dolphins have: Lousaka Polite (sounds like a greek restaurant entree), Ikaika Alama-Francis, Akin Ayodele, Channing Crowder, Vontae Davis, Yeremiah Bell, and Gibril Wilson.

And the Jets--who I will not disparage here, even though their coach tried to trash-talk the Colts before he was handed his season-ender...but I digress. The Jets have: Jerricho Cotchery, the infamous D'Brickashaw Ferguson (whose mother liked the movie the Thorn Birds, so much that she butchered a character's name and gave it to her son), Ropati Pitoitua, Sione Pouha, Lito Shepherd, Kenwin Cummings, James Ihedigbo, 2 Marques and 1 Marquice.

The NFC East Cowboys (how they got in the "East" is beyond me), have: Tashard Choice, Martellus Bennett, Montrae Holland, Flozell Adams, Igor Olshansky, Junior Siavii (which reminds me of Junior Seau of the Patriots, whom I didn't even mention because it seemed boring in comparison to all the others), DeMarcus Ware, Cletis Gordon, Orlando Scandrick and Shaun Suisham. Those last two have pretty ordinary first names, but combined with their last names, I felt the rhythm of the two names together warranted mention. Just my own personal choices, of course.

The New York Giants are a veritable gold mine for name aficionados like me: Rhett Bomar (wonder what movie his mom liked?), Gartrell Johnson (need a standout first name when your last name is Johnson), Madison Hedgecock, Ramses Barden (might as well go for early history ruling figure, all-powerful Pharaoh considered a god by his people), Domenik Hixon, Sincorice Moss, Hakeem Nicks, Darcy Johnson (an Austen fan, like me, I'm sure), Bear Pascoe (really?), Guy Whimper, Sha'reff Rashad, Mathias Kiwanuka and Osi Umenyiora. Wow.

The Philadelphia Eagles are no slouches with: Eldra Buckley, King Dunlap, Fenuki Tupou, Juqua Parker, Brodrick Bunkley, Moise Fokou, Omar Gaither, Chris Gocong, Joselio Hanson, Macho Harris, Asante Samuel (although I have heard this name so often during games, it seems very "normal" to me), Quintin Demps AND Quintin Mikell (what are the odds of that?) and Sav Rocca.

I'll wrap up today with the Washington Redskins: Colt Brennan, Ladell Betts, Rock Cartwright (must be Hoss' cousin), Quinton Ganther, Santana Moss (mom loved the guitarist, I bet), Brian Orakpo, Kedric Golston, London Fletcher, LaRon Landry, Graham Gano and my personal favorite, Antwaan Randle El!!

The highlight of my Christmas this year was an Antwaan Randle El bobblehead, in his IU uniform. (Only I thought it was going to be a Droid phone). I love Randle El trick plays--and I probably have three of the only girls in the US who could tell you who Antwaan Randle El is!

I'd love to go on and on with the NFL Name Bowl--we haven't even mentioned OchoCinco yet, but chickens need let out. Handyman is home from his Superbowl Tour and has a great picture of himself with the Lombardi trophy. But I don't think I can post it--he might get in trouble or something.

Happy Superbowl Week!

My New Year is just getting started...

Due to family illness and the glorious weather, our holiday season dragged out for quite awhile. Which isn't always a bad thing. It was fun, there was lots of food and I got a boot dryer!

What woman doesn't want/need a boot dryer?! Any woman, like me, who treks to her barn and henhouse four or more times a day, needs a boot dryer. I also had to pull out the YakTrax I got last year. These are stretchy traction devices for the bottoms of my boots. My chickens are envious, but I think their little toenails would get in the way.

It wouldn't be winter here at Netherfield/Neverdone if we didn't have a chicken in the kitchen and this year is no exception. One day last week, I was setting out the little banty hen who has decided to go broody (it's winter you moron!)and I discovered she had been sitting on/in a broken egg. Ugh. It's way too cold for that. At first I set her outside to get some water, thinking I had pulled out all the egg bits. But a Rhode Island Red came over immediately and started pecking at the little gal, so it was off to the kitchen for a grooming session.

Keep in mind that we do have a slop-sink bathroom off our kitchen, so I am not talking about bathing a chicken in my kitchen sink! And what morning would be complete with bathing a chicken. Chickens are not big on bathing, even when they need it and this little gal was no exception. She was fortunate to get a warm water bath and I discovered her entire belly is completely bald! She has made a big brood patch on her belly to keep the eggs warm!

So then I got started blow-drying. Other than becoming alarmed when she could see herself in the full-length mirror, she LOVED being blow-dryed on low. She almost sprawled out on my lap to help! And there's no better smell for your kitchen than a boot-dryer on high with a little blow-dried chicken on the side!

Every day is another mind-numbing routine of busting and refilling water bowls for chickens, barn cats and horses. There is a heater in the horse water tank that runs on a timer and this week I have been shoveling clean snow into the tank. If it would ever get warm enough to melt just a little, the snow on the steel barn roof will melt and channel into the tank. But for now, it's easier to shovel powdery snow than to haul water out there.

The barn cats sit faithfully on their little heating mats and eat their canned food quickly. Whatever freezes in their dish, I give over to the dogs to remove! Keeps them busy and entertained.

Then there's the never-ending process of emptying the muck tubs of their frozen loads. The colder it is, the more the horses stand in the barn and fill their stalls. I got in a little bit of trouble last year for breaking too many muck tubs by dropping them on their sides to dump them. Cold and plastic don't always work well. So my solution this year--always have Handyman dump the muck tubs. It's worked great so far.

Remodeling

Remodeling--it's fun, exciting, expensive, and educational! We tell people all the time about the cartoon, that I carry in my daytimer AND have taped to our refrigerator--but mostly just burned into our brains--that shows Satan standing at the "doors" to the underworld. There are two choices for the poor bum waiting on the brink. One portal reads, "Burn for all eternity" and the other says, "Live in your home while you're remodeling". Satan quips, "Pretty much a toss-up, isn't it?!"

Yep. Well, I think so. As Handyman tore into the dining room wall after church, the rest of us shielded our plates from debris and I threw newspaper at #1 to tape over the heat vents in the floor--(which lead directly to our $10 million geothermal heat pump!)

#1, being a seasoned remodeling baby, went right at it, taping protection down. When it comes to heat, we women are pretty possessive and protective. We'll take every micro jule (or BTU or whatever) we can get.

I was proud of my little women. Nobody batted an eye as Daddy started yanking off planks of drywall while we ate. In fact, #1 got into it. It was a stress-reliever for her. What did surprise me (silly me), was that #3 didn't know much about how much we've done to the house that she lives in. She thought it had looked like this since we moved in!! Yikes!

Obviously, babies do not pay close attention to fiber-cement siding, custom window trim and the quality of interior doors. She did not realize that the nook used to be an outdoor deck and that the big spot of particle-board subfloor in her bedroom is where #1's closet was. She didn't know that her bedroom originally had one ridiculously small window AND a set of patio doors!

Fortunately, Handyman did insist that I make a remodeling scrapbook of this monstrosity we call home. During #3's short life, Daddy has been busy building the barn, the fence and now the treehouse, and she's seen very little work on our actual abode--a fact not lost on Handyman. I whipped out the scrapbook and showed her how the house looked when we first looked at it. In a word--ick.

I told her how we didn't move in for a month, while Daddy ripped up the original 1971 shag carpet, with the original 1971 cat pee stains. How he even ripped up the subflooring in our bedroom and we moved in with no carpet on the replacement subfloor.

I told her how that first winter, we only had the shower in the bathroom off the kitchen-the one with NO heat vent--to use. And how we took her sisters to Grandma's once a week for a bath. I showed her the pictures of the front doors, with the hideous blue siding and solid metal doors, that were the first thing to feel the crowbar when we came.

I think she was a little impressed. She quickly grew accustomed to the big orange extension cord trailing through the rooms and adapted well to the sawzall running while she played downstairs.

As I have seen time and time again, Handyman is much more organized in his processes (THANK GOD!), than I would be. I woulda cut the hole in the wall at 1pm, just to experience the thrill of light coming in, (and heat being sucked out!) But not my guy--he spent most of the day measuring and marking. Then he had to move some wiring around. Then he moved the insulation and built the header and framework, AND installed it, without touching the siding on the outside.

Then, I just happened to find a text from Hayfield Owner, from 3 days previous, asking if Handyman had gotten the window put in? And I just happened to text back that window installation was actually in progress at that very moment, if he was bored. Fortunately, Hayfield Owner was bored and he and his kids rode their bikes over, and stayed for dinner, PTL.

I'm sure if Handyman had continued on with me as the assistant, there would be a lop-sided hole in the wall, with garbage bags taped over it, while he had to go to "paying work" for four days. The window would be leaning up against the wall, with doodling on it and laundry stacked on top of it.

Handyman was able to move forward more quickly with knowledgeable, capable help and they ended up even saving the siding, to make a quick restoration of the outside. The new window went into place at about 8pm, rather than the predicted midnight. And boy was I glad there was someone besides me to stand on the scaffolding and heave it into place!

It was a little less than exciting since it was dark outside when it went in, but I think it got the remodeling bug going again in Handyman. Not that the treehouse is actually finished. There's that whole railing for the bouncy bridge, and railing for the porch side with the 14' drop. But, hey! They're kids! It's exciting for them, right?!

I would post pictures of the window, the sent-from-above helper and the Handyman in his bathrobe cutting insulation, BUT, #1 fell with my digital camera and it hasn't been happy since. So all those pictures are on this archaic device called a film camera and I'll have to drive somewhere to get them "developed".

I will leave you with a picture of the upcoming, massive project, which requires the assistance of knowledgeable people called, structural engineers! But, you can also see from this shot, what the entire house looked like, aesthetically, in the beginning. Unfortunately, you cannot see that the window trim is rotted and falling off, and the windows have lost their seals, etc. And you cannot smell the smell that sent the realtor back to her car--(it wasn't that bad.)


Wish us luck!

This has never happened to me before...

All my children are taking naps and so is my husband. There is a sinister reason for this...THEY ALL HAVE STREP THROAT! Well, except for Handyman, who is sleeping with Lysol in a holster on his side. He has three night shoots coming up.

My children have never had strep throat and they've never all been sick with something all at the same time. As a matter of fact, my children are hardly ever sick. In fact, #3 has never had a sick office call to the doctor, in her entire life.

I guess this is part of what you get when you send your child to public school.
:*(

#1 came home on Thursday, feeling rotten and tired. I let her stay home on Friday, even though she had a social studies test, and she continued to have on-and-off fever throughout the day. Meanwhile #3 had two playdates on Friday, both of them here. #2 went and spent the day at a friend's house, hitching a ride with Playdate #2's mom, in her van--with her 3 other kids.

Then last night, as #3 was getting ready to leave and spend the night with my parents, who had the flu last week, #2 was being dropped off by the family she'd been visiting ALL DAY. That mom is a nurse, and suggested that #1 might go for a strep test today.

Did I mention that #1 was supposed to be at the living history museum today for returning interpreter day? She went to Minute Clinic instead. But before we could get that accomplished, #2 came upstairs with a fever at 7am. (She's the one who rode in the van with 3 other children and then spent the day with 4 other children.) She missed the playdate scheduled for today. (We homeschoolers have trouble with socialization.)

So #1 is positive and #2 should go get tested tomorrow. Oh, and my parents thought #3 was cranky this morning because "she didn't go to bed until 10 last night." I'm thinking--#3 has been up until 10 MANY times before. Mom and Dad put her down for a nap. #3 hasn't had a nap for, oh, 3.5 years! (That's what happens when your sisters are home with you all day.)

Then at 2 pm, Mom and Dad call to say that #3 has a fever of 102. (No wonder she's cranky.)

To be fair, #1 could easily have gotten this at Awana. She leads a table of snotty little Kindergarteners. It's possible. In the meantime, I've got to go fumigate the bathroom and all the phones and doorknobs and car door handles. No rest for the wicked, I mean, well.

A three-hour tour...

Lewis, Clark and Sacajawea put in just south of the driveway.
As they head for the rapids, a friendly Mandan watches...
...and helps them over a shallows.
They turn east at the juncture with the overflowing creek.
and approach the notorious poultry penitentiary, nearly submerged.
Passing between the garden plot, piled high with "horse product" and the chicken "pen", they continue eastward, toward the "fort".
A friendly "native" joins the little band.
Another low spot. Lewis has to drag the dugout.
View from the fort.
Approaching Trail's End.

It's over, it's over, it's oh-oh-over!

Yeehaa! Today it will climb over the 22 degree mark and not be back for at least four days! Yeah! The snow on the barn roof will melt into the water tank. The horse doots will thaw enough to be picked up without the fork splaying into useless forms! The chicken heat lamp will be turned off and the chickens will get to enjoy darkness while they sleep for the first time in two weeks. I will begin paying down my electric bill--if ANY money arrives in my mail box. The horses will not have frost on their whiskers and ears. I will be able to feel my pinkies and not have to chop ice every morning. I will be able to wash my fleece-lined jeans (both pairs), that now stand in the corner at night, and the frozen snot on the backs of the thumbs on my gloves will now thaw and have to be washed out. Ewwwwwwwwww.

MOM ALERT: Here's a great website when looking for good reading material:

Teen Lit Review: Real reviews for the Christian Parent

I love it already!

"Thanksgiving" a few excerpts by Dave Barry

"The only way to be sure you've killed all the bacteria in your Thanksgiving turkey is to cook it until a meat thermometer inserted into the breast melts, indicating that the turkey has attained the same internal temperature as the sun. 'Basically,' advises the surgeon general, 'you want to be serving your family a sixteen-pound charcoal briquette.' Even then you should keep a flamethrower handy."

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"Not everybody is comfortable with the idea of eating turkeys, which are, let's face it, living organisms, like dogs or celery. You may wonder: Is there a more humanitarian option that you can serve for Thanksgiving dinner? There certainly is: It's tofu, a semi-foodlike substance secreted by soybeans as a defense mechanism. Tofu can be used as a high-protein meat substitute, as well as a denture adhesive or tile grout. In its natural state, tofu is tasteless and odorless, but if you form it into a turkey-shaped lump, season it well, add gravy, and bake it for two hours in a shallow pan at 350 degrees, you can also use it for minor driveway repairs."

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"Thanksgiving is not merely a time of eating until we are big, fat, bloated carbohydrate balloons lying motionless on the sofa watching the Detroit Lions while actual gravy oozes from our pores. Thanksgiving is also a time of giving thanks--as the Pilgrims did so many centuries ago--for the fact that the malls are open on Friday. Otherwise we'd have to spend another day cooped up with our loved ones, not to mention toxic levels of leftovers, and the number of domestic drumstick assaults would be even higher than it is."

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"In closing, let's have a big group hug and join together in singing this traditional Thanksgiving song that we vaguely remember from childhood: "Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go! The horse is reluctant, and we can relate, because Grandmother's house has that weird smell."