Husky Hair Everywhere

     School has been in session for a few weeks now, and, so far so good! Thank goodness!


     George's teacher, who also is a friend of mine, apparently mentioned "Sculpture Park" during school recently. We haven't been in a few years, but, George insisted, as, his teacher made it sound like the best thing ever. So, Saturday morning, while Bearded Man was at work, and Joe was at a weekend Scout Campout, we went. Mostly because George was up before dawn, waking me up to ask to go. As soon as possible. He even woke the girls up, so they could hurry and get ready to go.
     Turbo the husky was excited, too! He apparently thought, that, since I obviously wasn't going to work, I clearly had nothing better to do, so, we should go for a walk. All day. Let's go now.
     Turbo has become sort of an issue lately. If he is kenneled for any length of time, he howls and screams bloody murder. The neighbors do not appreciate it. He had matured to the level of letting him stay out of his crate while we aren't home for short periods of time. This has apparently recently changed, however, because he has taken to getting into things, and destroying whatever object aggravates  him at the time. Which, to date, has included several of my fall decorations, a Barbie, all the TV remotes, and the kitchen garbage.
     Looking at the excited dog, as he danced around while I put my sneakers on - a sure sign that I am going to walk him, as, I was not wearing scrubs - Kaila looked at me and begged. "We should bring Turbo, Mom! We can walk him there!"


     "But. My van."


     "But. He wants to go!"


     "My. Van."


     "Please?"


     "My van?"


     "He is just going to destroy stuff again. And he really really wants to go!"


After debate, against my better judgment, I allowed it.


     We need to quick talk about the van. Which has been renamed "Phillipe" as in, the horse in Beauty and the Beast, because, we have had more crazy adventures and off roading in that van, than we ever did in my SUV. I mutter on a regular basis the line from the movie: "Where have you taken us, Phillipe?!"


     Anyhow. Phillipe is kept in pristine condition. There is a very strict "carry in carry out" law for my vehicle. It has a black cloth interior (The leather interior with heated seats was turned down, because, if you recall, I was NOT buying a Mini van.), and is vacuumed and Armor All'd several times monthly. My van is babied and better cared for than any vehicle I have ever owned. I drive it to a garage down the street from work regularly, for all  maintenance. Also, Bearded Man rarely drives it without me getting aggravated about HOW he is driving it. I don't know what the obsession of perfection is about this van, but, it's a thing.
     Fast forward to the husky and his pending arrival to the van, and, I could barely watch as the kids dragged him in. For those of you who don't know much about huskies - They shed. They shed approximately 14 large dogs worth of hair every single day. There is husky hair in every single place possible in my house, and some that really aren't possible, but gets achieved anyhow. Including the refrigerator. If the house is not daily swept, it looks like it hasn't been swept in 2 years. And, now my gray and white husky was getting coaxed into the black interior of my vehicle completely against both his will and mine. But, he eventually got in, and we left.
     It took about 2 minutes to realize that, a very large dog, who is not thrilled about riding in what has suddenly become a very small vehicle, will do everything in his power to alert the passengers of this. So, he began to pace. And to jump on every single seat. And rub against everything. Before we knew it, there was husky hair flying all over the van, made worse by the windows that were slightly open. Husky hair covered my entire dashboard. It covered the touch screen radio consol. It covered the black seats, and, the black carpet now looked white. It flew up noses and mouths, and got into eyes, covered everyone's clothes, and flew about like a snow storm. It was traumatic.


     "Mom. I am SO. SORRY. I promise, I will help clean it up." promised Kaila. Frequently. Every two minutes, as we struggled to keep the dog away from my lap, and the hair out of my line of vision. "It's. Fine." I responded through gritted teeth.


     Eventually we arrived at the Sculpture Park. George could hardly contain himself. "There are potties here! Does anyone need to go potty before we start?" asked my responsible six year old. Both girls shook their heads and denied need of the facilities, so, George went, "Just to be sure."
     In no time, we were hiking the trails of the Sculpture Park. I always forget, though, just how many very very large and very very naked statues of women there are at the Sculpture Park. But, there are. And they are in every position conceivable.
     "Wow, Mom. Whoever made these statues really likes naked women, doesn't he?" mused George


      "George, please stop patting it's butt!" was my response.  


     Actually though, George was great for the entire hike. He stopped frequently to build his own sculptures out of stones, and was thrilled with the entire park.
     My girls; not so much. Approximately 1/3 of the way in, after hiking up hill, they announced they needed to use the bathroom, and were mostly miserable for the rest of the hike. Ah well. Win some, lose some.


     The trip home with the husky was actually worse. By the time we arrived home, my entire van was completely covered in husky hair. It took more that an hour of vacuuming to get what I could out of it. Husky hair is magical, though. Because I found that it had interwoven itself into the floor mats, and was now part of the mats, and completely impossible to remove. Kaila, by the way, conveniently slept through the entire overhaul of poor Phillipe.


     The next morning, it should be noted that it was cold enough that the furnace turned itself on. I stood in resignation, as I watched husky hair blow out of every single floor heat vent that we have. Great tufts of hair, blowing through the air, like a blizzard inside the  house. Dancing and blowing and then taking off to float happily around like Disney Fairies. It Covered every surface and possible nook and cranny.
     I could brush that dog all day, and he would still shed like crazy. It's a good thing I love the little beast.


     Joe has announced that he likes solitude. (Which I can totally appreciate...) So, I have allowed him to lock himself and whatever book he is currently reading, in my bedroom when he needs a break from siblings and the constant stream of kids that are in and out of my house. He was so thrilled with this mini vacation, that he immediately named it his "Solitary Confinement." He could barely wait to go to school and tell everyone about his Solitary Confinement, locked in his parent's bedroom. Thank goodness I caught that ahead of time, and he was persuaded to name it something else.


     Sunday School has also started again. This year, I have an entirely new class, as, my last classes have moved up. (I normally have kids for 7th and 8th grades. This year, they moved them all up, to make a larger Confirmation class in a few years.) I have four kids in my class now, with Lexi being one of them.
     This weekend, we talked about "consequences" as part of the lesson. Somehow, the subject of being part of "the bad group" of kids came up. I don't even remember what round about way we reached it. But, we talked about it. One kid looked completely disgusted. "I AM part of the bad group of kids." he snorted.


     "Yeah. You look really thuggish" I tossed back, continuing on. A few minutes later, he interrupts the conversation with "Ha! 'Good kids'! We had one of those in our group. We kicked him out though, because he was always telling on us when we did bad stuff at school."


     "Wait. WHAT? You mean, you really ARE part of a group of bad kids???!!!! Have you learned NOTHING at Sunday School?"


     "I told you I was. Besides. The good kid got a girl friend. We don't allow those in our group."


     "He Man Woman Haters, are you?"


     "Huh?"


     "Never mind."


Anyhow. It looks as if I have found the next kid guaranteed to send me strait to hell. Twenty more classes to go! Well. Nineteen. I get to get out of one of the October classes, because I am signed up to hike 9 miles of forest with my sister in law. Bearded Man can deal with the class thug. Which will mean he will need to forgo his weekly Sunday School nap...




     Till next time!
    


    

I am calm! You Hear Me? Calm!

     Yesterday began the third year of teaching Sunday School.


     A new wrench has been thrown into the works, because, Kaila has graduated from Sunday School, and now we have no idea what to do with her. Also, Bearded Man dozed through most of it, while hotly denying he had been asleep every time we woke him  up again.


     It promises to be a long year. On the "up" side, the student that has argued every single thing I ever uttered for the last two years, and who has now moved up, came into my classroom and said "I miss this class so much!!!!" mournfully. So, I suppose we must have done some good along the way.




    One of the other Sunday School teachers and her sons sat in front of us during church yesterday. One of her sons had a notebook and a pen, and spent the entire mass drawing devils and monsters, and my personal favorite, some poor clueless man in a boat, unaware that an enormous sea monster with gaping jaws was just about to come up out of the water and eat him. Anyhow, his mother finally realized what her child was drawing and told him it wasn't nice to draw devils in church. So, the young man compensated by writing "Jesus is the Savior. Follow Him, not me." above his last devil drawing. My kids giggled through the entire mass as they watched him, and, I was relieved to find that I am not the only mother who's children do crazy things in church.
      Because, while idly watching the illustrator in front of me, wrestling with George, and listening to a sermon about forgiveness, I happened to notice that Joe, my little alter boy, was on the alter making faces.
     "Jasin! Do you see what Joe is doing?"


     "What. Is. He. Doing?" Jasin whispered back, now that he noticed what was going on. I watched in fascination as Joe made faces that looked like he was twitching, because they were so fast. It dawned on me that I could hear Lexi snickering at the other end of the pew. Leaning forward, Lexi confessed that she was making faces at Joe, so Joe was making faces back at her from the alter.


     Anyhow. It's only just begun.


     Also this weekend, I took the children grocery shopping with me. I have this mental thing I have always done, where, I decide on my budget, and then keep a mental running tally in my head through the entire store. I am usually within ten dollars of the total, and, I get a weird satisfaction, keeping my totals below budget every week.
     Kaila was out babysitting, so, the other three children along, we went grocery shopping. I doubled my grocery bill, and, watched in amazement as things I had no idea were even in the cart suddenly appeared on the checkout conveyer belt. Joe, my normally quiet child began to speak to the cashier:


     "Do you see all the ingredients for tacos? I love tacos. I am the most Mexican person I know. I am very Mexican."


     "ummmmmm....." said the cashier.


     "I even look  Mexican. I have dark skin and I can speak some Spanish, and I am very Mexican." My tanned from the sun Joseph, continued.


     "I don't even know what to say." said the cashier, looking at me oddly.


     "The child is NOT Mexican. There isn't an ounce of Mexican in him." I announced. "Joe, You are not Mexican, for heaven's sake."


     "Yes. I am. I love Mexican food, and, I am pretty sure I am Mexican."


     "JOE! Seriously. You are. not. Mexican!" I said in exasperation,  "He really isn't Mexican." I tried to explain to the cashier.


     "I really have no words." she said.


     Way over budget, I dragged my kids, whatever nationality they identified with, out of the store, and took them home again.


     Where the texts from my babysitting kid began. Kaila was asked at the end of the last school year of she was going to get a summer job. She haughtily replied that she is "self employed." She is booked most weekends anymore, and frequently non-school weekdays, as well. The kids she babysits love her, and she has a good time with it.
     Apparently one of the kids she watched this past weekend announced that Kaila was going to die.


     "Like, tonight?" Kaila asked casually.


     "Yep." the child confirmed.


     "Okay. Let me make some calls, and alert my mother, so we can commence with it." she said, rolling off the trampoline they were bouncing on.


     "NO NO NO!!!!!" The child yelled in panic, "I was only kidding! Please don't die!"


     "Alright. I suppose we can put it off till another day." agreed Kaila.


And that, pretty much sums up my eldest. Probably some of the best text conversations I have ever had, have been with Kaila.


     Last week I thought I was having a heart attack. My heart started to beat really hard and really fast. It was so hard and fast, that I could not breathe. I sat at my desk at work, trying to catch my breath, and wondering if I could put off this possible heart attack until later, because I was completely swamped, and honest to goodness, the extra work that this could potentially cause was just not acceptable. And then, it stopped. It had beat so hard, that my chest hurt for hours after. I rolled my office chair back to my vitals machine, and grabbed a quick blood pressure and pulse. Both were fine, so, in relief, I went back to work.
     The next day, I had a doctor appointment anyway, so, I brought it up. "Oh! Sounds like you had a panic/anxiety attack!" she announced.


      "What? No. Not possible. I am the calmest person ever!" I hotly protested.


     "And, how is work?"


     "Oh wow. It's insane. But, I can handle it most days."


     "Uh huh. Better figure out how to distress. If you don't, you could start having panic/anxiety attacks frequently throughout the day. It can get bad."


Well. Fabulous. I am so disappointed in myself. I don't DO anxiety. I am calm! I am the person that the people with anxiety COME to! What the heck! Just last week, I ate my PB&J with the phone between my shoulder and ear during my entire lunch break, as a patient regaled me with one of the freakiest stories I have ever heard. Calm calm calm. Never batted an eye.
      So, anyhow, I have decided to try and de-stress. Not sure how to accomplish this, but, we'll give it a go. Suggestions are always welcome!


    

The Scent of Christmas. All Over Me

     Unless you live under a rock someplace, chances are, you have heard of Essential Oils. They are everywhere, and pretty much guaranteed to do everything except fold your laundry.
     I have several friends, co workers, and even a Sister In Law who are completely into Essential Oils and use them religiously. Using essential oils and the supplements that can be purchased with them, one of my brothers has lost something like 50 pounds in only a few months. (The part of me that walks religiously, works out, eats properly and has stalled at 30 pounds after 7.5 months wants to scream in frustration at this. It isn't fair.)
     Anyhow, I have been invited to more Essential Oil parties than I can count, and if you forget if you are talking to a DoTerra person vs a Young Living person, it could mean ruining someone's day if you mention the wrong company to the wrong person. Some time ago, I came into possession of three or four bottles of Essential Oils, and, though I had no idea what to do with them, I have kept them in the kitchen cupboard - mostly because the husky tried to eat them when they were on my desk - and there have sat. One of them was peppermint oil, which, I was told can help with headaches. I have had headache issues my entire life - along with pretty much every other person ever - and at this point, I just roll with them. Well. Along with the liver ruining Acetaminophen, and the stomach ruining Ibuprofen.
     A co worker and her daughter have been making sugar scrubs, and I have somehow become the test subject for them. Which has been amazing, and I am absolutely in love with these essential oil sugar scrubs. I could get this side of poetic about these scrubs. Yesterday, I was handed a candy cane sugar scrub to try out. It featured peppermint oil and was wonderful. I used it before bed. Using the peppermint sugar scrub, I remembered the peppermint essential oil in my cupboard and thought about my current headache, which is at two months and counting now. I took the peppermint oil up to bed, and, trying to recall the instructions from Mary, the friend who had demonstrated them to me months ago, I dabbed some on my forehead. And then between my eyes. Down the bridge of my nose. Behind the ears, on the back of my neck, beside my eyes, under my nose, around my eyes, and then remembered that, you shouldn't apply too close to your eyes because: burning sensation.
     My entire face aflame, from the liberal dousing of peppermint oil, I lay back and waiting for the migraine to stop. I couldn't open my eyes because, everything was still burning. I waited. I waited. I thought about Christmas and candy canes and mint gum. I realized I now smelled like Christmas and candy canes and mint gum.
     It has now been twelve hours and, my face continues to tingle, and my head still hurts. I am in love with the sugar scrubs, but, peppermint oil did not help my headache. I needed to mention this, because, my face continues to feel minty fresh and since it is on my mind, it needs to be written about. Because that's how these Blogs work. Still. In defense of the Essential Oils: I do love those sugar scrubs!


     We are on the other side of Labor Day. Most of the weekend was spent at home cleaning, but, we did head out to go see the Rushford NY Labor Day Grand Parade.
     We had never seen this parade before, so, I dragged the entire family out to go experience it. I was informed by George "Mom. You broke my heart. We were fishing, and just about to head to a better spot, when we had to leave so you could go to this parade. Broke. My. Heart!" anyhow, we found a spot in the blazing sun, and settled in to await the parade. Which started late, but seemed nice enough. Until it stopped. I mean. STOPPED Stopped. As in: no parade. No fire trucks, no horses, no marching bands, no Shriners in go carts - nothing. Where did the parade go? My kids began watching the biggest cricket we have ever seen, as it hopped around in the road where the parade should have been. Where on earth was the parade? After a very long time, made longer still by grouchy kids in the hot sun, we began to see that something was happening down the road.


     It. Was. A. Politician. Seriously. A politician HELD. UP. AN ENTIRE PARADE FOREVER, as he and his entourage made sure they spoke at length to every single person on the parade route, threw candy at every kid, and stopped short of  have lunch with people individually. Not only did THAT politician hold up the parade, but, TWO MORE politicians did the same thing. Which extended the parade by probably half an hour, as we waiting for artificially smiling politicians to make their way down the parade route. One even spent some time petting and cooing over a small dog that was with it's family right next to us.
    Anyone who was leisurely enjoying the parade without children was probably touched by the scrupulous attention to every person along the parade route. It was probably meaningful to some people, to see them out and having entire leisurely conversations about in depth topics. However. People with kids were not as excited about the individualized attention. I will probably still vote for them though, because I actually like the politicians that were in the parade. During that time, however, I seriously reconsidered my party affiliations.




     Speaking of kids.  I need to make a special Shout Out to Liam. Liam is this boy who lives down the street from us. He has a mop of  thick hair with curls on the tips, has amazing big eyes, and looks like a stock photo for an Alter Boy. He lives for all things Halloween/horror/scary, and recently attended "Zombie Con" with his Grandmother. After which He excitedly came bounding into the house to tell me he had gotten Jason Voorhees autograph at  Zombie Con. After a recent gruesome conversation, Kaila informed him he was creeping her out. I told her though, that Serial Killers historically don't tend to get their neighbors, so, we were probably safe, and Liam could keep coming over. Also, I like the kid. He's just an all around good kid - who likes Zombies. Anyhow, Liam came over recently, and informed me: "I read your Blog. Your kids told me about it, so I started reading it." I was absurdly pleased by this, but then he said "You didn't like my recorder concert??!!!!!" (Refer back to a semi recent post that chronicled the end of year school recorder concert.) YIKES! Apparently he told this to his mother in outrage, and she replied with "Honey. Nobody likes recorder concerts." I did tell poor Liam that I have never written anything derogatory about non recorder concerts, so, he should not hesitate to join band this year in school. He agreed to give it some thought. Anyhow, Liam, the kid that looks like a choir boy and thinks along the lines of all things undead, has asked for special mention here. And, since I genuinely love Liam, I thought it would be okay to mention him. Also, he offered to help with fall decorations, and, because of him and his brilliant ideas, my kitchen light is now decorated for fall. I did turn down the suggestion of hanging creepy things off my kitchen light - as, I am not partial to  images of dead things hanging over the area where I prepare food, but, otherwise, he did a good job. Since he is definitely one of my favorite neighbors, and an all around nifty kid,  I thought he deserved honorable mention here. (There, Liam! You are in my Blog now!)


     Pretty much, that's about it. Since this year would not be complete without me signing myself up for as many physical things to sign up for, which sound way nicer before signing up than they ever do at any "Start" line or date, I suppose I should mention where we are at, currently. In two days, we find out the official winner of the 1,000,000 step challenge. The Grandma and I both hit one million steps the same week. I had MORE steps total that week, but, we both hit it. I think there is also a prize for most steps overall, including extra steps awarded for doing workouts etc. Not sure who has actually won the contest(s) at this point. Nor are we sure what First Prize is, honestly.
     Also, I signed myself up to do "The Ridge Walk" in mid October. I have wanted to do it for some time now. I signed myself up for a 9 mile walk, and, my sister in law said she would do it, too. It gets me out of teaching Sunday School, which is about the only perk at this point. I read the description of the walk that was included with my confirmation of sign up email. It is the most difficult of all the hikes, and, is for experienced walkers/hikers only. If we are not at a certain point of the walk by a certain time, we get the "Bus ride of shame" as I have started calling it, back to the start up line.
    
     Not sure why I continue to do this to myself, but, at the very least, it will be entertaining, right?