And to All a Good Night!

     Last night, we finally had the time to do a non-rushed Christmas activity. We took the kids driving around to see Christmas lights. I had heard of a place not too far away that had a home set up with lights that danced along to music played to their own Christmas station, so, we headed that way.


     "Dad! Drive faster!" urged George on the way there


     "Are you paying for the speeding ticket I will get?"


     "Sure! I will take Mom's credit card, buy the cops chocolate and tell them 'there ya go.' and we can get away with no ticket."


     Anyhow. We went and saw lights. Which was the only non rushed thing we have been able to do for the last month. We are all looking forward to Christmas break, I think!


     For the past 2+ months, Kaila has had nightly play practice at the school. Compounded by the addition of weekends over the last month. It was amazing, the sacrifices that all the kids in the play made, to pull off a huge production the weekend before Christmas. I think most of them are still recovering from the grueling schedule.
     The play ran Friday and Saturday nights this past weekend. We ran around like mad before the play both days, trying to cram in last minute shopping and groceries and odds and ends that needed to be done.
     Sunday was our Sunday School class's Christmas party, followed by Kaila's Confirmation at one of our sister churches. (Our priest runs 3 churches in the area.)


     Confirmation was attended by:


The Bishop


A Monsignior


4 priests


5 Alter Boys


The Knights of Columbus


A bunch of guys wearing sashes


A Legislator


A photographer.


The photographer gets honorable mention here, because he was absolutely the worst distraction ever, He had a huge camera that had the longest lens I have ever seen. This camera made So. Much. Noise. The photographer bounded all over the church, running up and down the aisles, crossing back and forth in front of the alter, standing in front of the Bishop at the alter, and generally being a nuisance.
This was followed by family of most of  the Confirmants hopping on the photo - op bus, who also began to run around the church, cell phones and cameras in hand. Honestly, I couldn't believe it. Had my strict Catholic mother been in attendance, I could have absolutely pictured a severe dressing down to all involved.
     People cut into the Confirmation lines, to take pictures. People would get into the Communion line just so they could take pictures of their kid getting communion. There were people bounding all over the place.
     Anyhow. It was a beautiful Mass, in a beautiful, recently restored church, and, at the end of the day, Kaila was Confirmed. I did NOT take any pictures during Mass, because, even though I am  nearing 40 years old, my mother scares the daylights out of me, and I know she would have found out and I would have been spoken to, at the very least.


     This week also was the School Christmas Concert. A lot of the kids that were in the school concert were still recovering from the school play. Looking at some of them, you could tell they were just tired. Today, thankfully is a half day of school, and Christmas break starts at 11:30 today! Pretty sure the band and chorus teachers are more than ready, also!


     A few years ago, I despaired of my kids really "getting" Christmas. I think I even mentioned it in a blog.
     Then, Joe decided very independently, that he wanted to do something good, and proceeded to save up a mason jar full of change and donate it to the local food bank.
     It sparked something good. So, we've made it a family tradition. This is the third year running, and, I think the kids deserve mention here, because, I am so so very proud of them.


     This year, we decided to save for a local homeless shelter for women and children. It's located near where I work, and largely unnoticed. It's a beautiful Victorian home, and it's run by a local Nun, I believe.
     My kids collected change, cans and bottles and coats for their cause. We spend a few evenings gathered around the kitchen table rolling change, and George's Cub Scout pack spent a meeting night walking around town collecting cans and bottles to return, to add to the cause.


     All told, we were able to  donate nearly $200., a turkey, and a large bag full of winter coats. The kids came to visit me at work the other day, and we all drove over to the shelter to deliver everything.
     It was an amazing and humbling experience, and I am so glad we were able to have it. We were given a tour of the shelter, and everything was enthusiastically explained by Sister Melissa, the Nun who runs it. I think it really put things into perspective for my kids, and I think they all took something good away from the experience.


     So now, we are only a few days before Christmas. My kids, I think, appreciate a little more, what they have. I took the day off tomorrow, and we plan to spend tonight and tomorrow baking and delivering cookies, and wrapping up the last minute gifts.
     Christmas will probably be spent at home and in our jammies, I imagine.


     This isn't the longest or the most humorous Blog, but, it pretty much sums up our insanely crazy life around here lately!


Merry Christmas and may the New Year be the best yet!

Popcorn has WHAT??

     Normally, I write these Blogs during scattered breaks at work. However, my blog specifically, has recently been blocked. No other blogs, just mine. Everyone's a critic, I suppose. So, I bought myself a Notebook. I am now on my fifth attempt at writing this while using a tiny purple keyboard. It has self-deleted four times now. I will give it one more try, I suppose.

     Thanksgiving was hosted at our house this year. The highlight of which was George. During dinner, he slipped away from the table, and dug out a recent school project I hadn't seen. It was a folded piece of construction paper with a piece of popcorn he had colored and glued to one side, and on the other side, the following was glued: "The Native Americans believed that a little demon lived in each kernel and when he got hot... He would burst!" Upon opening the card, there was a little black demon with blood pouring out of it's mouth, that George had drawn.
   George read it out loud, before passing it around the table to my slightly horrified and slightly amused Catholic family. "Brianna," I said to my sister, handing her my glass, "I will be needing you to fill this with wine." I have no idea why that, of all traditions, was chosen for a First
 Grade school project. Nor do I know why George chose that one, out of the many many things he does at school, to pass around the Thanksgiving dinner table. I DO know, however, that I will probably never look at popcorn the same way again.

     This holiday season is probably one of the busiest in recent memory. Because of the projected crazy schedules, the Christmas decorating was done earlier than usual this year. with the exception of the tree. (We will get that next weekend.)
     The decorating pretty much ruined the resident teenager's entire life. Dramatic texts were sent to her friends, bemoaning the travesty of decorations before Thanksgiving. She survived the trauma of tinsel, however, and seems to like them now.

     Thank goodness for Lexi. She has been my right hand though the decorating, baking and planning. If we didn't have Lexi, the Christmas lights would probably never get turned on, truthfully.

     With the business of the season, I decided to take a day off in December, to get things done. Bearded Man informed me he might be laid off for the season, and maybe he could stay home and do Christmas stuff, too. I told him he is going to work regardless if he is laid off or not. Half the day will be spent reveling in the thrill of being alone.

    Once again the tradition of approximately four million sugar cookies happened the weekend before Thanksgiving. This year it included my kids, my sister and her kids, and three neighbor kids took part in the craziness that is Sugar Cookie Day. We are still sweeping sprinkles from every crevice of the house. Every year my sister and I get all excited about Sugar Cookie Day. Half way through, we wonder why we visit this insanity on ourselves every year. The kids love it though!
    
     Okay. I don't think I can top George's Thanksgiving story. I am also found that trying to type and concentrate with children running about is this side of impossible... Hopefully me and my purple notebook with tiny keyboard will bond soon!

Jesus Would Not be Locked in my Basement.

     Last night, Kaila informed me that she probably will never have kids. This wasn't news, because, although she is a hugely popular babysitter and little kids follow her around adoringly wherever she goes, she has pretty much always said she will never have kids. The future Grandmother in me can barely deal with this news.
     Anyhow, her current reasoning is that the world seems to be a pretty bad place. And there seems to be a lot of  terrible people. She informed me that she didn't think she could bring kids into a place where people were just so awful.
     I pointed out that historically, there has always been  bad people roaming the Earth. I told her "Look at Jesus! The Good Lord sends His kid down to us. A guy who can change WATER into WINE! And what did we do? We killed him, Kaila. I don't know why He even bothers with us anymore."
     "Water into wine. Well. If He were alive today, I am pretty sure you would lock Him in the basement and demand Captain Morgan regularly."


     And that, my friends, is probably why I am going to hell this week.


     Since the Psychic adventure last month, life has been predictably busy. School is back in full swing. We have been able to deal with the many many many many many many many fund raisers without re-mortgaging the house. School pictures have been taken and sent home. It was noticed that the exact same packages cost more in the Elementary School than they did in the Middle High School. I was slightly aggravated until I listened to Joe. "Mom. I need you to pay extra for the fire back round."
     "What? They have a fire back round?"


     "Yes. I need that one." Careful examination showed that it was a back round with autumn trees in full color.


     "Joe. It's trees. Why did you want a fire back round?"


     "Because, I am going to wear my Scout shirt, and pose looking into the distance with my head turned to the left, while doing the Scout Salute. The fire back round would be perfect!"


     "I will pay extra for whatever back round you want, if you can pull that off, Joe." I said, laughing harder than I had in awhile. We settled on the American Flag as a back drop for the Boy Scout, and off to school he went.
     Later that day, Joe announced in outrage that he was forbidden to salute, and forbidden to look off into the distance. Apparently it was a  bit of a go - round between Joe and the photographer. And just like that, I understood the hike in costs between younger kids vs older kids.




     Halloween has also come and gone. On Halloween, I received a call at work that Joe was sick and needed to be picked up. I picked him up after I finished with a patient I had just gotten into my office when the call came in, and, as instructed, called the school nurse when I arrived at the school. "You may as well just call me directly when you get here." she had said "The school is like Fort Knox these days, and you won't be able to get in."
     Upon calling the nurse, she informs me "No school for Joe tomorrow. I told him that since he has vomited, he can't come for 24 hours after the last time he throws up, and that I would tell you that when you came. He looked at me and told me not to bother. That his mother was a nurse and had been through this before probably with at least two of the other kids. I laughed so hard! He says it in just such a way! I can't even explain it. He sounds like a grown up."
  
     "Sounds like my kid! Send him on out." I responded. So, for Halloween, Joe wasn't able to go trick or treating. A thing he really didn't seem to care much about in the first place, so, it worked out.


     Also this month, the transmission in Bearded Man's truck fell apart all over the road while he was hauling the Boy Scout trailer back from a weekend camping trip. I received the call shortly after I had walked thru the front door after getting very sick on a 9 mile hike, and getting hauled off the trail in an ambulance. Looking longingly at the stairs that led to my bed, I turned around to go rescue the Scouts.
     The transmission was covered by warranty, and a local garage was able to do the work, so it wasn't that big of an issue. Only in small towns, does the owner of a local business greet you in the parking lot with a beer in his hand. Anywhere else, it would have been startling, but, things tend to roll that way in our little town.


     Parent teacher conferences are fast approaching. George seems concerned about this. I was advised by the resident First Grader, that I should probably skip it altogether, because it probably wasn't going to be a good report. Poor George. He really is such a good kid! His teacher has assured me that I have nothing to be concerned about. This seemed to relieve the child greatly. As I type this, I wonder how he is doing on his spelling test. Trying to pin that child down in the evening for spelling practice or reading time, is this side of impossible. There seems to be a constant stream of kids at the front door, asking for George to come out and play. Just recently I had to replace his brand new sneakers. He had worn right through them in less than one month. He is now sporting heavy duty shoes. That need to be put on the boot dryer nearly every single day after he is finished splashing in every single puddle he can find.
     He has also perfected a cry that is so realistic that it's hard to tell when he is faking and when he is genuine. My mother had told me she was going to stop by last weekend to drop off cider and donuts for the kids for Halloween. George was all about this, and could barely wait for Grandma to show up. Apparently he was tired of waiting, because, while I was putting laundry away, he used my phone to call her, and left the most heartbreakingly weepy "I miss you, and when are you coming, and I really need to see you, and please hurry!" sobbing message on her voice mail. Upon hanging up, he announced brightly "I got her voice mail guys! Should I try again?"
     My mother didn't listen to the message until after her visit, and called me "Moriah! I just listened to George's voice mail! I had no idea! Does he need to come visit? He sounds so heartbroken!" listening for some time, to my mother, I finally broke in and told her she had just been played by my six year old.


     One last note: Holidays are approaching. Lexi and I seem to be the most excited about this. I am so thankful I have at least one child who seems to be in to the holidays along with me this year. Historically, my kids really don't seem to care one way or another. Bearded Man blames my year round twinkle lights. He told me once that the kids aren't excited about Christmas lights or decorations, because there are always lights and decorations up. It's just another decked out season in our house.
     Completely unrelated, I told him to please sleep on the couch Christmas Eve, because I have a busy day planned for Christmas Day, and don't need to be disturbed by all the ghosts that are sure to be paying him a visit this year.
     Anyhow, Lexi and I are all about the Holidays this year. Kaila, is not. So, to assist in the Christmas Spirit, I made sure to load the CD player in my van with  Christmas CD's to greet her with when I picked her up from school the other day. Lexi has also taken to playing Christmas music. Also: Hallmark Chanel Christmas movies. "Seriously. The acting and the set for this movie is so terrible. The obviously had a budget of three dollars and fifty cents and the help of their parents." was Kaila's review of the first one. Possibly the ghosts will visit her, too.


    

Dinner and a Show

     Bearded Man and I went out to dinner sort of last minute last night. Our 18th Anniversary was Monday, and, with his crazy work schedule this past weekend, he was too tired to really do much more than grab a shower, eat the dinner I made, and go to sleep.


     It was a last minute decision to go out. Half the neighborhood seemed to be at our house, playing in leaves, and, Kaila has been turning the braver ones into various creepy things with special effects makeup. There were monsters all over the place. Kaila herself was rocking a particularly gruesome partial burn/half dead face look that was startling all sorts of passers by. The more she experiments, the more realistic it looks. As a matter of fact, I am nearly positive that I will receive a phone call tomorrow from school, demanding that I remove her from the premises immediately. She has every intention of showing up with her "half dead burned face look" to "character day" at school tomorrow. I did ask that she make sure it's okay, but, she seems to think it won't be a problem. I also inquired who her character is, exactly? She doesn't really know yet. She WAS going to be a burned up Disney Princess, but, Lexi has already laid claim to the Cinderella dress. Anyhow. I don't think it will be terribly well received at school. Before we get all judgy, I should mention that Kaila herself is not a gruesome kid. She just likes to experiment with different makeup effects. I am actually amazed at the talent I am seeing, and wondering how one launches that into any sort of career?
     One of the most excited for the creepy effects face jobs, is Liam, the neighbor kid. He tries so hard to be "bad". He is honestly too cute and too decent to be a "bad" kid. Also, I pointed out that his love of all things undead is really never going to go anywhere particularly terrible, because of his fear of all things bugs. Those things tend to be a package deal. Also, I had the nerve to draw an angel in his notebook full of different ideas to kill zombies. Effectively "ruining a perfectly good book full of all my bad stuff!!!!!!"


     Anyhow. We left the lead creepy kid makeup artist in charge, and went to a last minute spur of the moment anniversary dinner.
     Being a Tuesday evening, the restaurant we decided to go to was not very busy, and we were seated immediately. There was no one else in our little dinning room, but we did vaguely notice a table with some people in the dinning area next to ours.
     After we ordered dinner, and my wine was delivered, we were chatting about general things when I stopped talking and said "What am I hearing???"
     Somehow, the conversation from the nearby dining table had made it's way into whatever we were talking about, and I said, "I think someone's mother just passed away. I think that's what they are talking about? It sounds like whoever is talking is pretty traumatized by it." We agreed that was sad, and maybe they were planning a funeral service or something, and started talking again. "WAIT! Did you hear that??" I said, as we both stopped mid conversation again. "I think maybe that lady is having a psychic reading?" said Bearded Man.
     Conversation stopped completely, as the entire thing carried over to us. We were unable to help ourselves, as we listened in fascination.


     We listened unabashedly to the psychics (There were two) tell the woman that, if she really believed, and she really tried, she should make a point of asking her mother to visit her in three days, and then get up at 4am and her mother would be in the kitchen, for a visit. She would be wearing a striped dress, and her hair would be beautiful, because she had gone to heaven, and the angels had given her a new hair-do.
     We listened to the psychics tell her that she shouldn't sell her mother's house for two years.


     We listened to the psychics tell a man that he was not progressing at the age of 60, as he should, because his angel belonged to a 56 year old, and the reason his angel was more human like than angel like, was because he was behind, and he really needed to start progressing.


      Another woman was told she had magical powers, and really needed to tap into them.


     At one point, we were started to hear the female psychic scream "OH MY!!! DO YOU SEE IT????!!!!!" to the male psychic, at which he exclaimed "I DO! I DO SEE IT!!!!" "YES! YES! IT'S HER GAURDIAN ANGEL!!!!" "RIGHT BEHIND HER LEFT SHOULDER!!!!!!!" "She is kind of short, don't you think?" "Right. I am not sure why she has a short angel, but, she is very kind...."


     One of the psychics told another man: "I see someone. They are riding one of those things. You  know. One of those things.... those things people ride.....? One of those, oh, what do you call them...?"
     "Four wheeler?" The man supplied eagerly
     "YES! Yes, that's IT! It's a four wheeler! I see someone riding a four wheeler!"
     "Oh! yes, that would be so and so!"


     We couldn't even speak. The psychics were all we could hear. For over an hour, we listened to the psychics speak to various people. There was no point in even trying to talk to each other, because we could not stop hearing the psychics. One older woman was terribly excited to hear that there would be a 30 something year old man in her life in the very near future. I snorted my wine at that point.
    
     During dinner, Jasin left to use the restroom. While he was away, suddenly a group of people entered the dining room, as they took a tour of the restaurant. They exclaimed over the low wooden ceilings. They investigated all the antiques on display, they discussed how this dining room led to that dining room, and stood next to our table, talking at length about how charming the room was. They had just walked out, when Jasin walked in. "Jasin!" I whispered, "You missed the tour!!!!!" "The what?" "The tour!!!!!" "There was a tour?" "Yep!"


     Anyhow. It was probably the most entertaining Anniversary dinner we have ever had. We also found out that that particular restaurant has "Psychic Night" every other Tuesday.


    Listen. I know that there are lots of people that enjoy seeing psychics. I actually know a guy from my bartending days, who would go see a psychic and write everything she said down, and then come to the bar to discuss it at length over a few beers. A lot of people are really into it.
     My good Catholic Mother, however, terrifies me. If she ever found out I had even contemplated seeing a psychic, I am pretty sure she would supersede the Good Lord Himself, and just send me to hell immediately. This was honestly my first experience with psychics. This post is not poking fun at people who DO see them, but, my insane experience of getting seated near a few of them  during dinner...
 One time, a cook at a restaurant I worked at while pregnant with Lexi, tried to do a Tarot card reading for me. It was SO terrible, that she decided to stop reading Tarot cards on the spot and told me to just try and stay safe.


     While I am mentioning the craziness of yesterday, I should also mention that the resident nerdling in my house is OUTRAGED. We received mid-semester reports in the mail yesterday. Joe looked up from his book (that he paced the house for three days while the library was closed over the holiday, to his never ending aggravation and had just picked up on his way home from school) and asked how his report looked. I told him that, according to his report, he was reading at a level "Z" (7th-8th grade level.) Joe was beside himself. "This is not acceptable! In fourth grade, I was reading at a Z+! ADULT LEVEL!!!!! How am I now a lower level reader? This is inaccurate! This is not correct! This needs to be changed. All I DO is read! How could they even think this??!!!!"
     "Joe. Maybe you should take this up with your teacher?" (The poor woman. Not sure if he will remember it today, but, if he does decide to take it up, it's all she will hear about until this is resolved to his satisfaction...)


     That, in a nutshell, is our crazy lives lately. Till next time!
    

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?


    


    


    

An Hour in the Brain of a Very Not So Perfect Mama

     Yesterday after work, I unenthusiastically schlepped across the street to the local mall, with the seats of my van folded down, to go get the new dryer.


     I accidently parked at an entrance that I thought was close to the Sears store, but, in fact, was not. I then walked past a man of indiscernible age, sitting next to the entrance, looking homeless, and completely uninterested in the fact that someone was standing within 2 feet of him, and, in my tired and hyper overdrive state, walked right past him. Through the entire tired trek through the mall (Seriously, it wasn't much of a trek. It's a small mall.) I felt the absolute guilt building up. Guilt all over the place. What if the man was homeless? What if he was sick? What if he was on drugs? What if he needed help?  What kind of person was I, that I hadn't even stopped to talk to him?? I stumbled past a security guard that looked about 15 years old and tried not to look thuggish, as I worried about that man outside. (I have a security guard phobia. I have been followed by security through Wal Mart THREE ADDITIONAL TIMES since the Christmas shopping debacle of last December. I must look shady.) I was thinking about this and about the time, as, I had precisely 45 minutes to pick up the dryer, get it loaded into the van, do the 25 minute drive home, and get Lexi to the High School for 7th Grade Orientation. Also, I was starving, and had nothing appropriate to wear to the school, which brings us back to the dryer - and the piles of laundry sitting in front of the broken dryer at home.  In that pile would be Mom appropriate clothes. Which brought me to "perfect mom". She is this woman who intimidates the daylights out of me. She is always perfect. Her hair, her clothes, her accessories, her figure, her life. I feel inadequate every single time I am near her. Perfect mom was going to also be at the 7th grade orientation. Perfect  Mom would never be this harried, this stressed, I just KNEW she would have the perfect clothes on,  and perfect mom is also a good Christian woman, who absolutely would have stopped and helped out the (possibly) homeless man on her way into the mall. Seriously. This woman intimidates the daylights out of me. I have a hard time even forming words to talk to her, because I am pretty sure I will sound like an idiot if I make the attempt. I will never ever be Perfect Mom.


      Upon entrance to Sears, I am besieged by three sales associates, all wanting to help. I tell them I am here for a pick up, and two of them disappear, leaving me with one I am familiar with. He is the sweetest, nicest older gentleman ever.
     He also is completely unable to ever work the computers.


     My mind was currently at:

• You are going to HELL! If that man outside was a test, you just FAILED!
• I am going to be so so so late and Lexi is going to be so so so upset!
• What if the dryer doesn't fit? In the van or into the laundry room?
• I honest to goodness have nothing decent to wear to this thing!
• What is the weather outside, anyhow? How did I not notice what the weather was???
• Why is the Security Guard in here - again?!
• Seriously. Am I old, or, do they hire middle school kids for these security things?
• I am really sick of Turkey soup. Seriously. Sick of it.
• OMG. I NEED to get out of here! I am going to be so late!
• I think I am in Sears enough, I could probably help this guy figure the computer out.
• Did he really just snicker over my last name? Well. Everybody does, honestly.
• What if the guy sitting outside really needed someone to stop and ask if he was okay?
• Okay. If I can get on the road in the next five minutes, and everyone does speed limit, and I don't get stuck behind someone doing the traditional 27 mph all the way home, I can make it in time.
• We are going to have to walk to the school - the dryer is in the van. The van needs to stay home.
• OMG. If I am late, Lexi will be in tears.
• Seriously, just give me the darn dryer!!!!!!!
• I really cannot afford this stupid thing.

Anyhow. I eventually got clearance to bring my vehicle to the back entrance to Sears, and pick up the appliance I really did not want to have to buy in the first place. Back through the mall, and down the hallway to the entrance I had parked near. I opened the door, and found the man still alive and sitting there. I stopped.


     "Are you okay?"


     "Yeah. Why?"


     "I just wanted to make sure. Is there anything I can do for you? Or, are you just hanging out?"


     "Nah, I'm all good lady. Thanks for asking."


     "Are you sure?"


     "Yeah. I'm sure."


     "Okay. Well. Have a good night."


     "Thanks."


Not sure if that was helpful to anyone. I still felt like I could have done more for him. Anyhow. On to the loading dock. The dryer was loaded in short order, with plenty of comments that this was a heavier than usual dryer "Oh! She ordered the BIG one!" along the way. My brain was still in hyper gear, and my body was not. Thus the following took place:


     "Okay, you're all set! Thanks for shopping with us again!"


     "You guy are great! When the next appliance dies, You come see me!"


Black stares


     "Oh. My. Goodness. I MEANT I will come see me!"


Blank stares


     "You. I mean. You know. Ummm. Hope this doesn't die?"


 Blank stares


     "You're all great! Thanks!"


And I dove into my van and left in short order.


     I decided on a super fast stop to Burger King. Just a small milkshake and fries. I couldn't remember the last time I had either. Or stopped at a fast food place. I placed my order, and promptly forgot what kind of shake I had ordered. What the hell? Seriously? I should have just gone home. I didn't have time for this anyhow.


     "HEY! MORIAH! Is that YOU?" Came a shout. My old next door neighbor happened to be standing near the drive thru. We commiserated about how much we both still disliked his ex wife, I admired pictures of his new sports car, bought in celebration of no longer having to pay alimony, and, discovered I had ordered a strawberry shake. Which is what I wanted, so, that was good.


     I made it home with ten minutes to spare, and decided that the clothing dilemma was solved, because I did not have time to change, anyhow. So, wearing my black scrubs, I trotted Lexi  down the road to the school.
     Where I discovered that  the weather was hot and sunny. And the school was warm and muggy. And Perfect Mom looked perfect. I did not. I had my old glasses that did not want to stay attached to my face, balanced on my nose, (If you recall, my good glasses are someplace at the bottom of Black Lake.)  my hair was just awful, I was wearing hot black scrubs, and, considering that less than an hour ago, I could barely form a coherent thought or sentence, I decided that this was probably not the day to try and strike up a conversation with her.


     Lexi, however, was a treat. She excitedly greeted every person she knew with a compliment. She had something nice to say to everyone. She introduced herself to all her new teachers, she had dressed up and accessorized for the occasion, and, was generally determined to say something nice to absolutely everyone, so that no one would feel awkward. She insisted upon being the kindest person she could be. I was so proud of her!


     Anyhow. When all was said and done, the dryer was installed. The laundry was begun. The first load went into the dryer, and the array of buttons was perused, and the dryer was started. In "Energy Star" mode. Which, I discovered, takes approximately 40 days and 40 nights to actually dry a load of laundry. You can be an energy star, or, you can dry your laundry before the kids outgrow it. I don't know if you can have both. Mostly, I was too tired to decide last night.


     And, there you have, an hour in the brain of a very not so perfect mama. Give or take a few minutes or so....


    

Veggies All Over the Darn Place

     I have a very rare break at the craziness of my job, so, decided to do a quick update. I do this, over tea and zucchini bread. Mostly because, it is probably the only opportunity to drink tea and eat zucchini bread that I will have. Follow along:


     This past weekend, we had no obligations. Nobody needed to be carted/hauled/present/taken/obligated to be anywhere for anything. Well, except Kaila, who had to babysit all weekend, but, all her babysitting jobs were within walking distance. So, I decided to get caught  up on stuff. I made a full turkey dinner. Mowed the lawn, cleaned out the van, cleaned the house, weeded my gardens (YAY! First year pretty much EVER that I have kept my gardens up this long! Progress!) ordered a new dryer, grocery shopped, and, cooked.
     By "cooked" I mean, I cooked everything. I turned the turkey carcass into stock, and the stock into turkey veggie rice soup, the kids helped eat most of the sugar cookie dough make sugar cookies, I turned a monster zucchini into four loaves of zucchini walnut bread, I made a broccoli salad from a recipe I saw on Facebook. I cooked and I cooked and I cooked. There were no veggies that were safe, in my kitchen. Veggies all over the darn place. Actually, when the kids were helping to cart in groceries, one of them inquired if we were having a party, as, there was an awful lot of vegetables in those grocery bags...
     Anyhow. After a solid eight hours of cooking yesterday, dinner time rolled around. The refrigerator (AKA, The only appliance I own that hasn't had to be replaced since I bought it 6 years ago.) was full of all this veggie goodness, the soup was simmering in an enormous  stock pot on the stove, and the kids were hungry. As were all seven of the various neighbor kids that seem to live at my house these days. The extras were sent home, and my own kids filed in for dinner. "What's for dinner?" they inquired.


     "What do you mean, what's for dinner? I just spent all day cooking it! We have soup! We have broccoli salad! Bearded Man smoked ribs out on his smoker! And, after dinner, there are cookies and zucchini bread!"


     "But. We don't LIKE soup. Or broccoli. Can we just have PB&J, or cereal or something?"


     "There are approximately four thousand servings of soup in that pot! Eat soup!!!"


     "You should probably freeze it. You will have soup for your work lunches!" They informed me.


Lexi tried some soup. That was about it. I now have a refrigerator full of all things veggie, and, no one to eat them. Except the zucchini bread. They will be all over that. Thus, the rare break at work, in which I incorporated zucchini bread and tea, as, the scavengers at home will likely eat most of it before I have a chance at it.


     It's hard to believe, but, the Second Annual Dick Family Trip to Black Lake has come and gone already. It's this weird little time warp, in which, once you are gone, you can barely believe it happened, and it's a nice memory, but, once you are there, it seems like you never really left, and everything is exactly the same as it was (yesterday) when you were here last. This year, more notice was taken of the campers next door to us. They just so happen to have two boys that just so happen to be the same ages as our two girls. All I have to say about that, is, a "One foot apart at all times" rule was instated fairly early in the week.
     Some high lights of the trip included : Water Tubing! Both of my boys loved it, both of my girls hated it. And, nobody could go fast enough for George. We discovered Lexi can scream loudly enough that she can be heard clear across the lake, during her (only) attempt at tubing.
  
     A near death experience out on the lake one day, when three of us families went out, it turns out, ahead of a storm. Boats were stuck, my glasses were lost, one boat broke down, and waves were crashing over our wildly tossing boat. Everyone and everything ended up okay in the long run, but, it was a pretty intense hour or so...


     Crazy heat. Every day was nearly unbearable, as everyone wilted under high temps. So, most afternoons were spent in the water.


     Fishing. There was a lot of fishing, and threats aimed at Bearded Man, regarding his alarm going off every. single. day. of. our. vacation. The only day it did not go off; the last day of vacation. However,  his boss called him early, asking him to come in. So, out of the nine days off I had: Not one of them was spent sleeping in. But, I suppose lots of fish were caught, so, there is that.


     George has been offered a job working at the camp ground the summer he turns 16. Just like at home, we couldn't keep him from his wanders to visit people. One morning, after searching the entire campground for him to no avail, I finally decided he was probably visiting again. Sure enough. He was having coffee with the Grandparents of two kids across the way from our cabin, as the grandkids slept. They were so charmed by George, that, he was promptly invited for breakfast, where, they made him pancakes and bacon. He made his rounds, not unlike at home, and already has a job lined up in ten years. Because: George. That's why.


     It was just a nice week. The same people come every year, so, it's sort of becoming a reunion at this point. The kids love it, and, we are already re-booked for next year.




     On to the appliances. 6.5 years ago, shortly after I had George, as nursing school graduation was fast approaching, and the washer was on it's last legs, and the refrigerator was ridiculously small, I decided we should go buy new appliances. There was an income tax credit for anyone who switched to Energy Star appliances that year, as well as some incredible rebates. I managed to score a new washer, dryer, dishwasher and refrigerator for an incredible price, after all the rebates and tax credits were accounted for. I was absolutely smugly proud of my brains and savings at the time. And, all this was purchased with all four of the children - including a weeks old George in tow, in February, thru the snow, and with less than enthusiastic sales associates at Lowes. The delivery people were even worse than the sales associates, and all clearly hated their jobs. Also, somehow my refrigerator was lost in transit, and we waited forever for it. But, I saved lots of money, right?


     Within 1 year and 2 months, (two months after the warranty ran out), the dishwasher was dead.


     After 5 years of constant fighting with it, the washer died.


     It made it to 6.5 years, but, now the dryer is dead, too. I pick up the new one tomorrow after work.
I was hoping to just fix it (again), but, the Bearded Repair Man has announced it is irreparable. So, in full house/van cleaning regalia, including my hair up in a brightly colored handkerchief and sticking out in a million different directions, I grudgingly hopped into the van to go get a new dryer. The clothing situation is dire, currently. I don't have time to mess with this anymore.
     To their credit, the Sears sales associates are a lot nicer than the Lowes people were. Since we seem to be becoming regular customers and all that... even WITH the insane clothes and hair-do, they were very nice. I asked them to show me a large capacity dryer. There were precisely two of them available. One of which happened to be the match to my washer. I have found that, to have large capacity, to accommodate large families, one must also have a paycheck of large capacities. Because those appliances are way more expensive than the reasonably priced appliances for smaller needs. (By the way. I do not currently possess large capacity paychecks...)  So, tomorrow, I will put all the seats in the minivan down, and haul another appliance home. As much as I was anti mini van in the beginning, I have to say, it has proven invaluable since I have owned it. There. I admitted it. I kind of like the van.


     Till next time! 


    

Busy Days Update

     "You people in Western New York are never happy unless the temperature is 75 degrees. No higher, no lower!" A patient that normally resides in Florida informed me last week.
     I don't think he is too far off the mark, either.


     That being said, it's been hotter than we are used to around here lately. Our lawns are burned brown, our flowers are wilted, the fields and farmers are all in despair. Water levels are low, creeks are dried up, and everyone pretty much talks constantly about how worrisome this has become. A week of constant steady rain would not be unwelcome.


     Due to the temps, I have taken the kids to the local town pool as often as I have been able lately. Saturday afternoon, after a morning of inflicting the child abuse/slave labor of blueberry picking onto my children, I took the boys swimming. The girls had other things to do. We no sooner arrived at the pool, when George began to beg.


     "Mama? Can I swim in the deep end?"


     "No. I don't think so. I just don't know if you're ready..."


     "I do it at the school pool, when Kaila takes us, and I can swim to the bottom of the deep end there!"


     "I know. But, I just worry you are going to push too hard and then drown because you have zero fear."


     "Mama. Watch." And with that, he hoisted himself out of the shallow end, marched over to the deep end and jumped right in while I tried not to shriek. The lifeguards merely looked bored. George then proceeded to swim across the pool back and forth, and then swim down to the bottom.


     "Okay. Fine. You can swim in the deep end."


     On Sunday, I took the entire family to the pool, after a morning of more child abuse/slave labor of house work and grocery shopping. George jumped into the deep end, but, after about two minutes was not happy with just swimming in the deep end. Joe has been working on perfecting a deep dive and a shallow dive, to earn Scout badges. Lexi, who is half mermaid, loves to dive for the sheer joy of it. My niece and nephew were there, both diving as well.
     After a few cannon balls and running jumps into the pool, George began to watch the older kids carefully. Lexi gave him a few tips, and, within five minutes, George was diving just as well as the rest of them. There was absolutely no practice, no hesitation, no teaching - he just dove right in.


     This is not unlike when he learned to ride a bike when he was 3, and was jumping ramps by the end of the first day on two wheels.


     After I took the boys swimming on Saturday, everyone pretty much had things to do, except Joe and I. So, I decided to take Joe to a local county fair that I had never gone to before. We arrived to the fair in no time, and paid to get in.


     "Joe! The demolition derby is tonight! Do you want to go take a look?"


     "No. That is very dangerous."


     "Well, I suppose it is a little dangerous for the drivers, but, we can just look for a few minutes?"


     "No. It makes me very uncomfortable."


     "Well, let's see what else is here. Do you want to ride the rides?"

     "No, I don't think so."


     "There's bumper cars..."


     "Okay. We can do bumper cars." he agreed. So, he did the bumper cars. And the slide. And that's about it.


     "No rides, Joe?"


     "Mom. I am a boy going thru puberty. My body is confused enough, without throwing it up into the air and spinning it around at high speeds. I am not going on any rides."


     "Okay. You make an interesting observation. Better safe than sorry."


     Joe wasn't interested in the out buildings, or the animals, or the displays. The more we walked, the closer we came to the demolition derby.


     "Mom! What are they using? Monster Trucks? What kind of vehicles do they do these things with?"


     "Just regular old cars that are pretty much junk, but somebody was able to make them run enough to do this. The participants know they are all headed to the junk yard after getting all beat up at this derby."


     "Why are they so loud?"


     "I don't think mufflers are a priority. Or even used. Come on, let's go over and just take a peak!"


     "This is not safe. I am not comfortable with this."


     "Joe! It's fine, come look."


     "Mom! Look at this! These walls are not very thick! Or high! At any point, a car could come through the walls. Or over the walls. Anybody could die or get hurt. And what is the point of going really fast in a car to deliberately smash into other people? Did you know if you do that on the outside, people go to jail, or the get hurt and go to the  hospital, or go to court??? Why would anybody think this is a good idea?! Just LOOK at these walls! Mom. Look. The stands are really close to the track. What if parts go flying into the crowd? This is not responsible. This is unsafe."


     Wouldn't you know it. At that very moment, the entire thing was paused, because they had to get Emergency Personnel involved because of some emergency. I couldn't tell if the emergency was in the stands, or on the track, because Joe had just seen his entire argument confirmed, and refused to watch any longer. This is what happens when you take a very literal and very smart and very serious and very articulate boy to the fair.
     Joe did have a good time though. Because Joe LOVES Fair food. He ate pretty much everything.


      Honestly, I love looking at the world through his perspective, and I love conversations with him. It can be serious theories about space or weather, or, it can be a full blown argument over super heroes. It's never dull. We have surpassed myself googling things for him, to, just handing him my phone to look things up. (The iPad has been hidden away indefinitely. The kids would sit with it all day and half the night if they could. I have seen way more outside play, with the disappearance of electronics.)




     Kaila has had an ongoing argument with the cable company. Our wifi never seems to work well. Since Kaila is the biggest wifi consumer in the household, with her phone, she tends to notice it the most. Kaila has never shown the slightest hesitation to whip out her phone and call to complain about things when she is not happy, and the cable company is no exception. She is literally on a first name basis with someone from the cable company named Julie, who has an Indian accent. Anyhow, Apparently the wifi was not working again yesterday, after Kaila had just spent babysitting money renting movies off the Roku. This was completely the last straw for Kaila, who then dialed up the cable company again and informed them that this was unacceptable service, and something needed to be done once and for all, because it is absolutely ridiculous that a teenage girl who is on her phone all the time should have the cable company listed as her number five most called number. At which she was coldly and rudely informed that the cable company does their best. To which she snapped back "Sweety. Obviously your best is not good enough." at which the poor guy on the other end (Julie was not in, evidently.) scheduled a technician to come to the house today. And that an 18 year old adult would need to be present. Kaila haughtily agreed to this. She then hung up  from the cable company and got in touch with the next door neighbor and asked her to please be the adult on the premises when the cable company arrived.
     After setting everything up to her satisfaction, she informed me of all this via text. While I was at work. In Buffalo. Surrounded by colleagues. I am very proud of my calm face as I text back "WHAT???!!!!!!"  Honestly, she has better luck with the cable company than I ever have. Anyhow, the cable company came and went today, to Kaila's satisfaction. The text I received was "He just finished up. I picked a new name for the new box. You're welcome." "O.M.G., what is it???" "Bill Wi the Science Fi"


     And that's about it lately. Mostly our days lately consist of work/cleaning/cooking/laundry. Thank goodness for my cleaning sidekick, Lexi, who will happily put on loud music that can range from today's music (Of which she knows every word of every song) to 50's rock and roll, (as, I am pretty sure she was supposed to be born in the 50's and somebody forgot to send her to whomever she was supposed to be born to, so I got to keep her.) Lexi is the only one of my kids who inherited my clean freak streak, and is happy to help on "clean the house" days, as well as shame her siblings for their slovenly laziness.


     Stay cool and think rainy thoughts!


    
    

Liquor in the Church Parking Lot

     I am finding that death and funerals are exhausting. On  mental, physical and emotional levels. I honestly don't recall the last time I was this worn out.


     This has adversely affected the Million Step Challenge. According to my personal goal, I should have been finished with it by next weekend. While it is doubtful that will happen, I am hoping now for it to be done by the weekend following.
     With that in mind, and at the urging of a friend, I was up at 5am today, to go for a nice stroll.


     I am now even more tired.


     While I am completely exhausted, my children are not! George continues to be George. He bounced onto the bed at 6am Sunday morning demanding a weather report for the day because he wanted to go fishing. (The child is obsessed with fishing.) While he did not get to fish that day, we did decide to go on one of our spur of the moment "Adventures". The kids love it. Every so often, I will look at the piles of chores and obligations, at my kids who are sick of the house and each other, and  yell "C'mon kids! Let's go on an Adventure!" Where we then proceed to meander around the countryside finding different things to do. We never really know where we will end up.
     Kaila suggested it, just as I was thinking it this past weekend. So, I recalled a nifty little out of the way spot, off the beaten path. It has several sets of waterfalls and is this side of magical. We packed a picnic and headed out for the day. I am not even kidding, when I say that we sung every single verse to "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" on top of our lungs on the way there.


     It was the perfect outlet for the kids. Especially George. George has zero fear, and now accompanies his craziness with hummed or sung circus music, ending with "HEY!" or "Hup hup!!!!" as he flips or balances or does whatever he does that causes my gray hairs. Last week, I was greeted at the front door with "George learned how to do flips today." "Oh? That's nice." "Yes. But, it was AROUND THE BASKETBALL HOOP!!!!!" I still don't know how he managed it. It's 9 feet up in the air.
     He can now balance across the railing of the front porch, do impressive flips around bars of swing sets and playground equipment, swim to the bottom of a 10 foot pool to retrieve diving rings ("But, that hurt my ears, Mom, so, I don't think I will do it again for awhile.") He can stand on the cross bar of his bike, do wheelies, and has created an entire pit of mud complete with rivers, ponds, roads and bridges in the yard. He also got my cousin to give him a ride in her convertible with the top down.


     Anyhow, we played in the waterfalls for awhile, and even found a swimming hole near the base of one set of falls. We finished up with a picnic near the Genesee River, a few miles up the road, and found ice cream on the way home. It was the perfect "escape" day.


     My Dad's funeral was the day before our Adventure. I suppose we have been lucky, really, because my siblings and I have really not had to deal too much with death as a whole. Those of us in the medical field have, of course dealt with it, but, not really very often on a personal level. Our Dad's passing was, I think, pretty traumatic for us all. From the fall down the stairs, to the final breath, it was rough. I wasn't sure how we would all get through the funeral, and everything leading up to it. We arrived at the church - the same church I was married at, and Kaila was baptized at - and once all assembled, one of my brothers whipped out tiny bottles of liquor and handed one to each of us. You know, those sample bottles you can find at the check out of all liquor stores? "Oh my Gosh, Ben! Liquor in the church parking lot??!!!!" was my first reaction.
     It was the best idea ever. We all stood in the ever present "Fisher Circle" and toasted Dad before heading in. It was the perfect thing to brace ourselves for a funeral we all wanted to be done with. Anyhow, I think the grieving process is normal and natural. I just think that I never really experienced it to it's fullest extent before now. I suppose you can't understand it, until you experience it.


     Poor Joe arrived home from Boy Scout Camp at 10 pm the night before the funeral. He had spent a week at the Camp on Chautauqua Lake, about an hour from home. He informed me that he had only showered once the entire time he was there - the day he arrived. It was announced that he did not need to shower, because he had been in the lake most of the time. He was hustled into the shower at home and sent off to bed in short order,  because we all had to be up early the next day. Once at the church, Joe became self appointed door holder. I was so preoccupied, that I really wasn't paying attention.
     About halfway through the funeral, one of my brothers tapped me on the shoulder and whispered "Can you have George head back there and close the doors? I can't hear over the traffic." Off George went. He was gone. And gone. And gone. And gone.
     Minutes later, he was back "Mama?" he whispered "What doors do I need to close?" I told him the ones that were open to the outside. And he was off again. I sat in absolute stillness, looking strait ahead, as I heard the unmistakable sounds of whispered arguing and scuffling taking place in the back of the church. George's absence was lengthy, and something was definitely happing behind me someplace. However, I was at the front of the church at my Father's funeral, and I did not dare to turn around. With eyes closed, I listened as the muffled noises continued. Eventually, George reappeared beside me. "Mama?" he whispered angrily, "It was the back doors to the outside that were supposed to be closed, right?" "Yes." "Joe wouldn't let me. He was still holding them open!!" "What?? He was still back there  holding the doors open???" I whispered back in shock. Peaking over, I saw a very upset Joe sliding into the other end of the church pew. I had no idea that he had not even been with us for nearly half of the service. Biting back an inappropriate snicker at my boys, we managed to get through the rest of the service without further incident. Peppered by "Mama? How many songs do we have left before the end?" from George.


     Now, we are back to getting life back to normal. I say this while thinking about Kaila's hair. She has been begging for sometime for permission to have her hair dyed an auburn color. I finally acquiesced yesterday, and hauled her in to my sister's salon. Four hours later, and my kid looks exactly like the Little Mermaid. It just about killed me to let Kaila have her long thick beautiful hair dyed. I felt very old and very parental as I thought of the nine million reasons why she shouldn't do it. But, it turned out beautiful, and she is thrilled, and my sister is amazing at what she does. Also, red hair dye tends to fade pretty quickly...
     Also with life back to normal, canning/freezing season is here! So far I have canned strawberry jam, and frozen some peas. I intend to exploit the child laborers at home and drag them to the blueberry fields in short order, so I can freeze blueberries and make blueberry jam next. I will hate every moment of it, but, I do love the finished product! Also, I think I am sufficiently over the peach trauma from a few years ago, to give peach preserves another try. I dunno. We'll see what time and energy allow.


     That's life in a nutshell around here. I promise, the next post will be so much happier!


    

Texts From Dad

     My Dad passed away Friday. He fell down a full flight of stairs about a week before his death. During the fall, he broke several ribs and, fractured his neck. He has had declining health for some time now, and the fall was pretty much more than his body could handle.
     It was a long and terrible week, as we watched him slowly fade away.


     It was hard to walk up the stairs he had fallen down, to look through all his pictures, so that we could put them together for the memorial service, planned for Saturday.


     Something that more than one of my siblings mentioned, and that I think we will all miss, are the texts from Dad.
      Dad was 85 years old. He did not actually start having kids until I came along when he was in his mid forties. Dad worked the swing shift until he retired from his Federal job as a Meteorologist in 1994. I did not appreciate how hard it must have been to have 8 kids and work swing shift - a week of days, a week of evenings and a week of nights - until I grew up and had only half that amount of kids, and attempted to work multiple jobs at crazy hours over the years. He was an older Dad, but, he managed to keep up with his pack of crazy kids.
     Dad would bring a book, and sit patiently under a tree while we would play for hours every summer at the town pool. He was probably thankful for the break, actually. He sat through my brothers' baseball games, played catch with them for hours, and, though quiet, always seemed to be wherever we all were when something of note was happening. Something that I don't think I realized as much, until we were going through pictures over the weekend. Piles of pictures from every memorable event in our lives. He was pretty laid back, and his refrain over the years of growing up was always "Play nice. Just play nice." Mostly he just wanted to read. He read everything. When learning how to drive, Dad would calmly get into the passenger seat of the car, book in hand,  I would start up the car, drive as long as I liked, and Dad would just sit there and read. (By the way, I passed my road test the first time I took it.)
     His great passions were airplanes and all things weather. His years in the Air Force were often fondly spoken of. He loved to go to Air Shows with my brothers.

     What we all sort of smiled over though, was Dad's texts. He had a very basic cell phone that flipped open. It was one of those phones that needed to have the keys pushed multiple times, in order to spell anything.
     We decided he needed a tablet, so he could follow us all on Facebook, so, for his 85th birthday this year, one of my brothers gifted him with one. He tried. He really did, but, he just couldn't figure it out no matter how hard he tried, how to use it. He preferred to stick with his cell phone. Some gems from over the last two years:


"What did the digital clock say to the grandfather clock? Look grandpa, no hands! - Dad"


"President Roosevelt's daughter Alice said her goal in life was to empty what was full, fill what was empty and scratch what itches. -Dad"


"Guy looking for a parking spot at the mall says 'God, get me a parking spot and I will go to church every Sunday.' then see's a spot and says 'Never mind, God, I found one.' - Dad"


"From Groucho Marks 'Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies.' -Dad"


"What did yes say to no? Answer: Maybe - Dad"


"John Ruskin said 'Sunshine is delicious rain is refreshing, wind races up, snow is exhilarating. There is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather' - Dad"


"How to put together a talented group: You find clever people, you provide them with resources, you protect them from nonsense then you get the hell out of the way. - Dad"


"Just read that one of the losers in the 1966 Primary said 'The people have spoken. The Bastards.'         isn't that great? - Dad"


"Dashiff Hammett said 'The problem with putting two and two together is that sometimes you get four and sometimes you get twenty two.' - Dad"


"Today's Moon is called a Strawberry Moon because it's occurring on the Summer Solstice. The last time was 1967, the next time is 2062. -Dad"


"Here are the words to 'Taps' 'Day is done. Gone the sun from the lake, from the hills, from the sky. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.' - Dad"



     Well, Dad. I don't suppose I could have put it any better than that. Fly High, Airman.






     

Squirrel!

     Last Day of School!


     I have never been so happy. We were pretty ready to be finished.


     It did end with a break up. The little girl who requested that Joe be her Valentine, and then announced they were dating, apparently broke up with him. This was discovered by Lexi, who leaned out her classroom window and asked the Jezebel in question if she knew where Joe was. The girl informed Lexi that she did not know, because she had broken up with him. Lexi searched out her little brother, and attacked him with a hug, telling him how sorry she was. Joe shoved her off and asked why the heck she was sorry, and Lexi burst out "Because Soandso broke up with you!!" at which Joe replied "She did?"


     "She didn't tell you?!"


     "No. This is the first I have heard about it."


     By the time the story trickled down to me, it was to inform me that Joe had decided the best way to deal with it, was to have a bonfire, and start it with all mementos related to the girl in question. Who, by the way, has decided that she is now back to dating the boy that she dumped to announce she was dating Joe.
     Joe happily burned all love letters written by this girl, while I breathed in relief that she was not going to be coming around and hanging on my (entirely too young) kid anymore.


     Joe was hanging around last night while I made dinner. The end of the story went as such: Yesterday  He and this girl ended up sitting next to each other for something or other. She mentioned that she was now back to her previous flame. Joe calmly informed her that all her love letters made lovely fire starter, and he enjoyed watching them burn. She became mad, and Joe told her to never even think about dating him again, because he would never take her back.
     I told Joe that I was kind of happy, because, honestly he is too young for these things, and next time around, we are just going to tell girls that his Mama said "NO." until he is much older, thankyouverymuch.


     Joe responded with "By the way, what am I taking to school for my special snack tomorrow?"


     "WHAT?? WHAT "Special Snack"?!" And, thus began an entirely different tangent.


     I went to get my hair done by my sister last night. It was getting pretty bad, and needed her help. I walked into her salon, and she said "What? No kids with you?"


     "Joe is figuring out his new telescope, Lexi and Kaila were doing something or other, and I don't know if George lives with us anymore, truthfully."

     "Oh. Run off with the wolves, did he?"


     "That is a possibility. I rarely see him anymore. The neighbors down the street have a pool. He spends most of his time at their house now. I think that may have adopted him at this point."


     "Does he eat at your house?"


     "I don't even know. Sometimes, he and his friend come through the house, raid the fruit bowl, and leave again. The fruit bowl is still pretty full, though, so, he could have eaten the wolf pack he ran off with, for all I know. Sometimes I think I see him, and I think he has blonde hair now. And, I see superhero underwear in the laundry, so, he presumably comes home at least for clean underwear sometimes."


     We sat down and had a family meeting of sorts last night. George was given a two hour limit to his off-site social activities, He responded with "I would probably stay home more if we got a pool, Mom."
The kids were informed that there was absolutely no reason for them to spend the summer as they did last year - lying around the house in various stages of pajamas and watching TV until shortly before the parental return from work. They were told that there were expectations, and that there were chores and responsibilities. They were all pretty stuck on the possibility of a pool though.


     "It would be great exercise."


     "We would be outside more."


     "Pool parties!"


     "It would be so perfect!"


     "We wouldn't have to drive all the way to Machias to use the town pool!"


     "We NEED a pool!"


Bearded Man said "NO. I am not putting up a pool. I am not getting the ground under it ready. I am not dealing with the installation. That isn't even counting the chemicals, PH balance testing, vacuuming, cleaning. NO."


     "Well. Here's an option. You can all fight it over, and hash it out amongst yourselves. WHAT IF, We use next year's vacation money, to put in a pool, and have it installed. That would mean NO vacation to Black Lake, or wherever we decide to go" (I have been pushing for Maine for years now.) "IF you kids are willing to trade off, and Bearded Man is okay with someone else installing it, then, I would be willing. Discuss this at your leisure, and let me know."


     "KID MEETING IN THE FAMILY ROOM!!!!" they all shouted, and ran off with Bearded Man hustling right behind them. He was sent back when they pointed out that, though he is regarded as one of the kids sometimes, this was not one of them, so please leave the meeting. A pool was voted down 3-1, and, after the probable cost of braces for Kaila, and possibly Joe next year, we will probably book the same vacation again.


     The Million Step Challenge continues. This week, I surpassed the halfway point. Also this week, my sister in law, Deanna, invited me into a "Workweek Hustle" challenge for the week. I will never ever again agree to two simultaneous challenges at the same time. At this point, I am walking at every possible moment, including and right up until bed time. Turbo seems to love the late evening walks, but, I am kind of tired.
     Thrown into the Million Step Challenge was a NEW twist - there are 27 large squirrel sculptures around Olean, where I work. They are scattered all over the place, and each one has a different theme. We have until June 30, to get a selfie with each squirrel. I figure I will have a life again sometime toward the end of July. So far: I have accomplished ONE selfie. and it isn't even the squirrel right outside the front door of the clinic where I work.
    
    Oh, while I am at it - Christmas has been saved this year.


    We have this yearly tradition. Every year, on "get the Christmas Tree Day" we go to a local Pizza Hut, where, some Boy Scouts (Not our troop) sell Christmas Trees. We eat Pizza for lunch, and then we stroll outside at a nice reasonable distance with minimal inconvenience, and select a tree. The Boy Scouts then wrap it up into a tidy bundle and secure it to the top of my vehicle. It's probably the kids' favorite Christmas tradition.
    
     (Before we think Moriah is a princess here, you need to know about previous attempts at the frozen tundra of hiking  through and picking  out then cutting down trees. The last time we tried this, I was less than a month away from having George, I had bartended a big/loud/very late Christmas party the night before, I was in nursing school, I was exhausted, and I had to hike all over the place. We froze, kids cried, Kaila had a friend with her, who lost her "favorite scarf EVER!" someplace, so we had to RE-hike the whole thing.
     Another year, I somehow ended up bouncing along, FREEZING in the back of Bearded Man's pick up truck, 7 months pregnant with Lexi, while we drove to the lot. I still cannot recall his reasoning for myself being in the back of the truck.
     We have NEVER had a good experience in "Cut your own" tree lots, and I avoid them at all cost. While trying not to feel all guilty as my friends post happy perfect family pictures of themselves at all the local tree lots, with trees their husbands all just cut down. None of them are ever frozen, pregnant, angry or hostile.)


     Anyhow, back on track here, last Christmas, the Boy Scouts announced that they probably wouldn't be selling trees at Pizza Hut anymore. Or, anywhere, for that matter.
     We were all horrified by this news, and probably Christmas would be ruined forever now, because it just wouldn't be the same anywhere else. This is tradition!!!!! Every time we drove past Pizza Hut, we mourned a little more.
     Well. There was a Christmas Miracle. I spoke to the Mother of one of those Scouts, whose husband is a scout something or other (helper? Leader? Saver of Christmas??? I don't really know.) and he announced that the Scouts will, in fact, be selling trees at Pizza Hut this year.
     So, Christmas is saved! Glad Tidings and stuff.


     I think that is it. I need to run down town and find a color map of all the Olean Squirrel Sculpture locations, so I can run around town taking selfies.