So, How's the Weather?

Hurrying to throw down the mulch.

Running from the house to the car.

Waiting for the neighbor's generator to come on so we can have water.

Screaming at the top of my lungs when the massive flash of light and the rumbling sonic boom come too close together.

Yep. This week, while Bo is home from work and our family takes a sort of whole-fam sabbatical, most things have pretty much been dictated by the weather around here.

Last week, a tornado grazed our county--a high-powered storm that Bo missed entering by mere minutes on his commute home from work. Downed power lines and toppled trees prevented him from taking his usual route. And the alternate route. And the alternative to the alternate route. He finally found a way home via a driveway that turned into a lane that turned into a road.

When he got home, we were without power. That was Thursday afternoon, and we weren't properly electrified until Saturday morning. In that time, The Baby had a stomach virus, I was getting used to my new mini-herd of dairy goats, we were racing to use the water as it came on (thanks to my neighbor's generosity with their generator and our ability to hook up to his water well), and my in-laws visited from Chicago (hi gmm and tog!).

Today, we were shoveling mulch in between summer showers, working as quickly as we could to throw it off the truck and onto the pathway before we were pummeled again.

And tonight, after awaking, dazed, on the couch, I realized that I still had to go out and milk the two new Nubian dairy goats, Alice and Maggie. The rain was pouring down. The stanchion stood outside, under a tree, because it's nicer to milk outside than in the barn. Expect when the sky is poopin' rain, of course.

So I trudged, clad in my bright pink and yellow garden clogs and my favor-ite raincoat (but no flashlight), with my trusty husband along for company, and we started down the barnyard hill, he with an umbrella (but no flashlight) and I with the milk pail in my hand. We stepped carefully, oh, so carefully, in an attempt to avoid the inevitable fall-downing that occurs when the ground is wet (if it's inevitable, why do we even try? Creatures of habit, I guess. And great optimists). We were just approaching the muddiest, slipperiest fall-downing zone when a HUGE bolt of lightning cracked the sky. I screamed. Bo stood still. My brilliant mind thought, "We'd better move before it hits us!" though it was all over but the thunder, which came very quickly after. And very loudly, to boot.

It's amazing how rapidly silly thoughts can go through a person's mind when they're panicking. Bo's holding an umbrella. We're in a lightning storm, under a tree, on a hill. Lightning just struck. We'd better hurry before it hits us. Bo's not moving. Maybe he's already been hit? Why would he still be standing? Shouldn't the umbrella be all ashes, except for the skeleton, like in the Daffy Duck cartoons? What will I tell my children? "Kids, your father was struck by lightning while accompanying me to milk the goats." Will they hate me for life? Will they swear off of goat's milk for all of eternity? Is this really THE END?

All of this in the time it took for the thunder to come.

But the one thing I apparently didn't think about was the slipperiness of the iminent fall-downing zone. In my panic, I just began to run. And then slide. And then fall. Flat on my keister, milk bucket still in hand, apparently (and I only know this because I can still hear the echo in my head) screaming the entire way. And then, once I was in the barn, I successfully tripped over a potbellied pig, a baby billy goat and a fifty pound block of mineral salt (a flashlight would have been nice), after which I threw my arms around my un-lightning-fried husband, who had successfully navigated the fall-downing zone without muddying his backside and was struggling to close the lightning rod...er, umbrella. I errupted in nervous laughter.

But it's all good. Yeah. It's all good. Weather like this has a way of humbling a person, reminding them that they're human and they can't plan everything, can't really control anything.

So, if you'll excuse me, I have to go change my pants after my sweet little keister-mud-slide stunt and wait for the next power outage.

Genius!

Your IQ Is 95

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Above Average Your General Knowledge is Below Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

Words to Consider

"When I was a boy, each week
On Sunday, we would go to church
And pay attention to the priest
As he would read the Holy Word,
And consecrate the holy bread,
And everyone would kneel and bow.
Today the only difference is
Everything is holy now.

Everything, everything,
Everything is holy now . . .

When I was in Sunday school,
We would learn about the time
Moses split the sea in two;
Jesus made the water wine.
And I remember feeling sad
that miracles don't happen still.
But now I can't keep track
'Cause everything's a miracle

Everything, everything
Everything's a miracle . . .

Wine into water is not so small,
but an even better magic trick
is that anything is here at all.
So, the challenging thing becomes
not to look for miracles,
but finding where there isn't one.

When Holy water was rare at best,
I barely wet my finger tips.
Now I have to hold my breath--
like I'm swimming in a sea of it.

It used to be a world half there,
Heaven's second rate hand me downs
but I'm walking with a reverent air
'cause everything's holy now.

Read a questioning child's face--
to say it's not a testament,
now that'd be very hard to say.
To see another new morning come--
to say it's not a sacrament,
I tell you that it can't be done.

This morning outside I stood
And saw a little red-winged bird
Shining like a burning bush
Singing like a scripture verse.
It made me want to bow my head
and I remember when church let out
how things have changed since then.
Everything is holy now.

It used to be a world half there,
Heaven's second rate hand me downs.
I'm walking with a reverent air
cause everything's holy now. "

Lyrics by Peter Mayer Copyright 1999 (ASCAP)

Happy Birthday, Monet!

I'm alive. I'm here. I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Life has just been terribly busy. Too busy for my sanity, actually. My house is beyond my control now, and I have to buy new socks because no one seems to be able to locate a pair to wear. I'm busier than I can shake a stick at. Don't ask me what that means, because I don't know, either.

Today was Monet's birthday, and, oh silly me, I planned a whole host of things that were suitable for sunny weather. Canoeing. Swimming. Go-Karting. Hiking. But, since we live in Ohio, I should have planned puddle jumping or raindrop dodging. We ended up at the movie theater, which is just what I *didn't* want to do.

On top of that, I let Monet choose his own present. I gave him a set amount of money and told him he could purchase whatever toys he liked. After an hour in the RC aisle and several consultations with Bo and me, he chose two small radio-controlled cars that ran on different frequencies so that he and Houdin could race.

They didn't work.

I've pretty much come to the conclusion that just about any purchase you seriously deliberate over will land you with a piece of junk. Or maybe it's just me.

And as Monet was opening the remainder of his gifts tonight, I realized with horror that he got some of the most boring gifts a little boy could possible get. Sandals, shorts and t-shirts. A pocketknife and a wristwatch. The only "fun" things he got were two Calvin and Hobbes books, one we already had, and a Bionicles set from his sister Bard.

But here's what takes the cake; when it came time to blow out the candles, I had no batteries for my camera.

So, for future reference, Monet, when you look back on your 11th birthday and wonder why you always felt it was the most boring birthday ever, guess what? You were right, and I'm very sorry.

But I love you anyway.

Dogs and ducks, gardens and butts

Whew! The kids are all in showers/baths, and I'm waiting, anticipating, anxiously, the moment that I get my own bath and get to BED. Or at least relax with a movie or a book. I spent the day, from sun-up to sunset, working in the yard or doing errands to work in the yard. It's a humble beginning, but it WILL get there, eventually. I wish I could just *SNAP!* snap my fingers and it would all be lovely!

We tilled the plots a few weeks ago, solarized it for a few weeks, then, today, Bo put a fence around the veggie garden. The kids and I worked all day shoveling manure and planting tomatoes, peppers, pole beans, onions, lettuce, cilantro, carrots, radishes and nasturtiums. Boy, it seems like we planted more than that! Houdin also worked on digging a hole for a small water garden (his idea) in the middle of Bard's garden. She doesn't know yet; she wasn't home for the afternoon.

We let the ducks out while we were working, and they hurried around from one place to another in a little huddle until Lewis, our dopey black lab, just couldn't help himself anymore and carried one away in his big, floppy jaws. I called him and the poor little duckling flopped up and down as Lewis came bounding toward me. Lewis was so pleased with himself for bringing me the prize, and the duckling was very glad to be in my arms instead of in Lewis's mouth.

Here's a good one for you. As I was typing this, Sweetheart called to me from the tub behind me, "Mom? Why is a butt called a 'butt'?"

Garden Update!

The spinach is up! The peas and sugar snaps are up! The lettuces are up! The scallions are up!

The plants in the little greenhouse aren't doing nearly as well as I'd hoped, aside from the nasturtiums, which took for-E-ver to germinate, to the point where I'd actually given up, and then--POP!--up they came, and they seem to grow several inches each day. The peppers--jalapeno, cayenne--are growing well, too. I keep losing the watermelon plants due to overwatering, I think. And my alyssum, which seemed to be doing so well, has just. stopped. growing. Looks like I maybe buying more plants than I'd planned.

The garden is tilled and is currently under black plastic, solarizing and waiting until I can get some fencing around it to keep the dogs out. And as soon as that happens, it's time to start planting. Onions, cilantro, tomatoes, beans, peppers, cucumbers, more lettuces and spinach, swiss chard, pumpkins, squash, watermelon, basil and more.

The herb garden next to the kitchen door is coming along nicely. Tonight I planted some more sage, French and Texas tarragon, two kinds of oregano, cinnamon basil, fennel and dill, rosemary and parsley. Yesterday, I planted chamomile and two different kinds of thyme. And next, I have plans to plant a tea garden around the water hydrants (the thing we use to water the garden, not like a fire hydrant), using the great big tree buckets Bo found in a dumpster today. I'll sink them into the ground around the hydrant; that way, we won't have to mow around the hydrant, and we won't have to worry much about watering the mints, plus, they won't spread because they'll be contained in plastic buckets.

AND--oh joy of joys, I'm so excited--the cherry tree that we planted about five years ago is LOADED with cherries! Here's hoping they'll make it to marturity!

So tell me, how does YOUR garden grow?

The Greenhouse, Part Three

I was so excited about my prospective employment at the greenhouse; to me, it was like a gift from God, an answer to prayer. Yes, it's true, I often bristle when people say, "I prayed that it wouldn't rain today so that I could have my garden party, and God heard my prayer! Hallelujah!" Because what I'm thinking, of course, is, "What about that farmer who's been hoping for rain for two weeks? Whose family is depending on that rain? Who was on his knees last night BEGGING God for rain? How about him?" But in this case, I really feel like God prepared me for the opportunity, prepared the owner of the greenhouse, provided the perfect timing. I believe this because of several things:

1. I've talked to a scad of people over the past week who said they put in an application either just before or just after I walked through the door of the greenhouse; they weren't hired. I was. I didn't present any special talents, didn't try to wow anyone with my expertise, didn't even tell the owner that I was always available or the my schedule is flexible.

2. As I was finishing my conversation with the owner of the greenhouse, she said she'd just told a friend to pray that God would send her two good workers. I walked in just after that and offered myself and Bard as potential employees.

3. My husband was furious.

Okay, maybe "furious" is too strong of a word. He was angry, resentful, angry, upset, angry, frustrated and fairly angry. It was the darndest thing I've seen in quite a while.

See, I got home from the greenhouse and immediately wanted to tell my darling Bo about this exciting new development in my life, so I called him.

"Guess what!" I chattered excitedly. "I've been offered a job at the local greenhouse!"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

By the end of the conversation, it was very apparent that my dear Bo was less than thrilled with the prospect of my new employment. And I was completely puzzled. This was so very not like him. What he was displaying was akin to jealousy, which is a character trait he has never, ever, ever, and I mean NEVER displayed.

And what I felt, immediately, was hurt.

I felt like my joy had been completely stolen from me.

Makin' Muffins like Martha

I couldn't help it. I know I'll be exhausted when it's time to wake up tomorrow morning for the children's speech tournament, but I've been reading an awful lot of Martha Stewart material, and I just couldn't help it.

I made muffins.

No, that's not really a big deal, I know. It's just that I made them only a few minutes ago. After midnight. When I know I have to wake up before God does in the morning.

What can I say? I've been in a baking mood lately, after reading Martha's Pies and Tarts cookbook, and her Baking Handbook, and her authorized biography, Being Martha. I even pulled a couple of back-issues of Living from the library. I've marked about a gazillion recipes to try.

And, get this, today, I even pulled a bunch of my recipes out of the drawer--you know the one. Please tell me you have one, too. The drawer that's so stuffed with every recipe I've ever had--including the mustard pretzel recipe I've never made, and the grocery list from five Thanksgivings ago--that when I open it, seven pieces of sticky, oily paper skim themselves from the top of the pile, sliding down into the cupboard beneath and landing inside a Rubbermaid bowl. It's usually the recipe I'm looking for that makes the migration, the one I don't think to seek in the Rubbermaid bowl until I've dug through the drawer. Twice.

Anyway, I pulled about half of them out and--get this--put them into page protectors and inserted them into hunter green ring binders, to match my kitchen. While I'd like to say, "Isn't that so Martha?" I know it's not completely, because I know that I once began a real Martha project which I still insist on finishing one day; I read on her site a suggestion for printing recipes onto cardstock sheets, two per 8 1/2 x 11 sheet, laminating them, and then punching a hole in the top corner, and then looping them onto a ring. I've printed my favorite ones that way, and I'm bound and determined to do the rest. But, for now, I'll settle for a color-coordinated ring binder.

I'll finally admit it. I LIKE Martha. Just like I LIKE Barry Manilow. I really don't care how much she's made fun of or how much I'm made fun of for liking her. The people who ridicule Martha are just jealous. Mediocre people like to pull others down to their level of mediocrity. Whatever. If it makes them happy in their own little pitiful worlds, let them go ahead and think they're so much better than Ms. Stewart. Ha. As IF.

Martha inspires me. I like her ideas, I like her people's ideas, I like her recipes, and I like her strength and determination. You may call her a female mama dog. Lots of people do. I call her a gutsy woman who knows how to get what she wants without apology.

So, now, my recipes are protected (most of them, anyway), my kitchen is clean, and my muffins are made. The house smells like cinnamon and apples and carrots and dates. Yum.

Hey, it's still the midnight hour. Go make some muffins yourself.

Morning Glory Muffins

INGREDIENTS:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups white sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups grated carrots
1 1/2 cups peeled and grated apple
3/4 cup flaked coconut
1/2 cup dates, pitted and chopped
1/2 cup chopped pecans
3 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DIRECTIONS:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Lightly oil 18 muffin cups, or coat with nonstick cooking spray.
In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking soda, cinnamon and salt.
In a second bowl, combine carrots, apples, coconut, dates and pecans. Stir in eggs, oil and vanilla. Add this mixture to the dry ingredients; stir until smooth.
Spoon or scoop the batter into the prepared muffin pans. Bake at 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) for 18 to 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean.

An Outdoor Kinda Day

With the sun so lovely, and the birds singing, and the weather cool and pleasant, can you blame us? Today is an outdoor kinda day! The kids and I planted our annual flower beds with snazzy pink and yellow snapdragons, dusty miller and blue lobelia. I pointed out to Bard that our rows don't march. They sort of, um...meander. ;-) She said, of course, that it doesn't matter.

Bard is planning a garden of her own, an element garden, with different colors and kinds of plants to reflect their element--sun, earth, water, air--with a cluster of red flowers (sun), white flowers (air), blue flowers (water) and earthy things like hens and chicks and fennel for the earth part.

I'm so encouraged to see the perennial garden coming back up. At the end of last season, Bard and I spent all the money we possibly could on gallons of half-priced perennials, enticed Houdin into digging us some space, bribed Bo into filling the pickup truck with rotted horse manure, and buried our treasures. Through the winter, I sprinkled the used rabbit bedding over the perennial beds, and this year, we're being rewarded with happy plants flourishing! I can't wait for the cut flowers this year!

Houdin, too, wants to put in a garden, a pie-shaped piece near the front of the house. Unfortunately, we can't get our little garden tiller started, so we'll have to wait until someone bigger and stronger and more stubborn can do it.

Houdin is also working on our yearly batch of Dandy Burgers:

Dandelion Burgers
1 cup dandelion flowers - pinch the flower at the bottom, roll it and shake off the petals
1/2 cup flower
1/2 tsp salt and garlic powder (or 2 cloves garlic, minced)
1/4 cup chopped onions
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1/4 tsp dried basil
1/4 tsp dried oregano
fresh ground pepper

Mix ingredients and add enough milk to make a stiff batter. Shape in golf ball-size pieces and fry in oil.


Keep the waffle recipes coming!


And now, it's time to resume working. Get out and do some digging!

Belgium Waffle Contest

We recently acquired a Belgium waffle maker via FreeCycle. Now, how to make Belgium Waffles?

If you have a good recipe you'd like to share, please do so. We'll test them and post the results here. The winner will receive a little prize from the folks here at Today's Lessons.

Happy Waffling!

Collage of The Visit from Li'l Sis and Li'l Niece

The glasses Li'l Sis bought me for my birthday.

Li'l Sis and Li'l Niece

I had a wonderful visit with Bo's youngest sibling, Li'l Sis and her adorable daughter, Li'l Niece. It was so good to see her, have her here, play with her, cook together, and just BE. With Li'l Sis, I don't feel like I need to put up a front. She knows my foibles and imperfections and loves me anyway.

We made chicken breasts using a delicious combination of recipes that I've gathered, altered and concocted over the years and Li'l Sis insisted on making fried potatoes--like deep fried--which set my stomach over the edge, but BOY were they good. Later in the evening, we made a run to the movie store to get "something funny" which we couldn't find, so we came home with Dreamer, which was just okay, not amazing or wonderful or particularly inspiring. Dakota Fanning was cute, though. And Li's Sis, who must be obsessed with food, made a sinful dessert by taking rolls of cookie dough, spreading them in the bottom of a baking dish and baking them until the were barely set and still gooey. This, she served with Breyers Vanilla Ice Cream and Reeses Magic Shell. I had justthismuch so that I wouldn't be a victim to my stomach all night long, but I still ended up with a sour stomach. Eeeyuck.

Li'l Niece is S-O-O-O cute and I couldn't stop taking pictures while she was here! I filled my camera card. FILLED it. 279 photos of Li'l Niece swinging and Li'l Niece playing with the duckies and Li'l Niece being cuddled by my dad and Li'l Niece eating bananas.

It was a wonderful time, and I'm so glad she came. Thanks, Li'l Sis for taking the time, and for all of the wonderful gifts you brought from you (the gorgeous mexican glasses!) and g-ma (the beautiful tealight holders!).

And now, after a very mad dash to clean the house, it's time to receive some other guests.

H'asta la Seeya!

The Baby

Li'l Niece with Duckie in her hood. :-)

Li'l Niece with Nibble and Duckie

Li'l Sis and the duckling

The Baby

Li'l Sis and Li'l Niece

Bo, The Baby and Li'l Niece.