More Strands in This Web


Anniversary dinner coincided with Cruisin' Grand, and we enjoyed an evening stroll, taking in the sights.

Some things I'll do for a friend... what can you say with 1 word? Here is what I came up with for my friend Tarie.

1. Where is your cell phone? purse
2. Your significant other? amazing
3. Your hair? frazzled
4. Your mother? resourceful
5. Your father? storyteller
6. Your favorite thing? laughter
7. Your dream last night? fear
8. Your favorite drink? water
9. Your dream/goal? home
10. The room you’re in? family
11. Your hobby? blogging
12. Your fear? failure
13. Where do you want to be in six years? roadtrip
14. What you’re not? confident
15. Muffins? yum
16. One of your wish list items? house
17. Where you grew up? California
18. The last thing you did? dishes
19. What are you wearing? grunge
20. Favorite gadget? peeler
21. Your pets? delight
22. Your computer? iMac
23. Your mood? sad
24. Missing someone? many
25. Your car? blessing
26. Something you’re not wearing? smile
27. Favorite store? thrift
28. Like someone? Geoff
29. Your favorite color? secret
30. When is the last time you laughed? yesterday
31. Last time you cried? today


Red. Reminds me of all the beautiful berries everyone has been picking and canning and sharing. Like these raspberries! Have you seen Such Things? Scrumptious.


There is something so appealing about this pick-up... it evokes country roads and picnics, meeting up with friends and good cheer. Summer and picnics, summer and hikes, summer and the company of children. Good stuff.

I enjoyed reading Amanda Soule's post about 10 things she is loving, and at the bottom she asks, "And you? What are you loving right now? I am still savoring the question.

I was passing by the "Blue Yonder" and I came away with beans for my gardening friend, Anne, of "Mom, What's For Dinner?" She can make cheese!

Jennifer has been looking back and recalling happy memories of summer camp. Those have been fun to read. She also passed along a "Brillante Weblog Premio" to me, which is very sweet, because 1. she thought of me and 2. she put me in very good company. Then Lesley passed along the same award to me. Thank you Jennifer and Lesley!

I get to nominate 7 other bloggers... 7 Brillante bloggers. There are so many! I'll share the love with:

Janece and Paul and Amira. They are most brilliant!

Also very brilliant is Amy and her busy, beautiful family.

This family does not know me, but I am enjoying the stories they tell... they are brilliant.

As though making dinner every night isn't brilliant enough, I have to shout about the brilliant woman blogging about dinner every day... healthy dinner, thoughtful dinner, dinner with leftovers, new recipes, new ideas... all brilliant.

Tarie is Brillante. She writes about her greatest loves, her family and literature, and her enthusiasm is infectious.

Recently I posted about Em and her chicken quest. I hope you saw her news piece... naturally, I feel a strong allegiance to her cause. I think she is deserving of a Brillant Weblog Premio.

"Two geeks get their farm on. Chaos ensues." Seriously! How could I not award "Farm Natters" a Brillante Weblog Premio? I was hooked from the first post I read... Goose Invasion.

Is that 7, already?


Very well, then I think I should wrap this up. The children are reading several books, alternating, and reading aloud. Maria has been very enthused about playing basketball with her brothers. Geoff and I are trying to calculate how much stuff we could pack and store in anticipation of getting out of here: No, we have no destination, but we want to make a move towards our move. The lot with a trailer was nabbed by some nitwit with too much money... I am not bitter. Repeat. I am bolstered by all of your brilliant suggestions for "introducing" the hens to the landlord... obviously this calls for some creative enhancement of something approximately probable. I thank you one and all.

Come Back Later... I'm Whining
Seriously, I could crawl under a table, stare at the underside and feel sorry for myself all afternoon. Feh. Blech. Blah.

I still haven't signed the new lease deal with the landlord. It's not such a terrible contract, it's just that it is debilitating thinking of being here indefinitely, and worse: I have to disclose a proposal for approval of any new pets. You know, pets? Like, as in, chickens?

It's all my fault. After 5 years of yearning and false starts, after waiting and hoping to find our destiny, I finally took matters into my own hands and defied common sense and reason. I hate renting. I hate not knowing where we are going next. I hate having to answer to another adult for my paint choices, and for permission to have this or do that. I am tired of living half in and half out, apologizing for our messes and regular wear and tear.

Oh, yeah, it's a pitiful situation... not our circumstances, me telling it.

Yup. I should have known better than to walk in to that feed store and walk out with chicks. My plan was based on hope and optimism and it is swiftly falling apart before my very eyes. The chicks aren't cute little peepers, that can hide in the shower stall and fit in a lunch bag. They are days away from cackling from a nest box. They fly and run around. They make a mess, and they make a scene. And they are going to make my landlord mad.


They make me happy. They amuse us all... how can I have regrets?

If we are here to tell our story, then there are still blessings to thank God for, but in all honesty... this has been a really hard year, following challenging years, on the tail of some disappointing times. And I do not feel like I am managing very well.

I've spent too much of the day doing house searches on Redfin, an amazing search tool, if you happen to be looking in one of their service areas. Redfin is amazing, but the market is lousy. Yes, there are deals and more options than last year, but too many sellers are still smokin' some wacky stuff. Now, I am just sad and defeated. Southern California is full of crummy, small, crowded, fixer-upper million dollar houses. Want to see something insane?
This place is obviously a bit out of our reach, but do you think any place can appreciate by $51,000,000 in 8 years?! Yes, I counted the zeroes. I've seen countless others, that are in middle class neighborhoods, that ought to be reasonable, and yet they are asking for 1 and 2 million dollars more than they paid 1 year ago! I ain't buyin'. Which just plain sucks.

We've been calling this bubble and economic "down turn" for a long time, and if anybody isn't aware: It's going to get worse. Whether you turn to the White House or the Onion, for your economic forecasts, it's all laughable.

So, buy now? Over pay or settle for something too small, too remote? We could go far east in the county, but we would be out of our comfort zone, and deep in to heat, fire, drought and long commute country. We could go very far east and make a go of it in Wisconsin, but the job market makes that a risky proposition. I think of moving north; after what happened to my mom, I am very interested in closing the gap between our homes. We've thought about renting some place else, some place fun and cheap, or fun and cheap and different, while we wait for the market to correct itself. Theoretically, this is an interesting idea, but practically it makes me go in to a fetal position, hummingWest Side Story tunes...
There's a place for us,
Somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us
Somewhere.
Some day!


If you made it this far, you're a caring friend, or a glutton for punishment... I'll throw you a lifeline, I'll open the same window of joy and hope that Aunt Carol sent me. Make yourself smile and watch these world dance videos and maybe, like us, you'll feel like dancing too!

Chicks Make Demands


"Equal air time," and "More time in the dirt," those are the sort of demands these chicks make. Negotiations are ongoing. If they start asking for a percentage of the $00.08 I made through blog ad revenues last year, it could get ugly. Besides, I don't think they are even in the Guild. I have every reason to believe we can settle this peacefully.


Buttercup is looking a lot less buttery, and a lot more peanut buttery.


Another difference we are noticing from when we first brought Fantam and Buttercup home, is that they are quite strong. They seem stronger, more willful and wilder than Amelia and Betty were.


Maybe funnier looking too.
And we certainly agree with Lesley, when she says, in the comments: "And can't you just see dinosaurs in their shapes and stances?" You aren't being "weird" Lesley. They are dinosaurs.

On more thing... an important note: Em, of "Em and the Gang," is fighting the good fight for chickens and city farmers everywhere. Please give her a round of applause, and a cheer, as she petitions to make backyard chickens a choice and freedom in her town. Em is a hero in our household. Be sure to see her air time, and let's hope all of her neighbors wise-up.

Chickens and So Much More!

"I have to say, for a chicken blog--I don't see many chickens. But oh well; it's all good.
--Kate, The Manic Gardener"

Do I need a disclaimer? Should I tell my story, the origins of "Chickenblog," all over again? Is it time to revisit those Chicas... Chicas of the past and present?


Lady Betty Orpington. She's a big girl now.

In the olden days, before iPhones and Blue-Ray, I gave up handwriting letters and started learning how to email family and friends. Geoff had always been computer savvy. He used to read me Internet articles back in 1990, which is only recent in geological time, but not in the context of modern technology. So, Geoff was hip and cool, but I was a total newbie and using email was a gigantic tech-step.


Amelia, The Test Pilot. She's got her wings now!

Anyway, I was writing emails to Hawaii and Wisconsin and trying to keep family caught-up with our growing family. And it never occurred to me to cut and paste, to send the same letter to multiple people... that seemed like it would be impersonal, like cheating, and besides, I could never remember the keys for cutting and pasting. In 2002 Geoff thought it was time to update the whole communication system. He thought web-logging would be the most efficient and interesting way to share news and explore a medium that was just starting to take-off.


Amelia's feet are spotty and her beak has a Groucho-'stache. I think Betty could stand in for Harpo.


Not me. No, I am a resistant, foot dragging, fearful, shy, reluctant kind of being. I still pop my corn on the stove top and I am suspicious of new fangled things, like yogurt in a tube and online banking. Microwave popcorn is not right. Bank tellers should be better dressed than me and alive, because that is just what I am used to. I just know I've told this story before. I wonder if I am telling it the same, or dressing it up?


I was kicking and screaming, but Geoff dragged me into the 20th century. Then he pulled extra hard, and managed to get me into the 21st century. My first assignment was to choose a name for my blog. Having never seen any blogs, and still not understanding what the point of blogging could be, I felt unprepared and indecisive. I didn't feel like a person with an agenda or something to sell. I did not have a hobby I wanted to share or promote. There was no creative impulse to drive me, and so no inspired, literary, introspective, artistic or appropriate names came to mind. We had just adopted 4 chicks, the most happy and daring thing had done since having babies, and chickens were foremost in my thoughts. They were new and funny and a source of pleasure for our family, as we were beginning a new chapter in our lives. Our Rancho lives, living in a fixer-upper in the country, learning how to operate a tractor and battle gophers. Amused and distracted by our 4 chicas, I chose "Chickenblog" as the name of the blog.


I see Kate's point. There aren't many chickens for a chicken blog. And, sadly, there were many years with no chickens at all. Chickenblog is about my dreams of having chickens, it's about the whimsy of chickens, it's about me feeling giddy and optimistic when I think of chickens. Chickenblog is my letter to family and friends, a family journal, a way to connect. It's about chickens of the past, like the one we bought for a dime, when we were living in Guatemala, or the ones Santa brought us when my brothers and I were really little kids. Chickenblog is about the chickens we brought home in May 2002, and the new flock we started this year. Chickenblog is about not knowing better and thinking my blog needed to call itself a blog. Chickenblog is about me and us and our stories and deep thoughts and other musings, and sometimes I think I write like a chicken... hunting and pecking at the keyboard, scratching the surface and looking for good things, crowing and noisily clucking when I feel good or scared or excited.


I am amused when I think of how reluctant and confused I felt when I started blogging... Almost like a headless chicken. Just kidding. Creepy, I know. Sorry. (lol) I could not see the big picture or where things would head. There is a lot we take for granted about blogs now, and there are almost as many blogs out there as there are themes and motivations... it's funny to me, thinking about the early days. 6 years ago was a long time ago in the world of web logging. I wonder where we will be 6 years from now...


I know where we were 19 years ago. We were catching our breathes, grinning, happily just married. Happy Anniversary Geoff. Still grinning. Still happy. It is all good.

The Longest Day


Alex sitting cool, Summer Equinox, Fortuna, California. 7:19 p.m.

While I have managed to unpack the car and even finish washing, drying, folding and putting away the road trip laundry, I have not finished my travelogue... my snapshot-memory book of our travels to and from Oregon. The last days of our drive home got a bit dramatic, because of the California fires. Then we had a very short time with Geoff before he had to leave for Chicago. Events and passages, daily duties and life, have been swirling and bouncing, and I have not quite managed to catch-up. Catch-up?! Seriously, have I ever been "caught-up," organized, with it, on top of things, in control?


Max teaches Maria how to throw a shoe. June 20, 2008. 7:39 p.m.

About those fires... I should have calculated how far I would drive from Fortuna, the second day of our drive home. I should have decided on a reasonable stopping place and called ahead for a room.

We spent the night in Fortuna, and had a relaxing dinner and evening at Eel River Brewing Company, a place making my list of awesome road trip stops. And later that night William, Alex and I squealed and shuddered witnessing the sky cracking thunder storm and rain, seeing the lightning. It turns out this was the same storm that began all of the lightning strike fires California is suffering.


7:40 p.m.

The next day we were seeing CDF vehicles and personnel everywhere. Fire fighting crews from all over California and other western states were on the move, and it was disturbingly reminiscent of way too many fires and evacuations from our past.

Closure of highway 1 in Watsonville from one fire, rerouted me away from Bill and Alison's place, so I continued down the 101 through San Jose, and as we approached the east side of Watsonville we could see flames in the hills. Further south we began to consider stopping for the night, and we pulled over in King City, where we discovered every room was booked... just as it had been in Santa Cruz and Monterey. The parking lots were full of CDF crews and evacuated families.


7:42 p.m.

We called Geoff. We had already been driving about 10 hours and between the fire and the heat wave, I could tell we would need help booking a room. So, I kept driving south, while Geoff called every hotel/motel between Greenfield and Pismo Beach. By now we were witnessing the fires burning on the eastern slopes of the Big Sur coast, and Geoff was having no luck finding us a place to stop for the night. Everything was booked due to the fires, summer events and an inland heat wave.


The Eel River, Phillipsville, California. June 21, 2008. 10:19 a.m. For hundreds and hundreds of miles I would think to myself: "This is beautiful. This place, this sight, this moment, those flowers, the light, the water, the air. I should take a picture."

Maria needed facilities and I stopped in Phillipsville... a small, remote place in the middle of the Redwoods and we found a camp store. I helped Maria, and I gave the children a $20 bill and instructions: Buy something. A treat. Anything you want." Maria and I joined them in the store, where they were still pacing up and down the 3 or 4 aisles of the little provisions shop.

Max asked, "Anything? Even soda?
I was tickled with what was becoming a happy diversion, "Yes, anything."
Max again, because he has to be certain of all the rules: "Even ice cream?"
We had already done 2 full tours of the entire shop, carefully weighing the options. Maria was embracing a snack package of Oreos. 6 cookies awaited her rapt attention and grateful nibbles. William pulled a grape soda from the cooler. Alex was peering into the ice-cream freezer. My satisfaction and pleasure was in watching my children revel in the bliss of choices, freedom and the anticipation of a camp-store treat. Max and Alex chose Tollhouse ice-cream sandwiches, William savored his grape flavored soda and Maria's 6 cookies lasted a sweet hour or more.


Strawberry fields and road side stand. North of Hopland, California. The Redwood Highway. June 21, 2008. 1:06 p.m.

Our next stop, our lunch, came from this strawberry field...


1:08 p.m.
This would have been a good time to call ahead and book a room... maybe in San Jose or even San Francisco, so I would not have the crisis that awaited us later.


We pulled under a huge oak tree, rinsed the sun warmed berries and began our picnic. The berries were sweet. the day was hot. I gave the chicas more water.


I sort of get the saying "Money can't buy happiness, but I have never believed it. I understand it, but that's not the same as believing it. Money does not guarantee happiness, and having money does not prevent unhappiness. Money gives opportunity, security, options and freedom. It can save us from hunger and strife, from limitations and hardships. I think it helps to know life with money and without money, to deeply appreciate the difference. This is a topic that I appreciate merits more than a paragraph, but I am going to keep this simple: I am so grateful to have options and freedom, to be blessed with a reliable vehicle and gas money, to have cash on hand for a box of berries.


Cameras, cell phones, fabric for homemade dresses, chickens as pets, Oreo snack packs, tickets to see "Wall-E," clean water and time are wonderful luxuries. Strawberries, sweet and fresh, eaten in the shade of an ancient oak tree are happiness in fruit form.


Golden Gate Bridge trail-head parking lot. 4:12 p.m.

Hours before I knew how long the day would be, before finding booked motels, I stopped here. I gave the chicas more water, and called Ron and Delia. I tried to nap a bit, but couldn't.

Later that night, armed with the Internet and phones, Geoff finally did manage to find us a hotel room. I had to backtrack 10 miles, and by 11:30 p.m. we were in a safe, comfortable room, and pulling covers over ourselves. 13 hours of driving were over, and we were, finally, free to rest.

Did you read all the way through? Long day = long post...lol. In years to come, I think it will be nice to recall this challenging, fun, beautiful, long day. Our adventures and trials, the way we see the world, makes our lives worthwhile and meaningful. And our friends and family do too, so thank you. Thank you for your emails and comments, for sharing our deep thoughts and other musings. While I have not managed to catch-up, I am sustained and motivated by your thoughtfulness and kindness.

Last Night We Went For a Walk

Thank you for the support and kindness. Abuelo's passing is sad mostly because it brings to mind distancia... how far away I feel from family, from feeling at home and connected. And my heart aches for my Abuela... she lost a husband of 70 years. Thank God for her faith. I think it will sustain her.

Geoff has been gone since Thursday, and today we pick him up at the airport. He was going to shuttle directly to work, but I cannot resist seeing him, even if it's only to drop him off at the office. Thanks to our cell phones, I think we talked more while he was away than when he is home. Sometimes we didn't talk at all, but having him on the phone helped me get through the day.


Going to the car wash is one of my favorite... activities? Events? Pastimes? Something. I just get a big kick out of sitting in the car, and riding through dirty and coming out clean. No brakes. Put it in neutral. I turn around and watch the children's faces as water and suds and big rollers splash and spin. We wait for the 3 color foam soap and multi-tentacles of the dryer cloths.


And this time? Oh this time was awesome, because the triple foam failed to perform and we almost drove away crest fallen and rainbowless, but they hailed us back! They said, "Go through again. You didn't get the color foam." Sweet. Like finding $20 in an old coat pocket. It's your $20, but it feels like found treasure.


After the car wash we went on an evening walk. It was a good idea to get out of the house.

Another good idea was finally celebrating Alex's 14th birthday. We invited Adam and Jacob over for a double feature, on our big screen, with gooey cheese nachos, stove popped popcorn, cold grapes, lemonade and pizza. We set out all of the good eats, dimmed the lights and let the films roll. And Adam and Jacob brought Alex a huge Lego set. People are amused to learn that Legos are still at the top of Alex's wish list. Trust me, those Legos were a huge hit with all of the children living here.


As many of you know, I have been a rebel, an outlaw. I cannot deny my ranchera roots, my cowgirl spirit, and that is why in this manicured-Garage Mahal neighborhood, living in the landlord's columned rental palace, I have snuck-in chickens. First there were 2... Lola and Betty.
When we realized we wanted needed 3, we brought home Pip.
We thought this was our final line-up, but then sweet little Lola died.
Still committed to the idea of having 3 hens, we introduced Amelia.
And for a while we got to just sit back and enjoy the sight of our 3 chicas, Betty, Pip and Amelia.
And wow! did they start to grow fast!
And make us happy!
They have even inspired great works of art.


It was during our visit to Oregon, that my mind proved to my heart that we had a rooster in our midst. I could not be sure about Amelia/o, but it was painfully obvious that our dear Pip was growing proud tail feathers and a cocky stride. If we were in another kind of neighborhood, if our yard were wider, deeper and our own, then this might not have to be a problem. Some roosters are nice and capable of being fine pets, stately additions to a family farm.

I took all 3 chicas to the feed store where they came from and asked Martin to come to the car and see what he could tell me about our situation. Martin could see what I saw and confirmed that Pip is a rooster. He also admired his pretty plumage and unique appearance and he invited Pip to stay there, either as a permanent resident or possibly to be adopted. Some farmers want roosters, and he assured me Pip was destined for a good home. Sigh. You don't think this was a *the dog is living on a farm now* kind of story, do you? Don't tell me. I don't want to know.

All the way home, Maria sang "Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip." It was a very sad song. Thinking of it generates endless wishful thinking.

Naturally I called Geoff from the parking lot of the feed store. I had to tell him the sad news, and promote myself... the responsible cowgirl, who can make the tough decisions. And I was ready to drive home, move forward, take my losses, but it was Geoff who said, "But we need more than 2 chickens. There's no sense putting it off, if there are chicks available now we should just go for it." That's the honest truth. See? I'm not the only outlaw in the family.


We will have to raise these day old chicks separately from the teenage chicas, but I think they will catch-up and adjust soon enough. This dark chocolate baby is a Dark Bantam, and the boys were awestruck with the breed name and immediately and simultaneously declared: "Her name has to be Fantam the Bantam!"


And this little Buttercup is a is a Golden Wyandotte. Considered a friendly breed and certainly very pretty... she and Fantam look like peanut butter and chocolate together.


I just love the markings on these 2. They are very sweet together and we are enjoying their smallness... now that we are so *experienced,* we have a greater appreciation for how quickly this little chicky phase passes.

It's hard to get good pictures of chicks. They move so fast. Peck, scurry, peck, peck, peck. The camera captures dozens of fuzzy blurs, little feathery somethings, lost in the big picture.


Amelia can be almost as hard to capture. She and Betty are on the move and big! Amelia fancies herself a parrot. She loves to perch on shoulders, and she has no trouble flying up or down.


"Ooh arggh, Amelia!" She's setting a course for a patch of green grass.


The best times of this week have been in the garden, watching Joe and Amelia and Betty free range, while we keep very watchful eyes on the new chicas. The weather has been pleasant, comfortable. We have no big plans or commitments. Our carrots and tomatoes are getting full and plump. Lola's garden is abundant with blooms.


Even with a good camera, I cannot always get the picture I want, but these fuzzy farm photos are a happy reminder that we have had some good days, some enjoyable times... amusing and tranquil.


There are plenty of cold grapes and crisp nectarines to feed us the flavors of summer. I talk to my mom almost daily and she is making some progress, managing as best she can, and I am glad that her Mommy is with her this week. I finished 2 blocks worth of hand quilting on Ruth's quilt. One day at a time, recognizing the pleasures and blessings, appreciating what is good. I look forward to more evening walks and double features.

It's almost time to head to the airport. More joy ahead!

House Hunting... From Chickens Who Blog

Riding home from Oregon, we couldn't help but do a little house hunting. We should have asked to ride down some country roads, because we think it's farm houses and off the beaten path kind of places we are really attracted to. However, if offered a home in town... say a place with integrity and character, something with history and interest... we could be persuaded...


Big enough? Likely, yes, but a bit ornate. Besides we don't think that fence would keep the riff-raff out. Pass.


This may be too small, but it does have its charms. We wonder how far back the yard goes? Is there room for a workshop, a pool, veggie beds, goats, an orchard?


If there's no yard in the back, then forget about it. Otherwise We kind of like the side by side aspect. One for us and one for guests? Wonder if we could modify them and create a secret passage between them? Secret passages, attic rooms, gables, window seats, built in shelves, natural light... bonus points for all of the above.


Hmmmm... too many floors. We know very well those extra floors would be an unwelcome obstacle on cleaning day(s.)

Next.


Modest. We like the colors... very fresh and cheery. Looks well built, but not over built. There's still room to add our personal touches. Secure, snug... good and good.


We'll take it! Love the kitchen, the yard, the open floor plan... the whole look of bringing the outdoors in... we love that look!


Oh, and it's mobile. Unexpected, yet practical. Somewhere the grass is always greener and we'll have the option of moving there. Hard to believe this was a picnic table. We really must thank the architect and the builders. Our new home is just right.

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Playing a Meme with Anne.

A. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
B. Tag seven people to do the same.
C. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it."

Here goes, and mind you I have decided to really let it all hang out... it's what girlfriends do.

A. Habits, Quirks and Facts
1. Even though I am fat, I secretly feel happy and comfortable. Why secretly? Women are trained to be small, admonished and ridiculed for being bigger than they are... When I forget that I do not look like a supermodel or like the many residents of our body conscious neighborhood, I feel just fine, curvy and capable, strong and full. When I see that clothes made for the masses do not fit me, when photographs of me do not match airbrushed celebrity faces, then I feel ashamed and low, and very small.

2. My chickens blog. Actually they have to tell me what to say and I post it for them. They make a mess of the keyboard, otherwise I'd let them take care of the whole thing.

3. I am censoring myself, because a surprising number of habits/quirks and facts about me, at this time, are not happy. I am trying to avoid these facts, but I will acknowledge that it's an issue.

4. Every time I type "chicken," it comes out cchiekcen, chikcen, or chckine. It never comes out right the first time. Same with "because." "Because" always comes out becuase.

5. My highest Tetris score was 154,000 and I love it when the rocket launches.

6. I have 2 beautiful quilt tops waiting to be quilted.

7. I wish I could fly. Me. Over hills and along the coast, just flapping my arms or floating magically. I dream of it. I know what it would feel like, as though I am missing something I used to do all the time. My second wish is to be able to sing. I imagine singing would be like flying.

B. 7 People to Play Along
1. Tarie
2. Amy
3. Em
4. Pam... She did it!
5. Carol. Carol, you should have a blog. I think you would have such excellent things to share.
6. JenniferYes, she did it too!
7. Cristina

C. I do tag "whoever wants to do it," becuase I am a rebel.

Looking back... 6 years ago today.

Pistol River State Beach

I feel like I am posting just for Geoff today. We were all up very early yesterday, to take him to the airport for his flight to Chicago.
Sigh.
I really wish we were with him. He's gone to be with family, in remembrance of Jim "Corm," who passed away last February. It is strange and indescribable... the countless ways our lives have changed since that sad and unreal day when we first got the news. I could hardly say what happened; it was too painful, and even now, I find that there is still a great deal of disbelief and grief.

I find myself thinking Everyone in Chicago is going to have so much fun, and we'll be missing out on all of that family time, and then I am taken aback when I realize, again, that it's a memorial, that we have lost someone. It won't be all fun and levity, and the fact that I forget is very telling of how hard it is to believe, to really know that he is gone. I do not think that time eases pain. I believe that time is what it takes to learn how to wrap the pain and hide it from our heart and thoughts, otherwise it cannot be tolerated. When I turn off the noise of everyday tasks and chores, when I quiet the daily din of rambling thoughts and remember that Corm is gone, the pain unfolds and I am devastated all over again.


I still wish we were with Geoff. Everyone will be having fun. There will be fun and healing and wonderful memories to share, new ones in the making. And even when it is painful and sad, I wish I could be with Geoff, and Ruth and Holly, Paul, with all the people that knew Corm and loved him, because time does not ease pain... family, friends, love and sharing ease pain.


I still remember the first time I met Jim and Ruth. It was 1982. I hardly knew Geoff and came to their home as a guest of a mutual friend. I think it was my huge crush on Geoff that made me take everything in and preserve it all in so much detail. Geoff introduced me to "Mom and Corm." I shook their hands, "Hi Mom, hi Corm." Even then I was struck by the familiar and easy way I felt. They had company and were finishing a spaghetti dinner, and Geoff was really excited about his sister being home. Holly had just returned from a year in Wisconsin.

I can picture the dining table, the soft evening light of summer. I can even smell Corm's spaghetti. I can remember the relief at realizing that Holly was Geoff's sister! Geoff was so sweet and attentive, and until I was introduced to her I thought she might be his sweetheart! She lent me a swimsuit, so we could all swim at the neighbor's pool. Now we share baby clothes and holidays, and sisterly love.

And in 26 years I have had the pleasure and blessing of becoming a part of a family that feels as much my own as the mother and brothers I grew up with. I was a child when I met Corm, with a child's limited perspective, and I cannot say when this changed, but I see so much more now and it breaks my heart to realize what we are missing.


My husband, his integrity and skills, his tender devotion... I can see that Corm influenced these dear qualities.

My cooking... turkey burgers, chili and spaghetti are some of the mainstays of our favorite family dinners.

Love. I can say that Corm has been a significant teacher about love. I realized this too late to thank him.

He loved music, and he could play instruments and sing... I used to sit in Geoff's room listening to Corm sing to his parrot, Pablo, in the shower. I adore this memory, and can still recall the happy sensation of enjoying those loving (private) concerts.

He loved language and art and craftsmanship and he applied himself skillfully to all of his interests and endeavors, so that his work and his home, his cooking and conversations were all artful, intelligent, well made. I will miss walking in the house he and Ruth built, appreciating the views they chose, the quality of the construction and the beauty of their work.

He loved Ruth. He loved her in private ways. He loved her with his heart on his sleeve. And it was not about flowery declarations or material gifts... it was about sharing the workload, listening to her needs, honoring her beliefs and sharing his own. His love was about being constant and dedicated to Ruth as his partner. He went to work to provide for their goals. He came home to share in the making of their dreams, to be in her company. I never heard him speak to Ruth or about Ruth without at least a hint of reverence, a protective tenderness and affection. Especially in recent years, I would be so touched by his giddy exuberance when he told me how much he loved her, cherished her, appreciated her, and it was with unchecked candor that he shared his love of his wife, and his awareness of her love and devotion to him. I thought A person could be sustained and carried through anything with this kind of respect and affection. It's a beautiful gift that he can feel this way and share these feelings and acts. And when he died, I thought How sad it is that we cannot witness this love, this outspoken regard and tenderness any more.


I think, perhaps at the memorial, in the next few days, Corm's love and devotion, his dedication, will be witnessed once more, because he touched so many of us and we can each of us carry some part of him with us. When we tell his stories, and share the memories, we will evoke the qualities that were a part of him and that he imparted in us.



I hope Geoff will come home and share many of the details of his time in Chicago, so that we can have some idea of what we are not there to be a part of. I realize that we are missing not only Corm, but in not being at this memorial we are missing all of the people that knew and loved him and that were an influence and inspiration to who he was. Even as a memorial, how can it not be a wonderful time? Everyone there is a part of a circle of people that influenced or were influenced by a wonderful person...


I really hated to leave my Mom and Ron. More than ever, I am keenly aware of the frailty of life. Nothing is constant on this Earth. I tried not to cry as we drove away, or during any of the 1,000 miles driving home... the children have seen too much of that already. I have tried to let Corm's example move more consistently in my life, so that I share my love out loud and wear my heart on my sleeve. I love as much and as sincerely as ever, but now I consciously endeavor to say what I feel, to honor what I feel and to treasure the time I do have with the ones I love. So, as sad as I was to leave, and even with my fears and worries, I found some comfort in knowing that I love my Mommy and Ron, that I have shared my feelings and said my piece... it's not the same as having them close by, being able to drop in on them any time, but it's good to love and be loved, and share those thoughts and feelings often.

On our way home we stopped at Pistol River Beach State Park. It was an unplanned break at the start of a long and arduous trip home. There are about 42 or more places that I would have loved to stop and visit, such is the beauty and attraction of the miles between here and there, and it's hard being very pragmatic and merciless about not visiting every park, viewpoint and farm stand.


Ah, but it is so worthwhile to stop, to quiet the din of everyday chores and appreciate the beauty in the world, the humor, art and language, and the people in our company. So, we watered the chickens, and found the trail to the beach. We let time pass unaccounted and played at being treasure seekers, and pirates. We planned picnics and camp-outs and noted the size of rocks, the sound of the waves. Geoff, you would love this place. We were looking for agates and imagining having a home on the forested bluffs overlooking the ocean. As happy as we were to be there, we were even more anxious to come home to you, because we love you.

Coos Bay Sights


In Coos Bay farmer's market days are Wednesdays, May through October, from 9 a.m. until 3 p.m. Arrive early if you have your heart set on cranberry walnut bread. We came for fruit and baked goods, to leave a message with a gallery owner for my Mom, to visit "Threads That Bind", a wonderful quilt shop that sits right in the heart of the farmer's market, and to take in whatever sights there might be to enjoy. Sights like a tall sailing ship in the bay, slipping by Commercial Avenue.


Just behind the boys is the gallery where my Mom has jewelry for sale... Bay Moss Studio is a beautiful gallery, with many lovely examples of Oregon art. And those tables you see there are laden with all kinds of breads and nutty, fruity treats. I liked the cranberry-apricot bread I sampled.


And speaking of good food, Alex remembered our visit last year to Foodies Grill and we had to go back. Before I launch into gastronomic praise of Foodies: I am so tickled because when I Googled "Foodies," my recent post about them came up... I am happy to spread the good news about good foods! So, I was wrong about there only being 3 menu items. Did they expand? I dunno, but you can see for yourselves that the menu is small. Do not be dismayed... small menu, big flavor! Oh, I wonder if I can order some of that Blackberry Barbecue Sauce? Savory and sweet, and full of berry delectability. So, half a block up from the farmers market, just across from the fire station, look for a stand (bigger than a bread box, smaller than our minivan) and inside they are cooking delicious food and serving it with smiles and style. Max recommends the freshly blended strawberry coconut lemonade.
I recommend arriving hungry!


Honestly, we could have spent many days seeing sights just in Coos Bay and North Bend, and in the few square blocks where we went to the farmer's market, Threads That Bind quilt shop, Foodies, Bay Moss Studios and Leaf's Treehouse, we were not seeing all of the sights. It would have been fun to spend the afternoon in The Pottery Company, on Anderson Avenue, where we could have painted pottery. I think it could be fun to paint my own teacup and saucer, then turn it in to a bird feeder, like this one I saw in Leaf's Treehouse, "Your this-n-that Store."

In The World article about the reopening of the "Flea Market," the Leaf's said, “(We) live locally, and want to see this historical town noticed in people’s travels." Well, I certainly noticed. Their shop is full of old stuff, cool stuff, funky stuff, and it was a nice place to browse and treasure hunt. I had to bring home some those bird feeders and Maria found an armful of books she could not part with.


And yes this is the same place where we came across the Polish hens I posted about. Maria was so excited to have her picture taken with them. If ever a hen dressed for high tea, it was a Polish hen for sure. You might think I am satisfied with the zoo I have already, but seriously... I regret not bringing these 3 hens home with me. If you know where in So Cal I can get Polish chicks, please don't let me know!

Blogging is Like Unpacking
It's true. Blogging is like unpacking. My brain is like the trunk of the mini-van... full of stuff that's just bursting and ready to come out. My thoughts are like the rooftop bag... tightly crammed with essential bits. Really, there is no point in doing much else, until I have downloaded the camera, recorded my deep thoughts and made sense of the other musings.


I made the perfunctory market visit, so that we have restocked the larder. I asked the boys to unload the dishwasher and put the groceries away too. I even made lunch, and emptied the cooler... actually I assessed the damages and let William empty the cooler. That accounts for my initial sweep through domesticity, and now I am going to faithfully record high and low points, happy and tasty moments, and stuff.

So, after my mom's accident, Geoff and I scrambled to get things in order with work, school, home, pets and our conestoga, so that we could go to her in Oregon. We put out a lot of fires that week and by Friday night we were on the road.
4 children?
check
3 chickens?
check
3 sleeping bags?
check
DVDs
CDs
socks
hats
sunblock
toothbrushes
check, check, check, check, check

That first night we made it all the way to Solvang. Incidentally, there was a recurring theme on this venture and it has to do with advance reservations. Advance reservations are a real good idea. No pictures from Solvang. We arrived late and we checked out early and Geoff and I whistled loudly when we snuck the chicas back to the car!

We didn't see elk and salmon jerky until we were far north of San Francisco. Winding our way ever north we saw bear carvings, ferns, meadows, rhododendrons, barns and tractors, cows and sloughs, pear trees, strawberry fields and hundreds of places that looked too enticing to skip, but of course we did skip them, this time. Next time, I want to stop in Eureka and eat at the place with the sign out front: Carnivore, Herbivore... We Have What You're Looking For!


And all along the way I would see things I wanted to remember, to photograph and write about, to share. We stopped every 2 or 3 hours, and that's when we would beg Maria to use her potty or try to sanitize some public restroom for her. My apologies to the planet for a dependence on disposable princess panties.

I would give the chicas a nice cool drink and replenish their scratch. Geoff was hilarious, slowing extra much in the curves and apologizing to the chicas for severe bumps in the road, and the rest of us rolled our eyes and laughed, because we accuse him of not being as courteous with us!

We slept in Fortuna, which is easily becoming one of my new favorite places to imagine living in. From Fortuna we finished the journey and made it to Delia and Ron's in the late afternoon. What a delightful experience it was to enjoy the long days, which grew longer with each passing day and the further north we were. It made it hard to realize it was dinner time, then bedtime. Still, I really enjoy allowing the rising and setting sun decide the start and end of day.


Look at our Pippy. It's those feathers in his tail, the ones that taper and curl... those are the ones that have me concerned. Until he is bigger, I will not be able to find him a home. And if he lays an egg, then all my fears will evaporate, but I am not too hopeful. Or we could find a home of our own before he crows, but for that I am even less hopeful. Sigh.


What about Amelia? She stands guard, always flying to the highest point and playing a cock-fight kind of posturing game with Pip. Oh dear. Why would we have to get 2 roosters? Why?


When Pip and Amelio are acting cocky, Lady Betty Orpington retreats to a quieter corner. She is shy and reserved, and when the light begins to fade she will sit on my arm and snuggle in.


Though it was colder than we were used to, the days were still lovely and Mom and Ron have such a wonderful corner of the world to call their own. We enjoyed the garden flowers, the wild flowers, a quail sighting and the wind in the trees. The chicks enjoyed the grass and seeds and new variety of stuff in the ground... things to scratch and enjoy. We made an improvised chicken run for the sunny days and they stayed in a small room in the garage at night.


Sitting together in the big yard, walking to the feed store, collecting seeds for the chicas, napping outdoors... such sweet pleasures. In the evening we would help Delia down the stairs and share her walk. I think I counted 5 different kinds of pine trees growing along their quiet street. We always turned around before we got to the schnauzer house. Hilarious little dogs bark incessantly, then get their little toys in a wicked choke hold and demonstrate their vicious skills. It's funny once or twice, but not conducive to relaxation and inner peace. I guess this means their quiet street is only that way when the schnauzers aren't disturbed.


I'm glad we found warm clothes for Maria... a bit large, but when I bring them out again in November they will be fine. We've come home to a heat wave. It's so strange to travel; to be in a completely new place one day and then another the next day. I still don't know how to cope with the distance between here and Delia and Ron's, or the ocean between here and Ruth, the deserts, mountains and prairies that separate us from Nancy and our Midwest family, the border and miles that keep us from my abuelos. Such blessings, such longing. We are fortunate to have the desire to be with family, and we have been blessed with many wonderful opportunities to visit and travel, to connect. I just want more. Such insatiable longings.




Geoff drove north with us, then flew home first thing Monday morning, so he missed many of our adventures and encounters. When I drove the children and chickens home, I was filled such gratitude for my wonderful vehicle; it's safe and comfortable, so reliable. And I thought about how lucky we are to be seeing redwoods and rivers, to be able to go to family and hold them and be glad for the good stuff. Driving home I thought about how much I was missing Geoff, and how happy we would all be when we were together again. Somehow, some way... there has to be a way for us all to be neighbors, to live close enough to hold each other every time we need it, want it... this would be very good.

We're Home


We are home, and we are dog tired.

Frosty Campers and No Spell-Check!

The boys insist they've been warm enough, camping in the tent. This morning there was frost on the ground, and all night there were no clouds to blanket the Earth, so I am sure it was very cold. Still, there are no complaints... not about the cold anyway.

Alex has been discovered by the local mosquitos, and even with only 2 bites his forearm is swollen, red and painful. I guess there is at least one reason to be thankful Chickenblog is not posting pictures! There are no mosquitos in the tent. Unfortunately the sneaky suckers have been finding us during the day, when we go on walks, and sit in the yard.

I wrote several posts yesterday, but obviously never got to a wifi spot. So, I have to debate with myself whether or not to post old news, or stick with current events. Most of yesterday's post was my long suffering tale of woe, becasue I lost, then found my original post. The subject gets redundant and boring, facts which I am compounding as I explain all of this, so I am going to drop it now...

Yesterday we made it to Coos Bay, to the farmer's market, and Foodie's. We sampled varities of cranberry breads, and bought sweet strawberries. Foodie's is the smallest, the most tiny restaurant ever and all 3 menu items are incredibly delicious. The parking lot hut serves Caribbean tacos and beef or chicken sandwiches, all with a homemade blackberry sauce, their speciality. Oh, so good.

Just around the corner from the farmer's market and Foodie's we stopped in a new antique mall. Sitting outside, waiting for a new home, what do you think I saw? Hens. Lovely, gentle, Polish hens! Oh my goodness was that a sight, and a temptation. The shopkeepr must have seen me coming; he was determined to convince me that 3 more hens in the back of mini-van, driving south for 20 hours was a perfectly reasonable proposal. Not sure how I walked away from that one. Have you seen Polish hens? All black with a ball of snow white feathers cover their heads, like a lady's hat. Adorable.

My visit to the feedstore outside of town gave me another point of view... I am trying to find a place that will sell chick feed by the pound. Most places want me to take home 25 pounds at once, which is a bit much to travel with. So at this last place the woman kept asking about my circumstances... "How many chicks? How big?" Finally she concluded that 25 pounds is not too much for 3 chicks, but when I explained in more detail that I will be taking said chicks and 4 children in our family car all the way back to So Cal, she finally got the picture and she said, rather matter factly, "Oh. You're crazy."

Yes, just a bit crazy, and also a bit worried. I've mentined my concerns about Amelia behaving like a rooster... well Pip is looking and behaving like a rooster. It's the tail feathers. They are not round at the ends and standing pertly. They rise up then taper to points that fall in little curled tail arcs... very telltale of a rooster's tail. I know Pip has been a favorite of many, and s/he is certainly dear to us, but anything that crows at 0-dark hundred in the morning will not be tolerated by anyone in our tidy little neighborhood. How much sooner would we be found out if there is a cocky-doodle-doer crowing?

Not all roosters are aggresive, and if we were in our own home I would gladly give Pip a trial, an opportunity to prove himself a mild and docile fellow. As it is, living in our rental palace, there is little choice but to begin a search for Pip's new home. I write this tearfully. It was foolhardy of me to jump into this venture. I should have known better. Sigh.

Even now, Geoff is working on the aforementioned lot with trailer... I would give it a more dignified title, if I weren't so determined to remain indifferent. It's a big lot and it has a small house, and if I enjoyed shopping for paint, flooring and bathroom fixtures, then we could call it a real gem! Let's just say it is full of potential. If only all of that potential and space were ours now, but short sales are not so short, and can actually take months before we even know whether we have a chance. Otherwise, there is very little to give me hope that we will be moving to our own place anytime soon. Our friends say how great it would be for us to stay in the area, but my enchantment with So Cal has long since waned.

Gee. This would be such a nice place to stick a pretty picture... something striking to lift the mood.

Back to Coos Bay... we made a stop at the children's resale shop, the one where 90% of Maria's clothes come from. We came packed for summer, but's still early spring here, and too cold for her favorite dresses. Fortunately, I had my usual success at the resale shop and Maria now has warm clothes to wear during our stay here, and for our winter ahead back home. Places, like Oregon and Wisconsin always have the best clothing for children in their thrift shops and resale stores... it must be the 4 seasons and real weather that account for the greater variety. Anyway, I am happy that Maria is snug and comfortable for our afternoon walks, and we'll be able to enjoy a beach day too.

It's already afternoon. It's has been a warm day, with a clear blue sky. It might feel late in the day, if it weren't for the fact that the sun will not disappear until long after 9 p.m., which is a funny thing. Even at 10 p.m., when I went to check the chicas, the sky was still faintly lit. William read several chapters of "Pippi Longstocking" to us last night, and I suppose we were staying up too late, but the internal clock cannot be persuaded to believe in bedtime, when the sky is luminous.

Delia is remarkable. As serious as her injuries are, she is taking the steps she can, and making the slow and steady progress that will lead to recovery. I know she is in pain, and I can imagine she has her fears and disappointments, but she is not letting much get her down. I think it is with a mix of humor and gratitude that she is coping with her circumstances. I wish the circumstances were much different. One day at a time. Thank you for all the prayers and kind words. Every bit helps. She has said, everyone should be praying for Ron. True, he could use our support and praise. He is caretaker #1, and we are thankful for his diligence and steadfast devotion.

Just for the sake of marking time:
June 18, 2008

Just Like The Old Days
No pictures, just like the early days of Chickenblog. Initially we had no photographs at all, and then we posted a select few. After awhile Geoff showed me how to encrypt the photographs and they could only be seen with a password. I still need to go through archives and unlock those. In recent years Chickenblog has been a photo bonanza, but until I get back to Garage Mahal and our lovely iMac, I will have to paint my views with my fancy way of talkin'.

Last night was the boys' 3rd night sleeping in a tent in the yard. Cold nights, down in the 40's, have not discouraged them in the least. There's is plenty of room in here to roll out their sleeping bags, but happily they are content to enjoy a classic summer vacation tradtion of comuning with nature, being one with the wilderness, even without the benefit of a campfire and marshmallows.

What they do have is a flashlight and a well-worn copy of The Lord of The Rings. Last summer they camped with The Hobbit. William and Alex take turns reading aloud. At home Max has been reading to Maria. When the house gets very quiet, I often find them together in Max's bed, and Max is reading from their favorite books. Campers reading in their tent, Max and Maria snuggled with a stack of books... those are 2 pictures I would love to post and remember for always.

In North Bend there is a wonderful children's resale shop, and today is farmer's market day in Coos Bay. See, I am trying to work myself up for a bit of shopping, with 2 things in mind: warm clothes for Maria and some cranberry-hazelnut bread. We came ready for summer weather, but it has been windy and cold, and not the least bit comfortable for sleeveless dresses. Most of Maria's clothes have come from the North Bend resale shop, so hopefully I can pick up some pants and sweaters and she'll be warm now and prepared for our colder season this winter. The only rationale I can think of for the farmer's market is that bread... it's so nutty, chunky, cranberrylicious. My mom says it's early in the season for fresh produce, but there is some chance farmers from warmer areas could come in.

And this is what I wrote when I couldn't find the above installment. Later, when I can sit in my own house with a full computer and other conveniences, I may delete all of this.

June 18, 2008... 12 minutes later

Arrggghh
This is nothing like the poetry I wrote and lost!! Geoff suggested I write my posts in the mail and then save it until I get to the wifi cafe. The idea is perfect, but my execution of the plan has been less so. Trying to find a way to save my descriptive, thoughtful and eloquent submission for Chickenblog, I managed to *blip* the entire entry. All gone. Vanished. Don't think I didn't gnash my teeth and cry a little. Now, instead of making an impression of sublime beauty and painting images of quaint days in meadows, and children reading beneath stars and moon... instead of all my deep thoughts and musings, we are left with me: Cranky and bitter me, typing up a cranky, bitter post about technical woes. Whaaaaa

I think I said something about not being able to post photographs, and how that's how Chickenblog began... with no pictures. Then I sentimentally described my brave sons sleeping for 3 nights in a tent, reading The Lord of the Rings aloud by flashlight. I talked about the cold and Maria's lack of appropriate clothing, and how I thought I might drive to Coos Bay, to the farmer's market and the resale shop. It was all so eloquent, so thoughtfully composed. Trust me... it was good stuff.

I know, the lack of photographs is a bummer, especially when my writing is so limited and hindered. Every 3 minutes Max or Maria feels compelled to ask me something, show me something or tell me something, and so my train of thought is derailed, detoured and deleted. Even now, I cannot write this paragraph without 9 varities of interruption. The lack of photographs is nothing compared with the lack of deep thoughts, continuity and focus.

Sure, maybe it's obvious to you that this might not be the right time to selfishly retreat to words and deep thoughts, to turn my back on precious children who are bound and determined to regale me with detailed descriptions of Earthworm Jim, but I am obviously not as clued-in as you are. I keep hoping that my firstpost will pop-up on the screen, or that I will suddenly feel comfortable and familiar with the strange laptop keyboard, so that I can type faster, with fewer errors. Yes, you probably can see what I cannot: It's time to call it quits, to set aside blogging and give it a rest already. There is no point in fighting the tide, in trying to reach for the Pulitzer, when I am destined for bathroom graffitti.

I'll try to save this post, such as it is, and maybe later I can say something pretty, and find a wifi spot, run spellcheck and post my deep thoughts and other musings. In the meantime, I am going to fold laundry. And if I cannot save this post, it might be for the best. Honestly.

A Day Closer to Grandma's House
Zoom, zoom, zoom, bumpity-bump. We are rolling up the miles, passing beautiful sights and keeping our eyes on the road. It kind of seems like no matter how far we've come, we still have a long way to go... that's how far mom and Ron live. We'll be with them tomorrow. It feels like my heart is there already, so it will be good to catch-up with myself, then be some help to Delia and Ron.

I don't know what else to say... all of our stories are from the inside of a crowded mini-van, driving up the 101 through the Central Coast, across the Golden Gate Bridge, through the Gateway to the Redwoods and here, our restop for the night: Fortuna. Fortuna. I think it sounds pretty and promising, and with that in my mind, I will say good night. The stories will have to wait, because I am road dizzy. Good night.

Uh. Here We Are.
We are sprawled all over our room, the Best of the West. Or Rest of the West. It'll do. Every door has a very legible, neat little notice that reads "No Pets." Do you think that includes livestock? What can I say we I am a rebel.

Tomorrow we will rise with the sun, or sooner, and continue north. Maria has already asked "How many minutes we at Grandma's?" And 20 minutes later, "I wanna go home now." We'll be on the road again by 6 a.m., which Geoff realized means 7 a.m., and from the backseat William wisely cracked, "So, 8:30 it is!"

Important note: Geoff checked the batteries of all those smoke alarms that never went off. Everything is supposedly in working order, but I say we need back-up. And I would just like to laugh-out-loud, because in 6 years of blogging that was my dear husband's first comment. A correction! Ah, but he's making it up to me by escorting us all the way to Oregon!

Well, it's time for lights-out and I don't want to miss my corner of the double bed, so I am signing off. Sweet dreams all.

High Speed Internet, How do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways...

In anticipation of being parted from my dear computer and all the fancy trimmings, I must make a long, long post.


To begin with I am filled and fortified... your kind comments and even phone calls have been so heartening. It's hard not being immediately by my mother's side and besides regular calls to her and talking to my brothers, it's been the thoughtfulness of friends and family, and the blogging community that have helped me remain calm, feel supported and keep things in perspective.

And I think the prayers and healing thoughts are doing a great deal of good. Delia's been taken out of ICU, and they are commencing physical therapy today. She has been fitted for a custom neck brace, and her husband is going through some lessons on how to help her. When I talked to her last night she was in good spirits. She had so many visitors! Bill (happy birthday bro!) Alison and Dominic, Hans, Becky, Dan and Grandmother... they were all there to visit and care for her. I think perhaps Ron got to have a bit of break too and that's good. Hans snapped a cell phone picture of himself and her... gee, it's been 37 years since the 2 of them were in a hospital together on a June 10th. They are smiling. I am relieved to know that she is recovering, but I feel such a lot of sadness knowing that there are going to be many hard days ahead. Healing is not always easy, and her injuries are significant. My poor mommy.


Who thinks Betty looks like she just stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl? She is so loopy and goofy looking.



Uh-oh. I think she heard me. Don't get your feathers ruffled Betty. We love you.

Meeting our obligations and getting everything in order is going fairly well, and I think the plan to be available for my mom on a longer term basis is a good one. Geoff has helped me finalize travel details and with a few more errands, meetings and adjustments, I should be traveling north very soon. My infamous tooth is messed up, but my dentist and I agree the cure can wait, so that is good news. Of course seeing the cost estimate for the next appointment did little to ease the pain. Insert nervous laughter here.


Gracious!
Amelia is a much better flyer than what we saw last week! She's a little too good. A little too cocky. The suspense is making me nuts. Do we have pullets?


Or do we have cockerels? Anyone? I've read dozens of articles online. Vent checks. Feather checks. What about spurs? Do hens have spurs? There are several accounts of hens that have spurs and even hens that will crow!


Are these spurs? Those 2 pale spots on her ankles...
I keep imagining all 3 of them are roosters for one reason or another, but there is no conclusive evidence.


Now this is conclusive. One of our tadpoles is a frog. A teeny, tiny hopper.


The journey began April 13th and we now have one tadpole turned frog success. The rest of the tadpoles are in varying stages of development. This has been such a fun experience. And educational too... for the children, of course. The frog swims to Max's hand and sits there. Must be love.


She said it was coming! She dropped hints and left clues!


Can anyone really be prepared for a gift from Calamity Kim? Her heart overflows, onto fabric, onto paper and right in to our home. We were flying high just anticipating the arrival of this latest chicky-apron. Leave it to Kim to send so much more. All of the little touches and sweet messages were the nicest boost to our morale. Honestly we all sat together enjoying the unveiling of each token of Kim's talent and imagination.


That's Pip, Lola and Lady Betty Oprpington sitting amongst the daisies. And the chicken wire panels are pockets. Maria found a message from Kim in 1 pocket. It fits beautifully. It looks delightful. Thank you Kim. You really do make the world a better place.

Well, all these links, the swiftness of the server, my iPhoto and the ease of Googling and searching... what bliss! These diversions and reflections are keeping me sane... lol! Computer and server, I love thee a Googolplex! I may just have time to post once more before we head north, and after that it could get sketchy. Thank you again for keeping us in your prayers, for generosity beyond compare. We are blessed in a Googolplexian ways.

Chickens Make Me Happy



A few years ago, missing our 2 acres and the 3 chicas we left behind, I decided to search the internet for other chicken bloggers. I Googled "chickens," "farmgirls," "cowgirls," and "garden loving, quilting, blogging women who miss their 2 acres and the chickens they left behind." I found so many lucky ladies, so many talented women, so many backyard hen farmers. It was sweet and sad. Makes me ashamed to admit, but I would pout and sigh and mumble, "They're living my life!" It's true. Sometimes I throw the saddest pity parties. But the sweet part kept me coming back for more and my appreciation and admiration grew.

I could not resist seeing what new ventures Farmgirl Susan and her sheep and chickens were up to. And I could practically smell good stuff coming out of her kitchen.


Then I would head over to "I Heart Small Farms" and posts like this would make me swoony and melancholy, and give me a yearning to know where and when and how I might find my way back to a garden of my own, to critters and free range hens. Other people's blogs open the world to me, and the best ones make me want to be better.


A good friend, smart and very well traveled, once said something like this: The highlight of any trip abroad is meeting someone from your own neighborhood. I love this. It rings so true and sweet. I remember when I was 10 years old and walking around in a tiny city in Central America. My brothers and I wandered into a barber shop, where an old (remember, I was 10) guy was enjoying a haircut. How did we figure out he was from the United States? I don't recall. But when we did figure out he was our compatriot, we were unmerciful. We could not be dissuaded from asking him everything under the sun about home. Even at my tender age I was aware that he was pestered by us, but it didn't matter... the 3 of us did our level best to get him all caught-up with our latest obsession. How could he not want us to tell him the entire plot of "Star Wars?" We were more than happy to reunite him with the bliss of American media and pop culture. OKay, maybe that isn't the best example of meeting someone from home while abroad, but it's the story I think of.


I think discovering some blogs is like traveling abroad and coming across someone that is just like me, or like the me I would like to be. I have had this lifetime of interests and quirks that I thought were mine alone, that I rarely shared anywhere or with anyone, and then in the blogosphere I kept encountering all of these people who were quirky like me. Frankly, I still find it shocking... not only are there other women who love aprons and vintage things, old sheets and mismatched dishes, crochet and patchwork, backyard hens, teacups, embroidery, taking pictures of anything and everything... not only was I finding people that shared all of these interests, passions and obsessions, but they were celebrating their interests. They are publishing, making, collecting, writing and enthusing their dreams and ideals. They are writing about creativity and conservation, about gardens and home schooling, about cooking and making and loving home and family.


Sometimes I feel like that 10 year old me, aching to connect with someone, anyone that speaks my language. Aching to share what I know, to point out how much we are alike. I feel that way when I visit "Posie gets cozy." It's like, "Hey, Alicia! I love what you do," and I am waving my arms in the air. "You and I have a lot in common. We could be friends!" I laugh out loud, because I recognize that yearning to feel connected and I know how funny it can seem too. So, when "Red Hen Studios" posts about old pillowcases and baby birds and boys and thrifting, I feel like I am visiting with a friend, a compatriot. I could say, "I like what you've done, and I've done something like that too," and she'd get it.

All those links in the sidebar lead to friends and strangers, and inspiration, to people who raise the bar, open doors, flip a switch and shine a light. The list keeps growing.

And truthfully, sometimes I still open a blog and sigh, she's living my life. I want so much and I want so little. I cannot apo