Asian sauce

This is a picture of few things that "St. Mama" put in or on a bowl full of sliced roasted almonds with cabbage, and several other things to make a salad for supper. These 3 items consist of 1): Sesame Seed Oil, 2):Chinese Rice Vineger, and 3): Soy Sauce. I don't know how or where she gets her ideas, but it turned out tasty. The point of the picture isn't how those three things wound up in the cabbage salad, but the point is how it wound up all over the kitchen counter, floor, and Emma's shirt.

First, as to the title of "St. Mama." We ate supper in a normal manner, but as we were cleaning up, things got a little wilder than usual, with me chasing kids around giving them "karate" chops on their "brain-o-melons" as we call their heads. My lovely and very calm wifey, so peaceful in her kitchen; trying desperately to ignore the chaos engulfing her as wildly raucous children escalate from "chopping" daddy back to getting wet hand towels and slapping (not snapping) them in each other's faces (and mine). The howling only got louder and louder until even I could not take it anymore and endeavored to calm them down. That was when it was when one of the girls made the motion to vote to change mama's name to ST. mama, "because the poor thing, she has 5 kids and no husband" Grrrrr.

But just as I thought I had a handle on things and they were beginning to settle down, Ems sees the mixing bowl that St. Mama mixed up the above concoction in, with a good 1/3 cup left over. For reasons inexplicable, (compulsive child) she very unwisely decides to pick this up and SWILL it! I watched without knowing what was going wrong; the first realization I had was when she instantly turned red, then gagged. For some reason, this caused some reaction in the back of her throat, and she literally blew ALL of it back out- except through her NOSE!!! If that is not gross to you, mix yourself up a little soy sauce, sesame seed oil and Chinese rice vinegar concoction and snort it up your nose; tell me what you think... About the only thing that could make it better would be fish sauce! ugh.

Just when I had them calmed back down, too. I've managed to banish them all to the basement for about an hour now; I'm hoping that they will wear themselves out sometime around my bedtime before I dare tell them it's their bedtime. Maybe if its late enough, I can feign sleep and let the only adult take care of the rest of the children in my house.

for Jeremiah, the son I do not know.

People who have stayed overnight at my house have wondered aloud why I check on my children every night before I go to bed, even though I put them there, and I have been within 20 linear feet of that same door that I shut since I put them there. My only answer is a question: "Ever lose one?"

This time of year is a torment of emotions for me. I have a birthday of my oldest son to celebrate. I have a feast of Thanksgiving to celebrate. I have the anniversary of our marriage to celebrate. And I have the anniversary of my son Jeremiah's death to mourn. Sometimes one outweighs the rest of these.

Can I be honest? This is the only thing in my life that will bring me close to tears. In the midst of reminiscing about the last 12 years on our anniversary, Wifey brought it up and it almost ruined my otherwise incredibly good day.

If you don't already know, it was about 6 years ago that we lost a baby well into the pregnancy. I am not good at remembering the details, and frankly, I don't have the guts to ask my wife. All I know is that he was a boy, his name was Jeremiah, and I got a call from my wife in tears after a pre-natal check-up to tell me that he no longer had a heartbeat; and we were scheduled to go to the hospital and deliver our dead baby. After having 3 relatively easy births, I remember thinking that this whole thing was impossible; I didn't understand how someone could be expected to have to deal with this. To deliver a dead baby... the horror of it. It was just so overwhelming. Also, we were desperately trying to finish our new house to get moved into, as we had already sold our other, so we had plenty of stress to deal with besides.

When I got the phone call, I had two friends there working with me, Jeremy and Paul, helping build the stairs down to the basement.

After I hung up with my tearful wife, and I don't know why I remember this so clearly, but I remember turning away from my friends, staring at the grey concrete wall; embarrassed to show such emotion as I explained the details of the phone call with my back to them. I don't remember anything else after that.

It seems strange even to me, even through my own perspective, that it should still matter so much to me, that I don't know this son that I lost; this son I do not know. Maybe because I see it as a failure of the most basic of Fatherly duties; to shield, defend, and protect from physical harm. I will have a few things to say to this son when he and I meet:

"You are loved." I miss you; you, whom I do not know. You would fit in here. You would like us. You would belong. You would be "us."

"Who are you?" As I watch my other sons morph from babies to toddlers, to little kids, to bigger kids, and then hopefully into the young men that they will be, it makes me wonder who you would be. I have a peacemaker, and I have a fighter; how would you fit into this? Even as I write this, I realize that simple math dictates that if we hadn't lost Jeremiah, we wouldn't have our youngest.

"why me?" Not "why me" as in: why did this happen to me; but why me, as in why does this affect me so much? I am the very model of that callous, unfeeling alpha male that can blow off anything once I just decide to. I don't have any hang-ups. I almost don't have any feelings at all; just impulses. Why not my wife, who is the very model of that loving tender caring mother figure, especially of tiny infants and small children?

"Thank you." I cannot possibly imagine a worse way of learning it, but through this I have learned things about myself and about God that I wouldn't otherwise know. I could explain this, but it would take days and days and pages and pages. I am, and will be forever, a different person because of you.

"I'm Sorry" I know that I get a "pass" on some of this stuff, but I am truly sorry that I couldn't protect you. I am your Daddy, that's what Daddies do. I am also sorry for actually saying out loud in front of people after discovering that we were expecting, that I didn't want a fourth child. What a truly horrible thing to say about a person, much more about your own son; even if I didn't truly mean it. How many times have I regretted saying that? If I could only take that back... I am so ashamed, and justly so.

And lastly:

"You're my favorite; don't tell the others." (Reference to another post.)

I have a favorite cast iron skillet in our kitchen, it is a #8 Griswald, which, inexplicably, is a 9" skillet. I've done a little research and I've learned that it is anywhere from 85 to 100+ years old. It isn't much to look at, but the cooking surface is worn smooth as glass by many years of steel flippers turning pancakes, eggs, frying chicken, stirring sausage gravy, browning ham steaks, and more recently, stir-fry. Scraping, scraping, until the surface is worn perfectly smooth, much smoother than anything you could buy new. I liken my life to that skillet; the older I get, the rougher I look because the use of the skillet is abrasive, but I hope that the constant scraping will smooth out the inside until polished enough that the Chief Cook can see His reflection in me. It is no easy thing to have your heart shaped, bent, or scraped by God.

I am somewhat horrified that I have written this deeply personal stuff to share, especially as a blog; it seems even to me a horrible place to vent. I don't even have a good reason for doing it, except maybe for something of a tribute to Jeremiah. I am a private person; I don't tell just anyone how I am doing, even when asked. I don't go on to people how busy I am, or how overwhelmed I am, or sad, or whatever, etc. I really don't know why I wrote this, I just started writing, and know don't know what else to do with it, so I guess I will post it.

Two things I wanna make especially clear about this post. Firstly, this is not a cry for help. Secondly, no, I do not want to talk about it. Wanna say something? Leave a comment...

Its just taken me about six years to turn back around from staring at the grey concrete wall.

business part of KC trip '11

Monday we were packed up and out of the Hotel before 7:00. Herself made the comment that I was "out of Slow mode, and into Go mode." Good thing, too; I was to pick up my trailer at a place called Holt's Summit, which turned out to be what would be about 3 hours the other side of KC to most drivers. Let's just say that I have mutant powers of shaving off time from traveling. 'nouf said. It was further than expected, but still quite worth going to go get.

We picked up the trailer and made good time doing it. We made it home through some very intense rain which obviously had started just the other side of Reno county, although we are very grateful for the .5" that we got. I'm sure that just north of Wichita they got several inches, just looking at the fields swimming in water. Yes, I'm jealous...

We had one very close call on the interstate highway where some dude went sideways and crashed into another car in front of us and we almost couldn't get it shut down in time, but we had good rubber and good brakes, and God was gracious to us.

So good to be home! One of the best things of the whole trip was that we found out when we got most of the way back home was that our eldest had thrown up 5 times that night before, and the youngest once!

How sweet was that? Nice timing, Huh? Way to go, kids; do that stuff when you are at Gran's house!!! I'm typing this Tuesday morning, after a nice full night's (for me, anyway) peaceful sleep. Thanks to everybody that made this fun trip possible; all you Sitters of Kids!

I'm just throwing in this pic because Herself loves these tile steps for some reason; they do look cool when you look up at them, there are about a hundred of them probably.

KC trip Sunday '11

At the swanky hotel we stayed in, we were among the select few that have certain privileges; we have access to the "Club Lounge" on the top floor where we and all the other "quality" people stayed. That way we didn't have to go down stairs and rub elbows with the Great Unwashed in the (and I shudder when I say it) the Lobby. Ugh. The Club Lounge was nice; but the nicest thing about it was the server; Monique. She is an African-American gal, about my age, maybe older, and very friendly, with a touch of southern lilt, not enough to identify from where she was from, just enough to give her the atmosphere of being from somewhere that Truly Knows About Hospitality.

Now it is my inclination when thrust into a social situation that I feel that I am out of my element to pull a mean face, scowl quite a bit, and act irritated that I seem to be the only deserving person around and all these other people don't really deserve to around me, but Monique warmed me up out of that. Her job was to be hostess to us important VIP guests of the top floors, where she offered free foods and drinks. She pulled it off quite well, and is so friendly that Wifey and I instantly hit it off with her, even though we know that she probably hits it off with nearly everyone.

Sunday morning I woke up the usual time for me; 4:00, except it was really 3:00 AM this day (the Lord's Time, as Charlie Palmetier would have said, who didn't believe in or use DST) . Since Herself hasn't historically appreciated being awakened when I do; and most likely especially on a day where we have nearly nothing planned, I wisely don't wake her, and go downstairs to the weight room and work out for an hour or so and still have plenty of time to kill before Herself wakes up. I go to the entirely empty "exclusive" 18th floor lounge and begin cleaning up my rough draft of Saturday's blog for a while when Monique comes in to prepare the mornings offerings.

She is obviously not a morning person, so after exchanging the perfunctory "Good mornings", she turns the Lounge TV on to a TV Preacher and really blasts it! Remember, this is all at around 5:something AM, when in stumbles a large man, whom, I'm guessing in

retrospect, hasn't yet been to bed. He's looking for breakfast, and it isn't ready yet. I can't really hear the words; I'm engrossed in my blog, and sitting 3 feet away from the blasting TV preacher at the computer, but I can tell he is getting ugly. As I turn, stand, and focus, I hear Monique; I hear the experienced voice of someone who deals with belligerent drunks on a near daily basis. She rebuked him in her very firm and polite voice that clearly (but still politely) informed him that he was being very disrespectful, rude, and that he can keep his tip wherever he wanted to; that God had blessed her beyond what she needed, and that she wasn't dependent upon anyone but Him for her sustenance. And that guy that made 3 of her beat it right out of the room. She just looked at me, with one hand on hip and other hand stretched out, palm up; very cool and dignified, raised an eyebrow and said in her accented whispery soprano: "Can you believe that man? He interrupted my CHURCH!"

I just wish I could phonetically spell out the scandalized intonation she had in her voice... She called security told him what happened and the manager came up and told us that the drunk dude went down to the lobby (shudder; that's how drunk he was!) and made a fuss down there about her being rude and not serving him breakfast (an hour before it was supposed to be served). He had even included how scandalized and incensed the other gentleman (me?) in the room was as well. I told the security guy exactly what happened and made sure that I laid it on thick about how professionally Monique had responded and impressed I was with the good job she was doing, etc. For the rest of our trip, we had the inside line on anything we wanted from the Hotel! If we asked for 1 of anything, we got 2 or 3 of whatever it was! She hovered over our table; it was as if we were her personal guests, and again we were her favorites. Speaking of which, brings me to a sign I saw at a Plaza shop that reminded me of a recent blog posting:

Anyway, that's about the most remarkable thing that happened to me Sunday, that I can blog about anyway. We didn't even go out for lunch Sunday, we had gone to Dean & DeLuca Saturday and stocked up on bread, olives, hummus, crackers, specialty cheeses, tapenades, little red peppers stuffed with cheese wrapped in prosciutto, etc. In other words, food so rich it would choke a horse. Yum. We had never been before, and it was cool and all, mostly because the old guy doing the cheese samples was quite engaging and very knowledgeable about his cheeses. He could have been Mr. Bloom's (last blog) brother. But we decided that while it had good "atmosphere" it didn't have even as much selection as our Dillon's in Maize that we go to sometimes when we go out on a date, and much cheaper at Dillon's, too. (Yeah, I know, awesome, huh?! Take her to Dillon's for a date?? Oh, Yeah! that's how I roll!) But we didn't have Reward Card's for Dillon's; we had them for Dean & DeLuca.

Here is a picture of my particular friend

Here is a picture of my particular friend at Fogo de Chao: you know, the one with the lamb. Notice his look of delight at getting rid of his burden. You can tell we were hitting it off quite well.

Saturday, we went to City Market; this is a terrible picture, I don't know why I didn't take another picture of where all the vendors were, but this is how it looks when you first see it...
Mr. Bloom would make a great Dickens character. Very personable, we remembered him from last year. He tells you all about his baked goods, and guesses what he thinks you would like while giving out samples with occasional outbursts of "FRESH BREAD, GET YOUR FRRRRREEE SAMPLES RIIIIGHT HERE!!! FRESH BREAD!!!" as other people pass by. Wifey and I find it refreshing to find people who are really proud of what they do and are confident that you will enjoy and appreciate it as much as they do.
Brynn really liked these apple things. They are apple slices arranged to look floral-y-ish on a crust.
This Italian grocery store was a little more my speed. Whole barrels of olives!! thas wat I'm talking about!
This was almost an assault to the olfactory nerves. This picture doesn't even do it justice; there was more spices than you could imagine. All for a dollar a scoop! Really cheap for spices. Quite cool to see the riot of colors!
Then after the City Market, we went to an exotic place full of wonder and delight. It's called "Target." Its a magical place where they have things like, say, underwear, and shorts, and toothbrushes or other sundry items that someone may forget on an out of town trip. These things that they sell aren't unlike or dissimilar to anything that they sell on the Plaza, but the real magic is this: They cost a third or a even fraction as much at this magical store!!!

From there we went to a movie called "Courageous." Its a good movie, and that's all I will say about it, other than I'm glad that people out there are trying to make a difference in the world. I hate to be so "ho-hum" about it, but when you had a dad that deliberately exemplified those things, and the importance of passing them on, you don't so much thrill at seeing it taught in the theater. It really was good though. But it takes more than that to jerk tears from this hill-billy.

Saturday night was really fun, too. We decided that we were actually going to spend some money and go to a Tapas Restaurant. If you dont know what that is, click here. We decided upon La Bodega; Here is their Menu; it is worth looking at. We couldn't find coupons for it, so we decided to just go anyway. While we were eating, we overheard our neighbors talking about the "happy hour" menu prices. We had looked, and thought that there was no happy hour menu on Saturday. Brynn encouraged me to ask about it, so when we got the check I did. Our server informed us that we came too late; OK, no big deal. She came back in a few, and informed us that we did come in a few minutes before six, and we should have been able to order from that menu, so the manager gave her permission to discount EVERY thing we ordered by HALF! even though we ordered virtually nothing from the Happy Hour menu!! She got a good tip from us!

Sunday, we plan on Going Nowhere and Doing Nothing; something pretty much unheard of by Herself and me in darned close to 12 years of marriage. We are going to try relaxing. All day long. Try it anyway; we both get restless and feel the need to go do something outside most of the time. If it works, there won't be much to blog about...

Food, Fun, and not Fighting (in that order)

This is the weekend that we have designated to be our FF&nF weekend, where we take a trip to anywhere, sometimes with friends, sometimes without, find awesome food, hang out, and you know; not fight. Not that we spend a lot of time fighting, but I want to make for sure that we have a time and place that Wifey and I can connect and just be together without interruption. It is funny how many times you can be interrupted with the same question when you have 4 kids. You wouldn't think more than 4, right? Wrong. But the irritation level increases each time you get asked "Daddy, can we watch a Movie?", until usually the last one comes in and it FEELS like you have been asked 12 times, and the poor little fella gets unloaded on, when in truth it may have been the first time he asked anything.

Anyway, I have spent the last two weeks working on making things run smoothly at work so that I can take 2 days off for a long weekend in KC with my little wifey. We are packed and ready to go; the kids are packed, and bouncing off the walls. I walk outside and as the sun comes up, I see it is the first hard frost of the year. How sweet is it that I actually get to be here for this event, instead of at work for hours before anyone notices that it happened; it is much less cool at my office. Anyway, after we boys remove shirts and walk around in this amazing reflecting crystally wonderland, we finish hugging/kissing/I-love-you-ing-the-kids/loading and shove off. In my mind this Frost is momentous, foretelling good things to come for our weekend.

We kick off our week end of Food, Fun and not Fighting with a stop in Topeka at the TupTimThai restaurant; one of my favorite Thai places. I love me some Thai Red Curry and peanut sauce! I get the "Hot" rather than the "Thai Hot" and then I can add my own spicy pepper oils, red peppers, etc off of their condiment tray. I like to get it just right, where I can just barely stand it; then I wolf it down quickly, because it tastes SOO good, and it hurts SOO bad if you stop. Then I kick back and get "buzzed" as the endorphins kick in. I know, its pretty weird if you aren't a spicy food aficionado, but you know what? I've heard that some people go out and RUN for several miles in order to get their endorphin fix, and that seems pretty crazy to me!

Part of the fun of this trip is that we are doing it on the cheap. I use my Citi Credit Card quite a bit for my work related purchases, so I accumulate a lot of reward points. I can use those for flights (which I don't need to get to KC), Hotels, and gift cards for various things. I booked the hotel in the plaza, and Wifey got online and found several restaurants that we could use reward points for, so we don't have to use any money out of pocket. Coupled with the fact that I am picking up a trailer east of KC Monday in order to save 300.00 shipping, I feel pretty darned good about the amount of money coming out of my pocket for this trip.

Friday night we went to a "Authentic Southern Brazilian Steakhouse" called Fogo de Choa where you go help yourself to the salad bar (not bad) but the real deal is they have the chefs dressed in Brazilian Cowboy (Gauchos? I think) garb with great hunks of meat on skewers wandering around each with one of 15 different styles of meat that they will carve off of their roast and onto your plate. These guys seem as if they are desperate to get rid of the awful burden of these chunks of meat and gladly express their appreciation of your help in getting rid of it. My favorite was by far the lamb; and the chef was so pleased that he had someone that would relieve him of his burden every time he walked by. You could really tell I was his favorite customer. I really broke some personal rules of eating at this place; I quite overate. We have this thing about eating; we love food, not eating. It kind of makes a difference, if you know what I mean; it keeps me from ballooning. But there are a few things that I just do not have access to, but lamb is just so expensive, even unprepared, and most of the time the cooks don't know what they are doing and it "ain't for eating" by the time they get it done. Which is why most of the time people say they don't like lamb. Don't blame the lamb! Look at their little lamby eyes, they just want you to eat and enjoy it!

I am posting from Hotel Lounge computer at 4:00 (I get strange looks from staff) and smart phone, so I will have to figure out how to post some actual camera pictures later. Saturday we will go to the City Market, a farmer's market kind of place that had coffee shops, bakeries, grills, middle eastern food, and big barrels of spices for sale, cheap. We went last year, but it was during the week and they weren't open, we are headed back!

Brynn always wanted a room that had a balcony that we could actually go out onto:

Here is our view from our balcony. I had to call the hotel staff prior to trip and ask them if they had a room on the top floor that had balcony access with a view of a construction project; they were very helpful!

37th birthday boy!

Ahhh, birthdays! I never was that enamored with Birthdays growing up or as an adult, but my wife has always held that they are a time to be indulged and pampered. Generous of her to do that for someone that is indifferent to it (my own, and sometimes hers as well-ouch!); but I admit the idea is growing on me. Unfortunately, that is probably a testament to my getting older and slowing down, as is my accumulating birthdays, 37 of them as of yesterday. It was a particularly sweet birthday on a Saturday, when the kids are all around to worry about me, if I am getting enough attention, to make sure this is the best birthday ever. 
Wifey fried up a mess of fried chicken, one of my birthday favorites. I had a memory brought on by a Facebook family member wishing me well of sharing my birthday meal with my Great Grandmother, on whose 80th birthday I was born. Fried Chicken, of course.
       I can see how being a Provider-Dad makes gift giving for children complex. Especially if I don't have a great deal of needs or hobbies that I can't afford. Or at all.  If I need something; I go get it. Period. Because I needed it. So it makes it difficult for children to find things that daddy wanted or needed for presents, especially in the $4.00 to $5.00 range. They did pull off some pretty good stuff this year, though. What is most fun for me though, is the stuff that I don't "need", which is the stuff that only really matters: The cards, the hugs, the kisses, the furtive looks of sneakiness while running through the room to find more tape to wrap some extra, last minute present. All the affection directed straight at ME! The adoring looks with puppy dog eyes BEGGING me to let them make cookies for me. (Thank you, Lord. I am so blessed.)
       Soon on this birthday, I determined that I was going to connect with each of my children in a real way. (and Wifey, as well, hopefully) I had great fun being the nice dad that lets Grace make peanut butter cookies for me. I told her that I would help her; well, she certainly didn't need MY help. She just needed my stamp of approval, and I so enjoyed seeing her bustle around the kitchen with much like her mama's efficiency, while talking to her.
     Emma helped me clean out my pick-up, something that only happens to one of my vehicals when I sell it or take Wifey on a long weekend, which I am getting ready to do both. I got it really sparkling clean; first time in 2 1/2 years. She so enjoys helping; but where we really connected was when we were done cooking supper and snacks, she was responsible for cleaning up because she got really carried away with the flour (covered, actually, and everything around her-"Because it was FUN, daddy".) and I helped her clean up the huge mess. Emma will always be that friend to others, she is often the cohesive factor between others who don't get along so well.
       Stu wanted to build a house out of blocks. So we dragged all the blocks out of his bedroom and into the living room, and I started building the "WORLD'S TALLEST TOWER" as I always say in my big loud voice whenever I am about to do something really epic, like make a whole-pan sized pancake. You know, "THE WORLD'S LARGEST PANCAKE!!!!" I don't know, it works for the kids; they like me. Well Stu didn't want to build it on top of the trunk, he wanted to build it on the floor. So I put the blocks on the floor, and while I started doing it, I made a big show of how sad it made me. Pretty soon his lower lip sticks out and he looks like he's about to cry. When I asked him what the matter was, he replied: "It makes me really sad that you can't build it on the trunk!" I asked him if he was sad enough to let me build it on the trunk, and he broke out into a sob and said: "NOOOOOOOOOOO!" At that point he stopped crying, because I burst out in laughter...
     Isaiah is easy to connect with. He is sooo sincere; he expects everyone else to be as well. All you have to do is sit down with him and look him in the eyes and tell him several things about him that you appreciate and you can see him soaking it up. He acts cool, though, which I appreciate as well. He says, "I don't know why your always telling me all that stuff. I don't see how I am all that special" And then I tell him he is my favorite kid. And he believes me, because it is true. But the main thing is this. I want each of them to know in their hearts that he/she is my favorite. That's right- Each one is my favorite. I tell them all, too. I don't know if it is right or wrong, but when one of them ask me which one I like the best, I only have one answer: "You are, but don't tell the others!" None of this "I love you all the same" stuff, or "I love you all so much I can't tell". Just "You are, don't tell the others". They may all grow up all messed up in the head, but that is how I feel. 

      As I contemplate the wealth of God's blessings that He has lavished upon me; some in the form of those He has put in my care, it becomes very obvious to me that I am God's favorite, as well. Each one of us.

Christ Returneth!

This morning about 20 minutes ago (4:30 am), the Lord gave me a little something in the way of a foretaste of his triumphant return. Both Brynn and I were laying in bed asleep, when we were both awakened by a mighty trumpet blast that filled the room and yet wasn't from the room. I lay still for a moment as this sound continued; in wonder, then my heart leapt! What else could this be? Christ Returneth! Hallelujah! As I continue to lay there, though, it became obvious as I became more awake that it was (oddly enough) only a train. I've lived here for six years, and slept with the windows open plenty, and can still recollect about 2 times that I could ever even HEARD the train at all, much less have it wake us both up (with windows down, no less). It is depressing to sit in front of my computer, in my freshly 37-year-old un-perfected form, with my joints and back aching, fresh from lying still for 6 hours in my bed. God's creation, THIS creation, this cracked vessel, me, cries out for Christ's return. But I think of those I know, who don't know him, I realize that my desires are selfish; that tarrying is an act of mercy. Lord, come quickly; thank you for your mercy of not coming quickly.

actually, they are muscles...

Stu says, as I am lifting something on behalf of the girls that looks incredibly heavy to a 4 year old: "Those big fat arms he's got? They are ACTUALLY muscles!

So it isn't that uncommon in this part of Kansas to have to wonder if the frost will get your lilac buds before the holiday.  More commonly, though, it is Easter your wondering if you will have lilacs for; not Halloween!  Never seen this one before; lilacs trying to bloom in mid-October?  What a year- I guess the lack of water has everything really confused.

Yeah, well so I haven't blogged in about 5 months; I've been busy.  We have ALL been very busy actually, our summer was consumed by having the usual additional bunch of in-laws staying at the Foster Farm-let for several months; a fun but exhausting time, even if they weren't staying in our actual house with us.  Its pretty tough to be that uptight guy all the time in the middle of a bunch of really laid back people; most of whom are retired, currently unemployed, or on some sort of furlough.  Anyway, they all have more leisure time than I do, and if there is one thing besides my family that I am willing bare my teeth and rip out throats for, it is my personal space and privacy. But we made it through it, and due to the advent of an oversees marriage of one of them, it will make for a very small Christmas this year here in the States.  I am planning on sending Wifey over to see it, but am struggling to decide whether I am going or not, mostly because it hasn't exactly been a stellar year financially, due largely to the fact that nobody realizes they need gutters if it doesn't ever rain!
 
 But anyway, lest I sound bitter, I'll move on.  Again we have been VERY busy lately, and didn't ever take any time off work for family vacation time, so in an effort to rectify that we decided to take a series of mini-vacations and do some fun stuff without so much hullabaloo.  Yesterday we went to Kanopolis lake with my sister and her not unsubstantial family.  Very good to catch up and see their kids growing up and interact with them as adults or near to it.

   Wifey and I did find a little time here and there to work in a project or two.  Here is one that I am quite pleased with, although I sure had serious doubts about it all the way through it until it was truly competed:  My first ever chair remodel.  Wifey had been talking about it for a while, and so after coaxing (she should write a book on "How To Get Your Husband To Do Things He Doesn't Want To Without Making Him Feel Nagged" - I still don't know exactly how she pulled it off) I undertook the project as if it were my own.









Here are "before" pictures; you can't really see how  threadbare it is.
She kept telling me: "I reeeeeaaally want this to be good and I just need you to do it so that it looks good."  Stroke, Stroke; Niiiiiice husband!  NICE husband...

And "After" pictures

But it was fun to see her get excited and say "oh wow, this is going to be soooo cool!"  I kept telling her to calm down, because it was probably going to turn out awful, don't get your hopes up, we haven't even got to the hard part yet, etc. But overall, I'm pleased with the end result.
    Other than that, it doesn't feel like I got a lot of stuff done this summer; I did take advantage of the dryness to dig out our pond some; I took the CTL and shaved off the banks in order to make it a little more "beachy" and less "banky" so that the kids could get in without jumping in.
   Ahh, Fall! The Advent of Cooler Weather!!! So glad to see it in so many ways. Monday, Stu-Jack and I took our little pigs to the market.

Since he isn't officially in school, he got to do the ride along, and instantly decided that we had certainly better stop for doughnuts, as that was good and right.  I shouldn't worry about him eating too much doughnut, though, I found half of it in crumbs under his car seat the next day.

   Anyway, that's about the synopsis of our summer, and I'm looking forward to cutting some wood this fall and clearing some more pasture.

Mother's Day, Easter

Stu-Jack has been feeling very inferior lately. For example, Saturday before Easter, I was cooking breakfast for the kiddos, and here he comes, all dejected, head down and shoulders slumped. I asked him what was wrong. He replied: "I not very smart at Easter, I didn't even know we get baskets and hide eggs. I just not very smart at Easter." Poor little guy...

So for Mother's Day, Brynn asked for me to build another level onto the tree fort. Awesome of her, huh? Now that's a gift I can get into; she even helped me on Sunday. It took me longer than I thought, probably because everything is getting higher up now. Here is a picture of the improved fort:

I built the solid fence around it with a ladder on the inside with a trap door in the floor, because it has been increasingly obvious that Stu is a little psycho that has no fear at all. He could hardly be contained from getting on the top deck when I had just 3 boards screwed on. Finally I consented to allow him coming up, as long as he was on his bottom. He promptly scooted (on his bottom) over to the edge and dangled his legs over. Then, when I had the floor completed, and one 2x4 around the edge, he came up and hung his little body over the edge, just hanging on to the board I had just screwed on. I grabbed him and dragged him back inside the railing and asked him if that was scary, he just looked puzzled and told me not really. Should have named him Sean, I guess...
Then as a side note, Stu wanted to make Wifey a Mother's Day card. I wrote while he dictated: "Dear Momma, I love you very much; thank you for all that you do, like make food. I love you. And chicken, yeah, I love chicken, too! Yum" Which sums him up pretty well; Momma and food, not necessarily in that order.

Then, unrelated to Mother's day, we had some good friends over for supper on Saturday that were gracious enough to be our guinea pigs and let us try out Beef Wellington on them. It went OK, but I overcooked the tenderloin, so it wasn't nearly as pink as it should have been...

Wifey also got a necklace from our girls with lots of pretty beads with some that spelled "Momo" in the middle, "because they didn't have any A's." Heh, I love having kids!

one more reason to hate possums

Here is the last picture taken of the Valdois car. Arianna rolled it last Thursday night around 10:30 on her way home from work when she swerved to miss a possum driving on 96 highway at 70 plus MPH. I know, I know! To quote the Highway Patrolman, he said: "You swerved to MISS a possum? Don't you know you are supposed to run those buggers over?!" Luckily, she was unhurt, (wearing her seat belt), but the car was of course in pretty bad shape; the other side was a lot worse. The worst thing is, however, now there is a possum running around out there with an inflated sense of its own toughness. I can hear the stupid thing now, bragging to all its friends. "Did you see that? One look at me and that car just rolled over and played dead!"

Arianna: 0

Possums: 1

Our little secret...

We have been recently quite irritated by Stu waking up Wifey in the early hours of the morning to : "Mama! Cover me up!" He insists that he can't do it himself, and frankly it is easier sometimes just to do it, than listening to him squawk about it, waking everybody else up. So, last Wednesday night, home late from bible study, I was helping a Very Sleepy Stu get into P.J.'s. He remarks several times during this process that he is very tired and he wants to get into bed. We finish getting him "pajamma-fied" and he crawls into bed and pulls his covers up neatly over him. Seeing this, I can't help but bust his chops a little. I said "how come you can pull your covers up over yourself so well, but at 2:00 in the morning you have to come and wake up your mama to do it?!?!?" He smiles sleepily, and with half closed eyes tells me conspiratorially, "It'll just be our little secret, Daddy." Turkey!!!

clever Gracie

Talking around the table after the afore mentioned corned beef, Grace was coming to the realization that her daddy wasn't the lumbering giant she always thought I was. She asked if I was sorry that I was short, and I replied "I need some sort of adversity in my life; if I were as tall as I am good-looking, I wouldn't fit in the house." She thought about it briefly and replied: "if you were really as tall as you are good-looking I've sure seen you when you should be really short!!"
That is a ZINGER! Not bad for a 10 year old. Thanks, Gracie; so sometimes I'm dirty when I get home. I sure hope that's what she is talking about...

cute chicks!!

Speaking of meat, here are yesterday's new arrivals. (03/23/11, it helps me remember when to butcher)
Its not all I think about, but, you know. And its something that Wifey and I like to do together, which there are not that many things that we share creative interest in. Thinking about food is one of them- butchering food is not.
The one little chick closest to the bottom looked sick, so I gave him a poke. He woke abruptly and said: "CHEEP!!, CHEEP-CHEEP!!!" Apparently, he was only sleeping, but the girls just thought it was hilarious; just a little bit ago, I heard them in their beds saying"CHEEP!!, CHEEP-CHEEP!!!" Then giggles all around....

corned beef

Here is a picture of a little something that we ate this week. I love me some corned beef, and after digging through the freezer first part of this month long enough to find some choice roasts and brisket, Wifey and I whipped up brine enough to immerse 15-20 pounds of beef for several weeks in it, and my Mother-in-law was gracious enough to cook it along with the obligatory cabbage and potatoes. Probably one of my favorite dishes, even though my ancestry is overwhelmingly more Scottish than Irish, probably because of my natural common sense rebels at the thought of Haggis, though I would like to try it once in my life.

The brine is pretty simple, though, its just the planning ahead part and the fridge space that is difficult. I did inject the brine into it, which was my own idea; don't know if that was right or wrong. The only thing that we had to buy specifically was the Prague Pink Curing Salt, which I guess accounts for the red look to the obviously well done meat.

I confess I cheated on this one though, my dad raised the meat... It's WAY easier!!!

my recipe for ham...

I had a successful attempt at cooking food today, and I want to share it with the world, and chronicle it for my own future use, as I am terrible at remembering stuff like this. The above ham was prepared by Yours Truly. Let me give a little rundown of some of the details:

1. stake out area not too close to house
2. buy 10 hog panels and 100 bond-beam concrete blocks
3. buy 2 piglets
4. feed and water piglets
5. repeat #4 every day for five-six months.
6. butcher big hogs
7. put room temperature ham in smoker around 7:00 am before church
8. provide enough smoke for about 3 to 4 hours
9. continue to cook at 225 degrees, but after 5 hours, cover with foil, *note: ham was at 140 degrees
10. continue to cook at 225 degrees for 3 more hours, *note: ham was at 160 degrees
11. continue to cook at 225 degrees for 1 more hour, * note: ham was at 170 degrees
12. feed to children in order to get this look here:

So, as you can see, with only 12 simple steps (and about 6 months), you too could have a delicious ham for supper! While there could be much debate wheather or not I cooked it too long, smoked it too much or not enough, the end result is that my family tore into it.

I'll be perfectly honest, part of the reason I'm writing this is to gloat a little about something that most people couldn't care less about: (so I'm hoping it won't come across as too offensive), the whole backyard to table food source thing, you know. Its just a lot of fun for me; I'm just sorry I'm off my feed enough to not want to eat much tonight. From what the kids and Wifey says, I think it was a success.

stout fella-ism

I once read a book called "Beau Geste" that is a young adult novel written about three brothers that join the Foreign Legion. It was a great story; full of adventure and suspense, and it was written in 1924, I think, so it is full of things that our society no longer emphasizes: namely, manly character traits like loyalty, fidelity, and in general "doing the honorable thing." In other words, things that Godly men should exhibit. I would say that it helped shape my childhood, but I was an adult, married with children by the first time I read it; my mother-in-law recommended it to me.
In this book, the youngest brother at an early age, exhibits one of these manly character traits that was thought to be beyond his age, and his brothers praise him for being a "Stout Fella." For some reason, that really stuck with me, so that is a phrase we use in our own house.
This is something that I desire for my own boys; it has nothing to do with size or shape of my sons, only to be courageous in facing difficultly, to be decisive, to be honorable, to be selflessly trust worthy to their peers. I use that phrase to describe them, to praise them when I see them behaving in a way that I want to reinforce. The other day I was so impressed with something Isaiah did (sadly don't even remember what it was) that I was praising him for it. After the hugging and backslapping was over, I felt a tug on my pants, I looked down to see Stu looking up at me earnestly. He said "am I a 'tout fella, too, daddy?" Yes, Stu, you are certainly on your way to "stout-fella-hood". I can't wait to unleash the arrows from my quiver on the world.

I thought a couple of pictures of them would be appropriate for time stamp...

I like this one for Stu, he's a blur most of the time, anyway. The only way you can get him to hold still for a picture is to get everyone to laugh at him, even if what he is doing isn't funny, he will maintain it until the laughter stops.
Here is Isaiah, number 3 kid, and number one Cracker-Boy, the sincere, Stout-fella child.

re-organizing my life...

Upon completion of afore mentioned shed, the next logical step (and winter indoor project) seems to be to drag all of my stuff from my basement that would be normally kept in a garage or a shed, and put it all into my shed, now that I have one. This seems to me a very overwhelming task; I have a lot of stuff in my basement, my garden shed, and just sort of stored at my shop at work. It is pretty intimidating to believe that I can actually get all of my tools in one place at one time in an organized manner.





The first step was to build a small room inside the shed and insulate it well enough that I could keep it just slightly above freezing for my paints, etc, that I don't want frozen. Here is a photo of that:

After that was complete, the next step was obviously to bring all the paint, and liquids, etc, up and shelve them into my little paint room; none of this was that big of a deal, just labor dragging buckets of liquids up from the basement, the perfect chore for my little cheerful minions -er, children.

What has been really overwhelming, though, is the re-organizing of all my tools! When I brought everything up and into the shed, and had everything spread out in order to "take stock" of what we had, Wifey and I recollected that when we were first married we had no outdoor storage, and no basement to put tools in, so we squirreled my stuff into a little space in our "Honeymoon Cottage" to put my tools into, and it took up maybe 4 square feet of floor space- total! It pretty much consisted of a tiny air compressor, a sawsall, and one finish nailer. Here is a photo of the beginnings of my new and improved highly organized tool life:

Now the thing that blows me away is the expense of disorganization. If I could refund at full price every tool that I have in duplicate (or more) I could have built a shed to keep them in. That may be something of a hyperbole, but you get the idea. I won't bore anybody with anything close to a detailed list of total inventory, but I will give you a quick rundown on some of the more ridiculous items:

• 7 caulking guns
• 6 chalk boxes
• 6 bottles of chalk (one is 1/2 gallon)
• 15 pairs of tin snips
• maybe 10 partial rolls of tape; duct, masking, electrical
• 4 multi-meters
• 5 framing squares
• 2 Sheetrock squares
• 8 putty knives
• 5 partial little propane torch bottles
• 8 utility knives
• 7 pipe wrenches, 4 of which are 16"
• dozens of tape measures
• hundreds of PVC fittings
• dozens of blue plastic electrical boxes
• hundreds of shotgun shells I didn't know that I had
• dozens of pliers
• dozens and dozens of screwdrivers, 20+ of which are still in the package
• 3 pneumatic finish nailers
• 3 angle grinders
• 6 or so partial cans of WD-40 or P-B Blaster
• 6 or so partial cans of starting fluid
• 4 partial cans of wasp spray
• 4 partial gallons of antifreeze
• new saw blades I didn't know that I had
• 7 cordless drills

Now, as embarrassing as all this is, I have to defend myself somewhat and say that some of this stuff isn't really my fault- I have a nasty habit of loaning things out to people and forgetting about it, and then when I need something, I cant find it, so what else am I to do? Buy another one of course; then when it shows back up, I have multiples! I have also learned that if I come up missing something, it often yields results if I go accuse my brother of never returning it, even if I have no recollection of loaning it to him. And I have on several occasions thought that I lost or got robbed of higher ticket items like the cordless drills, only to find them in strange places later, after purchasing another, of course. I also have a hard time passing up a good deal on a sale item.

Anyway, NEVER AGAIN! Now that I will (hopefully) soon have a place for everything, and everything in its place, I am going to be totally organized and will know instantly whether or not I still own a tool. I will be so much more productive and so much more wealthy, not buying all these repeat tools! I am embarking on a new era! I always tell the story about if I ask my Father in Law if he has a tool I wanted to borrow, his reply would be: "Sure, in my shop, second drawer down on the left, about halfway towards the back". If he asked me if I had something that he wanted to borrow, my response would be: "yes, I'm pretty sure I have 4 or 5 of them, and I don't have any idea where any of them are." Well anyway, I hope to do better than I have done, because after only 11 years of marriage, that means we will need about 3 more sheds by the time I am 70...

By the way, anybody need some screwdrivers?