spring of '09

So here's a little of what's been happening around the Foster Farm-let lately. Because I am such a self-less, loving husband, I have decided to split my time between working in the basement finishing a winter project (started too late to finish in the winter) and normal springtime outside stuff, even though every fiber of my being cries out to go outside and plant, build, and... whatever, just be somewhere besides the basement when its nice outside. (As a side note, this basement project started out as a voluntary surprise thing for my wife, I was going to finish ONE WALL(!), and now I have finished 5, built a big closest, and built copious amounts of shelving in that closet, moved all of our junk into it from old storage space, (& much of Wife's sisters' stuff) and now am firmly entrenched in building a whole set of cabinets to cover one of the walls I just finished.

During the winter, I often get emails from Gurneys, (who guarantee their trees for "as long as you garden", a very foolish warranty to offer to people with a brown thumb like me; but they have been as good as their word on it so far) offering trees for half off, free shipping etc, all of which is fine, except I have exemplified a total lack of self control when it comes to purchasing fruit trees online. Anyway, I got 11 of them delivered all at once, and had a heck of a time getting them all in the ground soon enough. I've still about 5 yet coming, but don't know when; they just show up whenever. So far, since I have moved here 3+ years ago we have planted about 150+ trees and/or shrubs. Who knew that Kansas has a department of forestry where you can also get great deals on trees?

Recently, I also had the great joy of helping Andrew Hawkinson, (friend and Friendly Neighborhood Traveling Used Forklift Tire Salesman) load up a used forklift tire upon his Mobile Used Forklift Tire Sales Unit. This seems an appropriate place for a picture:

My guess is he just drives around to job-sites and asks "hey buddy, I got a sweet deal on this here Forklift Tire. And I'll give you an even sweeter deal if you let me use your forklift to get it off of my van so that I don't have to pick it up again!" Go, Andrew, go! Times are hard, anything to make a buck, buddy!

Also from Isaiah this weekend; apparently at some point last week the kids and Mama went to the Wichita zoo, because he was showing how big these animals were by stretching out his pudgy little arms as wide as they could go, saying ..."they were even bigger than this, daddy! They were HUMONGO!!" So at this point I wasn't really sure what he was talking about, I asked him what animal it was again: "The turd-asauras, Daddy!" This was met with much tittering from his older sisters, and not a few snickers from myself, so, either he meant the tortoises, or the zoo got a new kind of reptile that I am unfamiliar with.

And lastly, the big new thing around here is the new furniture arrangement in the living room. Furniture rearrangement is something that happens infrequently in our house, by some standards anyway; but still more often than I care for and less often than everyone else cares for. But as this was done after a carpet cleaning where all furniture was moved anyway, and I wasn't involved at all in the decision process, and it was complete when I came home; so I guess its OK. The girls noted it looked quite a lot like royal throne room and instantly granted me "Kingship". The duties of king-ship weighed heavily upon me, mostly as (oddly enough) I spent a great deal of time being told to get on my knees for His Majesty's Royal Crown Fitting. You will note His Majesty's Royal Crown on the red pillow in his throne in picture. You will also notice His Majesty's Royal Socks, His Majesty's Royal Sneaker, and maybe even His Majesty's New Royal Blackberry. As an aside, being in His Majesty's Royal court apparently requires much curtsying, giggling, and thumping of each other and younger brothers for not behaving well in front of His Majesty. Still, it is fun to wear the paper crown, and to be called Sire, and be served tea and newspaper while my wife wearily toils away at supper, or whatever she does in the servant quarters of my castle. Its good to be the king!

The abstract concept of time

Its hard to imagine that Isaiah's fat four year old head could actually get stuck in between the front door and the storm door, but apparently it happened. After walking through the blistering cold all the way to Gran and Grampa's house, only to find that they weren't there, he turned around and came home. I am unsure of all the details, because I was working downstairs in the basement and therefore oblivious to all that happened upstairs. The first I heard of it was after Gracie went upstairs for something, then came back downstairs and told me that when she went upstairs, she could hear Isaiah knocking and yelling. She freed him and he was most grateful, telling her that the wind blew the storm door shut before he got the front door open.
The funny part, though, was when he came downstairs - (he was quite unaffected, if still a little blue from the cold) I asked him if he was there for very long. His response: "I didn't really look at the clock; I cant tell time anyway."

Dan, Davey, and Johnny.

In our house, music is a big part of our life. We turn music on when we go to sleep, when we wake up, when we clean up, and when we want to have fun. So we sleep, wake, clean, eat, and dance just for fun's sake to music. We listen to nearly anything that we consider well done, be it classical, classic country, rap or rock, secular or Christian; we like music for music's sake, it doesn't even have to make good sense, we just like to have fun. One recurrent theme in the music in our home, however, is "redemption". For this reason, we hear a lot of Johnny Cash in our musical lives. If you don't know, Mr. Cash led a roller coaster life of sex, drugs, and rock & roll (and country). He eventually found his Lord and Savior, and loved to tell and sing about it in his music in his later years. On one of his last albums that he produced before he died is a specific song that my wife has commented on that reminds her of me, and apparently has done this in front of my Gracie. Tonight she asked me why Momma said that.


Instead of my usual tactic of avoidance of the subject of my "crazy days" (as J. R. Cash puts it), I decided to open up with her some and tell her that years ago I didn't know the Lord and that I was one crazy dude. Her response? "I BET SO!, WITHOUT A WIFE TO CONTROL YOU!!!" I of course informed her that without the Lord controlling my life first, that all of Mamma's efforts would be in vain anyway, even if they weren't already. She was still curious, so we just had a little impromptu bible study and I turned to Psalm 34 and read to her (don't really know why, except it had been on my mind) the first 8 verses, and explained how the Lord responds to people who cry out to Him, and fall before him. And I told them (all of them by this time, as you cant sit on the floor without being mobbed by all in my house) that I had decided to "taste" (see vs 8) and I decided that the Lord was good, and encouraged them to take refuge in the Lord when struggling with things they were sure that were impossible to do on their own. "Taste" I said, "and see that the Lord is good."


For I have tasted; and if you don't already know, the Lord is good. And let us exalt His name together. If you seek the Lord he will answer you; you will never be ashamed.

And interestingly, I noticed only now in verse 11 it states "Come you children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the Lord".


Has my prayer not continually been that I could teach my children right from wrong, that I could guide them to fear of our Lord? I do pray that this psalm, perhaps written to "Davey's" own children originally, would have an impact on my own.

Big Chicken Business

So, today I measured a metal building that is squatting upon well over one million square feet of floor space. This building (already two years into its construction) is to be used for egg and chicken production, and even while still under construction, just got its first batch of baby chicks this week.

Raising chickens must be "Big Business"; but apparently, spelling is NOT. I love construction! It makes me feel so smart! A little bit added sweetness is that it isn't even the right address.

This made me reflect back to my Spanish classes I took from Señor Schmidt, that at times ran a little long when he had to stop teaching Spanish in order to teach basic English to many of the adult students, including obscure and complicated sentence structure topics like: subject, verbs, prepositions, and most complex of all, the adverb. At the risk of poking a "bête noire," I'm just saying that it seems that our public education system could use a little tune up. Then again, I'm glad that there is still a place for us bad spellers to work at! (I put that preposition on the end of that sentence on purpose just for a little pithy irony. Did it work?)

on genetics

My head is still spinning from an earlier conversation with my kids over supper tonight. My 2nd child informed me that I was the oddball of the family because all the kids have blond hair and blue eyes, and I don't. She also informed me that I more closely resemble the family dog "Sam" than any of the kids, because he at least has green eyes and facial hair, unlike any of the kids. Kinda disturbing, huh?

on one's own helplessness and John Milton

I don't normally have weighty matter on my mind, mostly because I have in my mind a long list of stuff to get done, and I am always slower than I think I should be, so my concentration is always upon "The List". Living like this lends itself to a nearly self-absorbed, shallow life, but that's OK, because mostly I'm a self-absorbed, shallow guy, and I don't feel much missing. In other words, before I go too much further with this, I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression that I just sit around and contemplate 17Th century British poets all the time.

However, I recently came down with the nasty, nasty "crud" that the rest of my family got and nearly made me extinct. That's no big deal, I do some of my best work when I feel the worst, I always figured I'd a lot rather be doing something when I felt lousy than sitting around feeling sorry for myself and thinking about nothing but how bad I feel. But add to that a nearly crippling back injury incurred last Monday, and it pretty much wiped my "List" clean. Wednesday, I worked through the pain and cut firewood when I came home, then woke up around midnight new years eve (real party animal, I know) with such excruciating pain that I made my first new years resolution in years; that I would really take it easy Thursday. So with as much self-control as I could muster, I did nothing all day. It isn't as easy as it sounds.

But I had nice time anyway, and read something by John Milton that really struck me. If you didn't know, he was probably most famous for his book "Paradise Lost", which he dictated in iambic pentameter to one daughter or another after he lost all sight. However, this poem is about the loss of that sight and his feelings of helplessness (which I happen to relate to lately). It is called "When I consider How My Light Is Spent"

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."

If any of you are like me, this will go straight over your head unless you happen to be laid up for a day or two, and don't like watching infomercials. But if you have several minutes, read it again.

High tea, cowboys, and dental hygiene

Here are some pictures just to let everyone know that it isn't all possum killing and blacksmithing at the foster household. the first is of the kids while I personally held a "high tea" (at least as high as it can get at the Foster Farmlet) yesterday while the ladies were shopping.


This is a shot at a good looking cowboy smoking a cigar with colorful sprinkles on the end. Apparently it is all the rage with cowboys nowadays. Below that is a picture of our desperate attempt of getting a handle on our bad dental hygiene.