- 30 -

Well, I did it.

I actually did it. I've got 30 posts attached to 30 days in November.

I said "attached." I did not sit down every day and write. I did make frequent use of the draft feature to jot title ideas and content notes. Some days I was tired and uninspired. Some days I just didn't feel like dancing with the accompanying photos. Then, some days, I'd crank out two or three posts. (It's behavior like this that drove my professors batty. Maybe if I'd braved the computer lab of the mid '80s and had learned to use a word processor, I might have had more success with my late night/last minute technique.) (You know, I think I've said that exact same thing in my blog before. Sheesh.)

It's done for the year, and I DID IT. I might even take a moment to feel accomplished.

I will definitely take a few days off.

How About More Pictures, Less Words?

It's the next to last day of NaMoBloPo, and I can't think of anything to say. So how about some pictures of ME?! I'm usually holding the camera or making sure the kids are the focus, but Scott was able to get quite a few of me when his sister took us with her church kids to pumpkin patch out in Rainsville back in October. (How's that for a string of prepositional phrases?)

I'm helping Brenda get ready to help my daughter paint her pumpkin.

An orange pumpkin definitely needs something blue.

My son wants to paint an AU on his, too, so he's using his dad's as a template.
(Of course this is Scott's pumpkin, how else can he take the picture?)

Me, the kids and the gobblers. War Turkey!

DLG gets to feed a baby goat.

Now you can really see that pink feather in my hair.

I'm finally trying out a corn bin.

It does feel good. And I feel silly.

DLG is more interested in getting off her socks
than helping MLB bury me in corn kernels.

I really can't believe my husband is taking a picture of this.

With this, I guess I now say a finally adieu to autumn. The solstice is still about three weeks away, but if it's the Christmas season here in North America, then it's winter! Bon hiver!

Motherhood, the Second Oldest Profession

I wanted to catch up on my blog today.

But I had to catch up on the adults' laundry or we'd be cold and naked. (Or worse, rumpled and smelly.)

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I wanted to finally work on my son's curtain.

But we were finally out of my son's ADHD medicine, so I found coupons for other things on sale at Publix to make my trip more worthwhile besides just for the milk we were out of, too.


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I wanted to clear out leftovers from the fridge to put in the freezer.

But my daughter decided to clear out the contents of her stomach, so I had to put all sorts of yurped things into the trash or the laundry.


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Well, there's always tomorrow, because after all...

I'm not going to Faith Sharing only to leave a sick daughter to share with the other kids in the nursery.

Fiddle-dee-pthuuut!

The First Day of Advent

Advent begins today, the joyful anticipation of the incarnation of the Christ. The children will begin their countdown calendars on December 1-- some will be secular, some will be religious.

But for us adults, the four Sundays before the Feast of Christ's Nativity are the countdown.

Some years, I've let the first day of Advent slip past me, even though I store my wreath our walk-in closet. Not this year. I asked MLB what was special in the church today. He was so excited, all he could do was hold up a single finger. One- we were lighting one candle today.

My Advent wreath isn't fancy, but it is special. My parents did not have an advent wreath for us when I was growing up. They still don't. When I moved out on my own, I wanted one, but money was tight.

I made mine.

The candles are store-bought-- I think the last three matching purples discount store had that year. All five are secured in plaster of Paris bases poured into cupcake papers. (I did white candles in plaster for my Sunday School kids last Lent; at their age, I'd had my own "Easter" candle from Sunday School, so I did the same craft with them.)

The plaster is wrapped in green satin and tied with gold cording. Both were bought from the discount bins, and have been used in many other projects. I do not want to light them (they never burn down at the same rate, anyways,)  so I use another twist of the gold cording to indicate which week it is.

The green garland I bought as a personal prop for the first play I was ever in. Bank Street Players in Decatur did "It's a Wonderful Life" in 1995. I got to play "Aunt Tilly" (ditzy & married to Uncle Billy.) I was supposed to be decorating the bank in one vignette, so I got something to deck the halls. I've had it ever since.

The blue ribbon is an after-holiday sale find. I adore that shade of blue, and it is fitting with the season. Instead of using the true purple of solemn repentance that's normally associated with Lent, many churches are using a deep royal indigo which evokes the silent anticipation and joyful song of the clear midnight.

My wreath. We are all excited. O Come! O Come, Emmanuel!

A Green Birthday

Once upon a time, I wouldn't give cash or gift certificates as gifts. I felt they were too lazy and didn't show that I had a real interest in the person. I insisted on hunting up the "perfect gift," which would be even more perfect if I snagged it on sale or as a second-hand treasure. I even had a space in my closet to store them so they'd be ready, come-what-holiday-may.

Then I had kids.

Isn't that how all fairy-tales take a hard left?

I am now a huge believer in cash and gift cards. They fit in a first class envelope. They can be acquired at the last minute. If it's for a kid, the parents can decide what stuff to buy with a card (school clothes?) or invest if it's money. Cash & cash equivalents do not clutter closets, need batteries, break or make noise. (These are very, very important qualities to a parent to make something a good gift. Books work the same way, but do run the threat of being a duplicate selection.) If it's for an adult, it can be for a consumable (donuts, cup-cakes, spa) that once again do not clutter closets, need batteries, break or get commandeered by the kids. (I can also use my closet space for things other than gift storage... like my books now that the kids have taken over my den.)

I could say something here like, "My, my, how the mighty have fallen," or "Never say never." I might be right. And I might be lazy.

But really, I've fallen in love with what a gift card or cash can do, in a lifestyle where I (and many I know)  have too much. I seem to also hear words of appreciation much more for these "modern" gifts than I did of old. What I can say is, "Times, they are a changing."

(Sometimes. You who instead got boxes from me this year know I'm not fully cured. But you gals love me!)

Small Town Friday

I spent today in Ft. Payne, Alabama. Today was too beautiful to spend dashing about at odd hours to stand in line to get "good deals" on more stuff we don't need. Black Friday? Bah, humbug!

After a charming luncheon with my mother-in-law & sister-in-law, I was ready to take a walk. For once Brenda could enjoy playing with the children instead of rushing off to teach. I wanted to browse the shops on Gault Avenue. Scott grew up here and remembered when Gault Avenue was the heart of commerce. The stores he remembers as a kid are not there; he was afraid it would be too depressing.

Not me! I saw a sunny & mild day! I felt a refreshing wind! I thought of the boutiques and antique shops lining the thoroughfare. I wanted to examine all of the windows... and get to finally visit the park.

Scott relented and came with me. (I guess he wanted to make sure I stuck to my promise to "not spend too much.") Hand-in-hand we walked. We had a lovely afternoon.

We walked down to City Park. All of the holiday lights were up. The city installed the refinished fountain from the old DeKalb Hotel, which had stood not far from there along the railroad about 100 years ago. I was so glad to see it. For the longest while it had stood in the garden of a home on Alabama Avenue; when I'd stopped seeing it last year, I was worried it'd been sold or stolen. We like the old things, he & I.

We marveled at a ginko tree so large, that it had to be as old as the fountain. I'd love to get a photo of it in the spring.

Walking back up the avenue, Scott gazed appreciatively at two specimens of local man's car collection. Brenda thinks she remembers teaching him music.

We wandered though the antiques at The Strand. We also drooled over the beefy smells coming from their lunch counter. That must have been some good grilling if it made us hungry just an hour after supper! (We want to eat there soon.)

We saw items that made us think of growing up around our parents and grandparents; we are so vintage retro. I decided that I must have two unique plates. Anodized aluminum tumblers, vintage & modern retro abound, and it's not hard to find many other example of aluminum kitchenware. I, myself, have a Mirro cookie press, miscellaneous cookie cutters and a handful of prep tools.

These plates, however, I've never seen the like. I cannot even find anything like them on the Internet. I wonder if they might be a handicraft instead of a produced item. The plates themselves are different-- the blue is brushed, the copper is polished, and both have different depths.

Neither have a "mark," so it's almost impossible to determine the age or maker. They are adorable (and orange & blue!) and Scott is going to let the kids wrap them up for me for Christmas. After that, I'm going to try my hand at hanging them on a kitchen cabinet door.

Our last stop was a framing gallery. We found prints of old photos of Ft. Payne and DeKalb County. Many of the photos were taken of Gault Avenue. They made Scott smile. One showed the old Coca-Cola bottler; that building is what now houses that car collection. The gallery also sells Orbix Hot Glass. Ooo... want! I like glass. I like hand-blown glass. I like bright colors. I like local artists. I like! We didn't get any glass; I couldn't decide what to invest in (the prices are reasonable for what the pieces are, it's just that it's the end of the month.) Then there's the question of where to put it where the kids couldn't kill it. But I can dream, can't I?

We walked hand-in-hand back to his childhood home, where our kids were making memories. We had our own new memories. It was well dark when we said our goodbyes later. For fun, so the kids could see the holiday decorations, we drove up to the park so we could drive down Gault Avenue. With everything glowing, even the marquee of the DeKalb Theater, it looked liked a setting from a Capra movie.

Now THAT is the way to spend the Friday after Thanksgiving.

Thankful

God

Family: one I have, one I was given, one I've made, one I've found

Husband

Son

Daughter

Memories of Unconditional Love from Pets with Personality

Shelter

Leisure

Industry

Shape of Trees in Winter
Peace
Love
Joy
Warmth
Demure Daffodils and Sassy Wrens
Chocolate
Hot Water
Health Care
Christmas
Birthdays
Lick-it-before-it-drips Succulence of a Real Fresh Peach
Laughter
Easter
Liberty
Crisp Drifts of Leaves
Gratitude
Me
You

This Christmas

I am amazed.  It is the day before Thanksgiving and:

I have a place cleared for my tree, as well as have dusted and tidied all the places I want to decorate.

I know where my Christmas cards are, I've bought my stamps, and after a second look, I think there are some photos of the kids that I'll be please to send to friends & relations.

I'm ready for Advent.

I've got new ornaments.

I've got a large number of presents bought already. I've even mailed those for my out-of-state gals! (The one in Tennessee is really almost local. I'm still plotting for her....)

I might actually "do" Christmas this year AND have time to enjoy it.

It would be pretty to think so.

Publishing Protocol

An Evening with Dr. Flynt

Back on November 8th, I got the chance to again sit in on one of Dr. Wayne Flynt's talks about history. In this case, it was more on his history, but as usual, he emphasized that you can't live your history separate from the history going on around you with everyone else.

I said "again," because I was blessed to be able to have him as a professor of several history classes while I was at Auburn University. He taught my Honors Section of American History (20th Century.) The class he taught that made the most impression on me was on Oral Histories. I was able to get get my mom's mom to spend an afternoon telling me & my cassette recorder all about growing up in immagrant-Polish Boston and of the wild pre-WWII courtship with her Alabama-cracker husband. When a cousin had gotten wind that I'd first tried to sit down with my dad's aunt (his late mom's surviving sister) and that she didn't feel comfortable talking to a recording machine, well Suzanne (being her favorite niece) eventually got her to tell some family history as well. (I miss them both so much, but maybe this Christmas, I'll introduce my kids to them.)

In Dr. Flynt's class, I learned that the everyday is important. How a man's or woman's life is lived is just as significant as whether a battle is won. What the "common" person thinks and feels makes as indelible of an impression as the words of a statesman. But since in the past, few people recorded the histories of "us," no one knows these histories. He told us to treasure and recount the family stories, to listen to reminiscences, and to always ask questions and then truly listen to the answers. History is full of "us." The outcomes are for "us."

One of the ways he brought that point to bare was with the history of American coal mining. It was dangerous. But it was necessary. It was undervalued. But it was honest work. The stories, music and songs of Appalachia reflect the history of the backbone of American energy. "16 Tons" and "Owed My Soul to the Company Story" are not just country tunes--- they're life.

Dr. Flynt is a great teacher, and a state treasure. To tell the truth, for all the really dumb things I did in college, I learned some hard but important lessons. Being a poor student for Dr. Flynt was not one of them. Being a poor student for Dr. Flynt is one of my truest regrets.

Maybe that's why I pay attention to a news story if I hear his name mentioned, why I read a newspaper article all the way through if he is featured or quoted. I don't want to squander my chance again.

When my husband let me know that Dr. Flynt was giving a talk at the library about his new book, I jumped at Scott's offer to stay with the kids so I could have an evening out. This book, Keeping the Faith: Ordinary People, Extraordinary Lives, Dr. Flynt says will be the last one he writes. It's not a biography, he says, but a historical memoir. The people who touched the lives of him & his family are more central to this book than what he, himself, did. He spent much of his talk not talking about himself, but about the people he features in his book like his dad and all of his "dad-isms" or the family that ran the barbecue place that became a gathering spot for his own extended family.

Dr. Flynt unwound tales that had us laughing and sometimes groaning. He was having as much fun as we were. Even though he is as old as my dad, Dr. Flynt hardly looked or sounded changed, even though it's been 25 years since I last sat before him and his instruction. He is a man of integrity, true to himself and the Christianity that he lives and passes on. Sometimes he might take the "unpopular" path, but it will always be the right path based on his research, knowledge and faith. And if it's not, he strives to admit to change. He also strives to forgive, while still being vigilant against that which would compromise him.

If I could do it all over again, I would be a better student for him; he deserves all the respect and admiration that he is accorded throughout the state. But I will, instead, treasure the evening with all the other good folk who turned out. I will read the book I have beside me. And I will remember.... and write.

Rock Party Follow Up

You won't believe this.

I was a winner in the Huntsville Gem & Mineral Society's drawing.

Not one prize, but TWO! Whoo-hoo!

I was very excited, and humbled, to get the call from the member in charge of the raffle. Lori was very kind in apologizing that she was calling later than she expected with the news. Yes, this is still a good address to mail them to. (I could hardly wait.)

I cannot not be more tickled with what I (well, we, since my son helped) won. I made sure that I wrote thank you notes to the society and the prize donors.

Lemme' show you!

Can you see them? Those two wine-colored drops hanging on my crystal bowl? Those are one of the pairs of garnet earrings I wanted!!! Garnet is my daughter's birthstone; this pair has a pronounced plum tone, set off nicely by the sterling silver settings. I'm daring to hope they are "native" Carolina stones. They were donated by Dwight D. Sebastian and Judie R. Sebastian of Sebastian's Jewelry in Hays, NC. (They don't have a webpage that I can find, but the phone number is 336-696-4058 and business address
POB 143, Hays, NC 28635)

This specimen was donated by Bill Mitcham of Kudzu Minerals ("We've got you covered!") They are based out of Fayetteville, GA. For those who want to find their own specimens, they also operate Hogg Mine and Smith's Crystal Field. (Phone number is 678-763-1409) (I wonder if I can talk my husband into a day-trip one spring weekend-- just the crystal field.)

These pics don't really show off this dark specimen to it's best effect (the shiny part on top is my bowl-- ignore it.)
Let me quote the insert:

"Name: Iridescent Hematite Goethite (Turgite)
Location: Graves Mountain Mine, Lincoln County, Georgia
Size: 2 3/8" x 2 1/4" x 1"

This is a very nice specimen of goethite. The color is mostly blue and green but it also has some green and pink mixed in.

Graves Mountain Turgite is both goethite and hematite mixed in the regrowth process. Turgite from this mine went through a massive alteration and produced an intermediate between hematite and goethite which makes it impossible to determine which mineral is more dominate." (The pink is more apparent in the top photo; the blue and green are more "peacock pyrite" evident, actually, in the darker parts.)

I am still very tickled to have won these! (My family "luck" is more busy getting us through day-to-day than garnering me prizes. The luck of my grandmother & her sisters is renowned.) These will be cherished treasures to pass on to my kids.

Thank you.

These Are the Times to Remember

"This is the time to remember
'cause it will not last forever.
These are the days to hold on to,
'cause we won't, although we'll want to.
This is the time,
But time is gonna' change."

Billy Joel wrote these lyrics about holding on to the joys of a budding romance to warm the heart as time passes. Yet the chorus plays in my mind as I hear my childrens' laughter from the next room.

They are playing games with each other that they have made up.
Will they remember the joy of their childhood friendship.
Will I remember the unbridled giggles I hear?

They are playing "Roadrunner Tag." It's simple. Roadrunner runs. Coyote wants to catch him. Roadrunner says, "Beep! Beep!" There's running, tagging, beeping, giggling. Simple, and anyone can play.

One child claims tired. The other will not desist tagging & beeping. Before tears erupt, I make a suggestion that they now race like on "The Cat in the Hat Knows All About That": A Slow Race. Maybe it was the sloth, maybe it was the snail, but it was a race to see who can go slowest. They try, oh, they try. But they're very fast for being slow!

Sitting now, MLB picks up a Doodle-Pro and suggests a new game: "Don't Trap the Turtle." DLG is game for the game, until she learns it's a guess-the-word game. "I don't want to play hangman!" And off she goes to her room to build a tower. MLB is undaunted and plays by himself. He has picked his four-letter word and sketched his turtle. With the "Magnet School" tin of letters in front of him, he begins to draw them out randomly. A correct letter gets written down; an incorrect letter builds one of sixteen section of cage around the poor turtle. Much kinder than hanging a poor ol' stick man.

These are the days to hold on to. So often I don't. So often I want to.

I Tried It, I Can Knock It

I pampered myself last month. I would adore weekly spa days, but we don't have a money tree. So in usual mother fashion, I put myself last.

I only do what I have to do. In the first case, I was beyond needing a hair cut because I was now beyond 6 months since my last one.

I will also will do what I am encouraged to do. I have some of the dearest friends and family, who love me and do their best to pamper me with gift cards. In the second case, my husband got me a Groupon gift for a spa mani/pedi.

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Off I went to Beleza. It's not far up the street and was introduced to me years ago by my friend Tara. Who lives one state away and used the Internet to find a nearby spa so I could have a gift of indulgence. I chose a pedicure back then. Loved it! Went back for a hair cut & style. Loved it more! They are an Aveda salon, so I get to enjoy their wonderful Comfort Tea. The place is full of swell smells, I get a de-stressing head rub before my shampoo and often a hand massage during the shampoo. There are no kids there, just women of all ages & beauty and really hip staff. It is my happy place. I just neglect myself.... I've also had three different stylist. Not mad, not at all! The first took a job at another Aveda salon in the next county so she didn't have to drive so far to work & to have her mom look after her son-- totally cool choice. The next one decided to be a SAHM after the birth of her son-- again, totally cool. If I would get my hair cut every 6 to 8 weeks, I wouldn't be surprised by these changes, but.... I like my new stylist. When I said I wanted to lose some length, she believed me. Finally, someone who cut my hair short when I asked (yes, it was long, but it wouldn't get much longer than that, besides it was driving me nuts and I never wore it down any more. It'll grow back when I feel like it.) She cut my hair the way I asked, and the floor looked like she'd shaved Persian Cat.

Another thing I've been wanting to do is put a blue streak in my hair. Not permanent, but like I used to in the '80s when you could buy all sorts of out-there mascara colors. I'd like a color wand for my hair. I've looked for colored mascaras at the retails, but that's not back in fashion. (I have not looked at Sally Beauty Supply, at Ulta or at Enchanted Masquerade-- see above comment about "mother fashion.") I notice my stylist had some bright pink streaks in her hair. Not color-- feathers. That's in fashion: fancy-rooster feathers that can be washed & styled like hair. Now I've been "uh-huh" about this fashion, and not interested in trying it myself. However, this was the month of October and they were pink; Beleza had sponsored a team for the Liz Hurley Ribbon Run to support local research for breast cancer cure/treatment and to support local groups who help individuals and families cope with the disease. This month only, for a $10 donation to the cause, I could get a free pink feather. Sounded win-win to me; I would not be buying it, but I would be trying it though the support of a worthy local cause. I couldn't decided between the plain feather or the black-striped feather. I donated $20 and got them both.

They were cute. They were fun. Then the novelty passed and they just hung there. Maybe I should have styled them. I don't really style my hair. Naturally curly is all about the air dry. They were crimped by a bead to a few strands of my hair. No big deal to cut five hairs.

The feathers might be "the thing" for someone else, but not for me. I'm keeping them in case DLG wants to wear them, but I'll put them on a clip for her. (Must try to find a hair wand for self...)

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A week later, I used my Groupon certificate. I had to. I'd had it since my birthday in July and it expired November first! I have very little child-free daytime hours, and I must first use them for things like health care, home care & education support. But by October, things were finally routine with the new school year.

Maybe the other reason I was in no hurry to use it was that it was NOT for Beleza. It was for a spa way out in Madison. My husband really wanted to get me a good birthday present, and it was a really good present, but I was in no rush to drive that far. But it was a really good present, and sassy me with her short hair and feathers was ready for some more pampering.

The salon was nice. Empty, but nice. I'm hoping that it was empty because the naked toes of summer were taking a back-to-school fall break before the fancy feet of the holidays. There was a lot of money invested in this start-up business. That day I was the only customer.

I tried to relax and enjoy the pedicure, but I couldn't because the throne had a "relaxing" massage chair. I hope that it's not typical of massage chairs. The back kneading would thrust me forward. The head rubbing bounced my skull. The chair was also designed to massage the thighs and fanny; I almost felt violated. THAT massage chair was not my "cup of tea."

I liked the pedicure (minus the chair.) The technician suggested a French Pedicure. I'm still liking my toe color. I liked my nail color, too, but that is now gone. The technician suggested a gel for my nails. I was impressed by how study her nail color was, and I knew my mom was very happy with her acrylic nails. What I didn't know was that gel acrylics are cured with UV light. That, in addition to not knowing that acrylics must be manually, not chemically, removed. (So that's why it's a big deal if a salon touts "No drills.") As pretty as my pink nails looked, I was now sporting new freckles on a few fingers. I also developed a painful spot on the outside of my pinkie that looked like what happens if you get a deep burn blister. The color grow-out was obvious, and I was able to peel the acrylic off in the shower after about three weeks. Along with the top layer of my nails.

No more acrylics for me-- gel or otherwise. They are a nice thing, don't get me wrong. They are wonderful for anyone who needs a durable color, like a nail technician. They are wonderful for someone with weak nails, like my mom. I have strong nails and pale skin. I do not need high-maintenance nails.

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To recap:
new stylist= good;  hair feathers = not so good for me;
French Pedicure = good; gel acrylic nail = not so good for me;
whatever brand of massage chair = an abomination to relaxation

I LIKE Books!

I've been on a bit of a book-bender this month.  I've spent over $250.

What's surprising is that I'm not spending that much each month.

I grew up with books. My parents loaded a pair of utility shelves with books. That piece of furniture dominates my memories of home. It filled over the years with their college textbooks, "Book of the Month" selections, reference books from Time/Life and Britannica. When my parents signed us kids up with the "Bright & Early Beginning Readers" club, we added our own Dr. Seuss classics to the shelves. By the time I was in high school, my dad had built bookshelves into many walls of all upstairs rooms-- my room, the den & my brother's room.

I've been read to & reading as long as I can remember. I was a self-taught reader, as were my brother & parents. I can remember learning how to pronounce long, unfamiliar words, but there's not a time that I can remember when words were just perplexing jumbles of letters. Our son surprised us by showing us he could read independently by age three. I have no advice on teaching a child how to read. It's just an assumed part of our lives.

If our house was bigger, if we could afford more & nicer bookshelves, if I thought our daughter wouldn't climb the shelves and our son wouldn't try to read content way too old for him, I'd have our house filled with books-- all kinds of books. As it is, it's filled all kid books (a little less than kind.) Never fear, all of the adult books are regretfully boxed up and sitting in my parents' basement. I'll admit, there have been some that I've put in the rummage sale, but those were usually paperbacks of "classics" that I've enjoyed, but have not been in love with; I can always get a copy at another rummage sale. Scott has given up some books, too; I can't say what his criteria have been, but there have been very few selections I've argued against-- not because I didn't want his books around, but because I wanted to respect his decisions (but I did keep some, especially ones that I thought our son might enjoy one day.)

So. I went book crazy this month. Rest assured, they're not all for us. For one thing, I've paid about $40 in library late fees. I know there's NO excuse for that, considering I can renew books on-line anytime of day. But... I don't know... I just don't know. I do know that it doesn't count against my credit record and that the library is grateful for every dollar they get in the face of ever-shrinking funding. If I'm going to pay a fine anywhere, there's no better place than the library.

Then I bought books at the school. They hold two book fairs a year to raise money for their library. The first one, run by Barnes & Noble, was the first of the month. MLB's 2nd grade teacher had a wish-list; I bought her Gorrillas: Gentle Giants of the Forest (the boy likes non-fiction.) For the librarian, I bought Vespers Rising (The 39 Clues Series #11.) For MLB, I bought the first two in the "Pizza Puzzle" series: The Case of the Secret Sauce and The Case of the Topsy-Turvy Toy, and he picked out Going to the Sea Park in the "Little Critter" series. I picked for DLG Splat the Cat and the Duck with No Quack and Splat the Cat: Good Night, Sleep Tight. I got my myself a copy of Christy Jordan's Southern Plate cookbook (finally!), signed of course.

The spending didn't end there; for the whole book fair week, I could shop Barnes & Noble in-store or on-line and have my purchases credited to the school. At the store, I got a copy of If You Give a Dog a Donut for our grandniece, and a copy for our own kids. I then did some Christmas shopping on behalf of my mom; I know MLB's going to love her gifts of Tangrams: Easy to Learn and You Can Draw: Over 80 Drawings to Master (a collection of the most popular You Can Draw books.) [Side note, those selections inspired my mom & brother to buy at Costco a pre-k tangrams book for DLG and for MLB a dinosaur book with punch-out dinos to add to pop-up dioramas.]

Continuing the buying spree last week, I attended a talk given by my favorite professor at Auburn, Dr. Wayne Flynt. He was signing copies of his books; I couldn't resist buying his newest book for myself... and for a friend who couldn't make it to the talk (at the Main Public Library, tee-hee!)... and there might have Christmas shopping....

You'd think I was all "booked," but when I went to the branch library today (pick up a held book, renew some others, pay more fines, yes...) I wandered through the book-sale section. I usually don't see anything that grabs me from among all the current popular fiction; I look for kid books, but rarely find those. Not today! I found a well-read The Berenstain Bears Mysteries: The Galloping Ghost (MLB loves the B. Bears!) And two animal-themed like-new middle-grade novels for next year: Skunk Scout (city boy goes camping with grandpa & know-it-all little brother) and Cyberia (future world where is everyone is "plugged in" but the animals don't like it and want to revolt.) Also a Scholastic Reader, Lvl 3 book of the movie Firehouse Dog; if the kids aren't keen on it, we'll donate it to MLB's teacher. Oh! speaking of donations, there were also copies of Book 1 and Book 4 of the Charlie Bone series that looked like they'd never been read. I grabbed those for the school library! All that literary love for $5.00!

Be warned: there's still one more week left in November, and that week holds "Black Friday," followed a partial week starting with "Cyber Monday." The tomes I could yet amass......

All Together Again

Since NASA is developing the next class of rocket propulsion, they should study my mom.

Right now she is OVER the MOON.

For the first time in about a decade, we are all together again for Thanksgiving Day.

My brother has moved back to North Alabama, and my family will be joining my parents & him for the big feast. But it will be the first Thanksgiving in a while that we have not spent with my husband's family, but this will work itself out. His sister & her family now live in Birmingham and I think she wants to start having Thanksgiving down there. This is also the first Thanksgiving in a while that my parents have not spent traveling.

It's a funny story how the parents ended up traveling to the kid for Thanksgiving. Not long after I got married, my brother took a job with a company that did not have any facilities in Alabama. He spent two years working in north Georgia, so he was able to come back for holidays. Then they transferred him to North Carolina; that's a far piece to drive, but not far enough to make flying cost effective. So he thought he'd save his vacation time for Christmas. Being new in town, he hadn't made any close enough friendships to garner an invite to someone's house for Turkey & Football Day, so he headed out to a local sports bar where a radio station was having a Thanksgiving buffet for folks who didn't have anywhere to go. (Free food & football, right?) They also offered free phone calls back home. When they made the call for my brother, they jokingly told my parents they ought to be ashamed of themselves, letting Bill go without turkey.

(Um, my mom might "be on the spectrum." She doesn't get most jokes, can't tell a joke to save her live, and cannot tell when someone is joking.)

Starting the next year, my mom packed up my dad to drive out to wherever my brother was living, first North Carolina, then Florida. She'd buy the groceries there and whatever cooking gear he needed. Despite all of her grousing about how expensive the trip was, she enjoyed it, because she enjoys cooking for a lot of people; they would always have Bill invite over folks. (My mom also enjoys grousing about money, but that should be it's own blog post.)

I haven't asked her yet what she's making, but she will try to make things my brother really likes (she dotes on him) and things that have developed into family favorites. I can guess: turkey & dressing with giblet gravy, of course, and some sort of cranberry sauce-- likely fresh; carrots (for my dad & my kids), also peas, maybe "drunken" pearl onions; there'll be her "twice baked" potatoes, maybe stuffed with bits of monkfish; there'll be the "sweet potato souffle" (sweet taters creamed with butter & brown sugar, mixed with raisins, then topped with mini-marshmallows); she might make roasted potatoes, in case my kids will reject the other two potato dishes; tossed salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and lots of onions; rolls, but ones that have to be baked, not browned; dessert will likely be pies that she makes in advance-- pumpkin, since I gave her one of our pumpkin patch ones, and a fruit pie (apple? peach? pear? muscadine? blackberry?), although she might opt to do a pie & a cheesecake instead. We will be expected to try to eat all of this after she lays out an assortment of hors d'oeuvres-- chilled shrimp ring, cheeses, crackers, nuts, maybe something wrapped in bacon, oyster/sardine tins for the "men." She'll be the perfect hostess with colas, spirits, two wines, beer, ice in a bucket (milk and juice for the kids.) She'll ask my brother to say grace, but if he defers, either my dad or my husband will give it a good "Baptist" blessing, followed up with the traditional Catholic "stinger." She'll have out her china, crystal & silver for this. Well, her second best anyways, on account of my kids.

Doing even half of that would wear me out, but in the planning and execution of such a feast, my mom is immersed in joy. Her product is a proud & tasty work of art, and a happy, well-fed family. She also manages to make just enough that there's only essential leftovers-- side dishes for a meal or two, turkey & dressing for the week, desserts to share. We chuckle at her mania for cooking a family holiday feast, but THAT is EXACTLY what makes her happy & means "holiday" to her. We all have our passions; I'll just let her enjoy her passion. (And mix, stir, chop, pour, set whatever she marshals me to do next week.)

Ta-Da!

Ta-Done!

Pulling Out Carrots

My son is a genius, not to brag. He's also got ADHD and Asperger's.

Doing math homework? Done in under 5 minutes.

Doing his sentences and questions for spelling? Can take all week.

Despite being as skinny as a supermodel, he is getting bigger; if I want him to settle down to do anything after school, I have to use 10 mg of his ADHD meds. That only helps collect his thoughts; the next trick is to persuade him. That's where I've made the discovery that "carrots" work if he's had enough meds. And the carrot's big enough.

Last Monday, I told him he couldn't write a note to the Tooth Fairy until he'd finished his homework. Even though dinner was done & we were winding down for bed, he pulled out his binder and blew through the spelling words. The next day, I told him we couldn't ask our neighbors to come over to play unless he finished his homework. "Not fair!" As usual, I reminded him that it is "fair" and it's not hard, but that the problem is that writing sentences isn't his favorite thing to do. Bim-bang-pow! Done, and done.

2nd graders tie-dye shirts to wear on field trips; I helped on tie-dye day. I wanted to match, but I forgot to bring my family's shirts. So, he helped me pick out a kit at Wal-Mart to use at home.

Today was tie-dye day at home, IF he finished his homework. "Not fair!" He'd written all of two sentences when Scott arrived at 5:30 with the pizzas. "When can I finish my homework????" After dinner. He ate one slice of pizza. "Now can I do my homework?" Done in less than 15 minutes, and ready to dye.

"Can I finish my dinner now?"(nom-nom-nom) Sigh, I'll take what I can get. Now to dig up tomorrow's enticement.

The Holiday Season Has Begun

The second weekend in November is a still a bit early, I know. I'm still cringing when I walk through Wal-Mart to be bombarded by "holiday" songs. (Christmas carols they ain't!) I don't mind the Salvation Army bell ringers, though-- always a good cause.

The second weekend in November is our little family's Christmas tradition: the Galaxy of Lights Walk-Thru night. I'm still giddy that I've started a "family tradition"! Scott & I went for the first time back in 2003, maybe the first or second year they opened the driving route to pedestrians in advance of Thanksgiving. We loved it! We could linger to enjoy some our favorite displays, AND we didn't have to worry about an SUV with "auto-on" headlights blinding us from behind. (That always seemed to happen to us on driving nights.) We enjoyed it so much, we decided to invite my parents the next year, which was even more delightful with the inclusion of our infant son. We've been walking ever since.We learned that pushing a stroller or pulling a wagon is difficult through the gravel, so the first winter after getting the convertible bike trailer, we began using that. We seem to have inspired a trend.

These "jingle" snowmen
are new this year..

as well as these ornaments.
And they're all over!

Clara & the Nutcracker by Hsv Ballet.

My favorite elf with a barrow
full of gardening gifts!

Every year we try to see if we can figure out which displays are the new ones (or un-retired ones,) and take photos & video of them. Every year we discuss where certain displays were last year, and point out our favorites. Every year my father recites the old nursery rhymes that go with their displays, since Dr. Seuss seems to have replaced Mother Goose. Every year we stop for family-group pictures in the "Icicle Forest." (My favorite display!)

Some toy soldiers are in new arrangements.

This sad soldier gets cheered up
by a pouncing puppy!

My brother got to join us on our walk this year, and the event was even bigger & better! To facilitate traffic, they are using new tourist-shuttle road between the Space & Rocket Center & the Gardens. Now they finally have a place (that makes sense) to put all of the space-themed displays; seeing the Ares rocket next to a dreidle is just a bit odd. The facility road changes have the route even longer so there are more lights. They have decided to let Santa hang out in The Arbor for good, so there's lots of room for families and the kids aren't tired from the walk. He's even got a fancy throne, backdrop & his own lights "Santa at the Garden"! (Not that we could get DLG to sit on the lap of that strange old man; MLB asked for new toy cats for both of them.) Taking the refreshments up a notch, not only is there the usual water/hot cocoa/sinckerdoodles at the half-way point by the restrooms, but they've added hot coffee & "adult" hot coffee at the start of the walk. Cookies & cocoa are free; joe is a buck & joe plus some is $4. (My mom got hers with Kahlua.)

This display is "In Thanksgiving" for all the folks who work hard
to set up the Galaxy of Lights, including the "Galaxy Guys."
A plain ol' pick up, you may wonder.
Do you see it's driving on a yellow "dirt" road?
Do you see there's a yellow "bump" in front of the rear tire?
What I failed to capture was the truck bed bumping up
& tossing a 5-gallon bucket & it's contents in the air.
Something tells me that scene happened many times,
many an October, as they set up the lights.

Thank you, Huntsville Botanical Gardens & all of your volunteers, for another wonderful family night!

The Unseen Hand

Thursday's post was about God's help in even cleaning my house.

God did it again, but this time for my husband.

A poor maple tree in our back yard never recovered from trenching work done before we bought the house. We've been putting off removing it, and last year it finally died. It's been disintegrating ever since. After every wind-storm, we find pieces of it littering the ground. We did not want to one day find pieces of it leaning against our roof or fence. Or worse, our neighbor's fence.

Both neighbors and a few friends and relations have offered to help us take it out, we just have to holler. My husband couldn't find a perfect weekend to host help properly.

Last Sunday, he was touching up some pruning on the oak and thought he'd give a try at pruning a branch off of one the trunks of the dead tree. That whole trunk just fell down. Pumped up by his success, he decided to take out the rest of the tree. The chainsaw wouldn't crank. I offered to go borrow one & a neighbor to go with it, but he said no. He tried using a maul, a carpenter's saw and a hacksaw before he finally used our "Binford Destroyer" (the reciprocating saw) to take off a thicker but shorter trunk. I said that in the time it took to do all that, we could have borrowed a saw and have done with the whole thing. The remaining trunk would be the most work; it was the least rotted and leaned back over the fence. He said he'd try later to see what was wrong with the chainsaw. He called it a day.

The next day, he went to help my brother & father unload my brother's truck. Men talk about men things, so the story of the tree was told. My father insisted Scott borrow his chainsaw. Scott had used it quite capably back in April when he went to Ft. Payne to remove a tree that had fallen in his mother's yard.

Today, with two saws and a wife available, he set out to remove the tree once & for all. But just to see, he gave our chainsaw a crank. It powered up, but burning the year-old oil/gas mix, it smoked & stunk like my uncle's old pontoon boat. Hey, my dad's chainsaw cranked like a charm... after Scott put fuel in it.

We tied a rope around the tree and strategized. If he was sawing, I'd be the one pulling. Our rope was too short to anchor for triangulation. Our southern neighbor, Al, was pruning; he also does forestry management on some land he owns. He asked if we needed a come-along (which we did, but...) Scott stopped to talk with him about where to best drop the tree. We thought we try Al's advice of putting a ladder against the tree so Scott could top it out & have it drop on the lot on the other side of the fence.

We then reconsidered. It could be that the remaining trunk was more rotten than we though, and would fall away, bringing Scott, ladder & running chainsaw down on a chain-link fence and another barbed-wire fence. Not good.

Next idea was to see it we could pull any part of the top down to the lot. Turns out the tree was pretty sturdy. It would bow & vibrate, but it wouldn't budge. Before we'd given up on pulling it over, a young man approached us and asked us if we needed help. He was from across the river, but his mom lived up the street. She & his son had not returned yet, so he's been killing time racing his motorbike on the undeveloped street. He took out trees for a living with two different firms. He'd be glad to help. For free.

I didn't say anything. Scott graciously accepted his offer and told him about the tree. Eddie (the young man) tried to crank my dad's saw, but it wouldn't even cough. Scott offered him our out-of-shape saw; while that one was refusing to cooperate, Al just went over to his garage, cranked up HIS saw, and walked it over to Eddie. Eddie didn't even bother with the ladder; he just stood on the stumps of the other trunks, braced against the remaining trunk and topped the tree out. He next put cuts most-way in on either side of the lower trunk, then used his own arms to snap it off. Scott heartily thanked him, and got a business card for a company he works for. (One day, soon, that sweetgum in the front is going DOWN.) Eddie went back to waiting for his son, and Scott & Al took out the stump.

Could we have planned for Al to have been pruning the same day as our tree work? Could we have planned to have a kind stranger riding in full view of our futile efforts, and who would offer the skill and time he just so happened to have available? Could we have planned to have two different chainsaws fail to crank so that Al would bring out his own, which had the longest bar of all? Could we have planned it?

Well, we could have organized a work party, and with the combined efforts, gotten it done. But we didn't organize one, so God did it for us. Ain't He great?

(I also got a bunch of work done in the garage while Scott got some things fixed on the Protege. It amazingly also refused to crank, so after we gave it a jump, Scott figured he might as well get the oil changed, the fuel freshened, the tires fully inflated and the battery replaced. The guy at one of the auto shops gave Scott a business card of a man who does good tune-up work across the river.

Yep, ain't God great?)

It's Never Easy

National Blog Posting Month is.... I don't know...

I don't know who started it. I don't know why it was started. Maybe it's some kind of mondo mem and the joke is on us.

I'm really, really tired of trying to come up with something new to write each night. I feel like I'm back in college trying to cram an assignment in the night before it's due. Unfortunately, this assignment is every day.

I know-- if I don't like it, stop whining & stop writing.

But I do like it.

Most of us set up a blog as a vanity thing. Very few of us have anything meaningful to say to the greater world. Yet we find an outlet and we find an audience. The blogs I follow do different things, reach different people: to let extended family know about the goings on of grandkids; to document the journey of a life examined in seminary; to share the evolution of a craft turned career; to rant & giggle just so; to pass on useful tips and info; to be the diary of the eclectic.

Any artisan will tell you that if you want to be good, get better and achieve the best, you must practice your craft every day. Writing demands daily practice. Good writing does not, necessarily, make good speech. Good writing illustrates speech, and a good writer finds a "voice" that can be identified both on paper and through speech. However, speaking is not the same as writing, and just because I can talk does not mean I can write.

I had the delusion, once, that I could WRITE. I've come to learn that I can express myself on paper such that I'm interesting to those close to me. So be it. I am vain. I would not write this blog if I didn't think someone was reading it. I need frequent posts to keep readers, even if they are using a "reader." I need more practice. I'm still finding my voice.

I owe this month two blog posts, still, to achieve 30 in 30 days. Lucky for me, I have outlines on draft. I hear that's another thing good writers do; always have the next ideas simmering.

(11 is my "lucky" number. On this lucky day, may all who have served this country though all these centuries hold fast to the honor and lift their eyes to one day see the peace they have striven to achieve and have so unsparingly given of their lives. Even those who serve in times of national amity give much of themselves as do their families. May our prayers support them now and forever. Thank you.)

Sometimes in a Different Direction

I finally couldn't stand the clutter that had returned to my room. With both kids at school, it also would be a good morning to work on Rummage Sale donation piles in the garage. The dining room, likewise, needed to be emptied in anticipation of getting out the Christmas tree.

With so much, it seemed, to do, I had no clue where to start.

I prayed for guidance.

I was told to NOT raid the kids' candy stash for stress food; the sugar just saps me of energy. Then I was told that I should make the bed, so I'd have somewhere to stage piles. The clutter on my once-organized bedside table was too obvious to ignore, and in the midst of clearing away those things, I got the word to "lift my lamp."

Huh? Oh, my grandmother's small glass lamp. Yeah, not being much higher than my pillows, the lamp didn't illuminate much. Lift it how? A box... somewhere I ought to have a not-too-big box..... the "game" box. In a hall closet, there is a wooden box about the size of a loaf of bread. It holds card games, which we don't play that much.

OK, box it is. And I can put these cards in there too, and clear these thing out to store elsewhere, and why don't I take all of the art & photos we've taken down during painting & rearranging and stack them on this shelf, guest towels on that shelf, get the Toys-4-Tots donations to the car, and since the game box is gone there's now room for MLB's rock collection & coin collection (get them out of my room!) not to mention, storing the kids' bandages in here is no longer convenient, so let's move them back into their bathroom, so I guess I ought to tidy up under their sink... where did all these wood chips come from?????--- whew, not termites-- just old particle board so I'll get out the vacuum, you know, they don't use tub-toys as much any more, so I'll pull these out to donate, and I have other piles of stuff to donate, so I'll get those off of my dining room table & out of my room and put them in the garage, but where? might as well park them on the freezer and try to clear out the garage on Saturday when Scott can help me move the wood to the back yard.

Wow! I didn't touch the garage, but I did tidy the bedroom (so I can think again) and cleared away the obvious piles in the dining room. As a bonus, I think I finally have put up stuff in that hall closet such that I'm not afraid anything will break or crash on my head. (It's taken me 10 years to get the closet like that, y'all.) My husband even noticed & complimented my new bed-side table arrangement.

I got there because I prayed for guidance. Does it seem odd to pray for the mundane? It seems I mostly hear about prayers for healing or aid in distress, for thanksgiving or prayers answered-- the "big" petitions. I pray those, too, and I try to ask others to join me in my prayers, as I join my prayers to theirs.

I hardly ever hear about prayers for the "small" petitions, but you'll find me praying for those. I'm driving and not sure of my navigation, so I pray for guidance on where to turn, and I find I'm there. I'm low on clean clothes, so I pray for guidance and discover a new way to put together some of my separates. Seems silly, but I have learned that when I rely entirely on myself, especially if I have any portion of doubt, that I make a mess of things. I am blessed with a great store of learned knowledge; I have found in many life aspects that I have a great depth of innate knowledge. I have these, but I have these from God. He is the Teacher. My understanding & practices are imperfect, yet I know I need to lean on Him, to trust Him, to bring to Him my everyday life. Through Him, I feel "together" and get things done.

Goodbye, Summer

See you back in another four or five months.

Happy

Just happy.

Which is good.

Because that's really all I wanted to be when I grew up.

My Brother's Back

I haven't seen him in over five years. My husband helped him unload the U-haul at my parents' house today, but I won't get to hug his neck until Friday. It's worth missing (sigh, again) the Veterans' Day parade.

I haven't seen my brother in over five years, and it's no one's fault, really. He's been in Central Florida for about the last eight or so years. He came up for a couple of Christmases. He came up for his Godson's baptism. He came up to help my mom during all of my dad's surgeries to repair his abdominal aortic aneurysm. I haven't seen him since.

My parents have visited him every year for a week at Thanksgiving.

They have offered to fly him up here for a holiday. But he hasn't come.

The kids have been too young to travel that far and not drive someone crazy. But we've been thinking, soon they'll be ready.

It's no one's fault, really.

He followed his job from Georgia to North Carolina to a management position in Florida. But the warehouse firm he worked for didn't treat him on the up and up, so after years of putting up with them, he resigned before they could unfairly skewer him like they had done to some of his peers.

He fell in love with a woman and her son, and she stood with him during his long unemployment. The economy, if you haven't heard, has been slow to recover in Florida, and who only knows what trash his former employer was spreading about him. She worked a good job, and my brother was a sort of a house-spouse: cooking great meals, keeping the house clean, being there for the young boy & helping him improve in his reading and school work, helping her move into a house and helping fix it up. The boy had his father to visit, his "real" grandparents to spend time with, so there was no time to travel to his "live-in" family. But something just didn't work out, and she asked him "to find somewhere else to live."

It's no one's fault, really. So he asked to come back here, to live, to figure out what to do next. We are glad to have him back, for however long he will be. We're glad that he has the trust & love & fondness for us to come back. It's not easy, once you've left, to ask, "Can I come back?" I've had to do that in my life, but under circumstances of my own making as I made an utter shambles of "my college career."

It's no one's fault, really. But I guess I'm glad it's working out this way.

Little Things Count

MLB is about to lose another tooth. This is significant. It'll be his fourth tooth gone.

It'll be the first tooth we parents can anticipate.

That tooth is so loose, it's almost lying sideways across his emerging primary incisors.

MLB is preparing for his first sacraments of Reconciliation and Communion this year, so I'm trying even harder to get him to pay attention to & participate in Mass. We use the "Magnifikids" weekly missalettes, but he is more interested in working the puzzles than following the Mass. Today he refused to stand for the entrance hymn and came close to pitching a fit if I didn't give him a pen right then & there for the puzzle. I had to whisper to him that the right thing to do was to participate in Mass, not do the puzzle; I told him that he was mad because I was telling him to do the right thing and not letting him do what he wanted to do. I told him that it's the same way God is with us; He tells us the right things to do but we want to do our own things, even if those aren't right, and we get mad. That got MLB's attention and he stood up. MLB loves God and wants to please Him. When MLB returned from Children's Liturgy of the Word, he asked what time would Communion be? (During my contemplation after receiving Eucharist is when I allow him to do the puzzle.) I told him there is no "time" by the clock, but a proper order, and he needs to follow along, again, in the Magnifikid.

Preparing a child with autism for anything outside his immediate focus of interest and outside of his comfort zone is not easy. The sacraments are important, so there is always this onus weighing subconsciously in the back of MLB's mind. He is a bit more aggitated in his behavior this year because if it.

I pray, often, for God to help him prepare this year. God reminds me that even I didn't really comprehend the importance of my first sacraments at that age; I just knew the basic facts, the prayers I was required to memorize. Funny, but I remember another third-grader & I once referring to the consecrated host as our "Good Pill," since as we got further away from Sunday, our behavior seemed to get worse. How childlike.

God tries His best to reassure me that everything, especially my son, is in His hands. He assures me that He is with my son in ways I won't perceive. I must continue to instruct my son, be a good example for my son and pray for my son. He'll do the rest, to bring the Wisdom into MLB's heart that growing in God will bring, just like in today's first reading, Wisdom 6:16, "For (Wisdom) herself searches everywhere for those who are worthy of her, benevolently appearing to them on their ways, anticipating their every thought."

So after the Agnus Dei and while the extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist are preparing to distribute Communion, MLB whispers to me. "What?" I ask, "Your shy poof?" Whisper. "Your shoe is goop?" It's not easy to hear him, as we sit right by the choir & the piano.

"My tooth is loose."

Well. God is with him.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Sometimes you've just got to hang with the neighbors. (We all should have done that years ago, but no day like today to start.)

Debbie & Jody had us all over to their house; he grilled hot-dogs & she made her grandmother's Cowboy Soup. Carl & Janey brought brownies, chips & pasta salad. Tim & Amanda sent baked beans with their oldest kids. Scott & I brought bananas, apples and the makings for S'mores. All-in-all, we had quite a spread with plenty of leftovers. (Here, why don't you take some of this home with you? Hey, why don't I leave a few of these here?)

All of the kids had the bestest of times, from the little 20 month old to the newly hatched teenager. Jody has made an awesome "treehouse" from scraps: they salvaged two slides, a friend's fence, various pieces of lumber from various projects, the leftover shingles from the re-roofing, "grass" outdoor carpet, even a old attic-access ladder. The only thing they bought was an extra long slide. It looks like it might have been made from a kit, but when you use it, you see that it's recycled and an original design. I was very impressed! The whole thing was great & proportioned such that the littlest kids could climb up to the top (about 20 feet off the ground) and back down to slides they were comfortable using. Well, by the end of the evening, Janey's C and my DLG were flying down the really tall slide, but younger siblings always do push the envelope.

MLB learned to use Nerf Dart guns. He never knew such a thing existed (we're such closet pacifists,) and he was overjoyed to shoot at the electronic target and get 100 points every time. Not that he gave that poor target a fighting chance, shooting as he was at point-blank range. Every kid 1st grade & up was armed and aiming. The oldest kids had the best accuracy, but then again, their father does work for HPD.

Oh, and the neighbors have a new puppy. If the temperature had been in the 80s, the kids would also have had a pool or something and been in utter backyard heaven.

We adults stood around talking & getting to know each other better as a neighborhood group, refereeing as necessary. The fire-pit was lit up in honor of the chill evening air, and those world's largest marshmallows were roasted on the world's largest toasting forks by happy dads & kids.

And I didn't have to worry about Auburn losing today. Oh my, yes.... it was a beautiful day indeed.

Lack of Content

I seriously considered just leaving this entry blank today.

I do not want to post a run-down of today's cleaning activities (although I did take some extra time to play chase with my daughter & get in plenty of hugs and tickles. Soon, too soon, she'll be too big for mommy-cuddles. And she's just so cuddly.)

I will say I'm looking forward to Saturday. I'll be taking my boy with me as I power-shop through South Huntsville; we'll end up at Costco for the snacky-snacks & a budget lunch date. Later in the afternoon we'll get together with all the neighbors "on the corner" for a weenie roast next door.

You won't BELIEVE the size of the marshmallows I found to roast!

Things Could Look Worse

Well, the few Halloween decoration I put up this year are now down & back into their boxes. I'll give myself about two weeks to get things really picked up before I let my husband haul out the tree & start stringing the lights.

No, I'm not a Christmas fanatic, but I like a lot of lights on my tree. We went pretty minimal with the tree last year; we weren't sure what an unfettered two-year-old would do to it, but she did pretty well. (She didn't actually pull the tree down on herself until after Epiphany when I had all of the decorations off so Scott could de-light it. I'm not sure if she wanted a closer look at the lights, or if she thought she could use the tree to boost her out of the playpen. Oh well, all survived.)

My house is SO piled up.

• There have been TWO laundry mountains-- adult & kid. It piles up quicker now that cold weather is here and I'm feeding my ancient machines smaller loads.
• I've also got summer 3T clothes pulled & awaiting distribution.
• Then there's the various piles of things for the Rummage Sale in February that need logging on my spreadsheet & stored; easier done if I don't have two little helpers saying, "Hey, that's mine!"
• Still haven't hit a lick at my scrapbooking.
• I've yet to finish all my mending & household repairs.
• My brother's moving back home, so a pile of stuff I'd stored in a bedroom at my parent's house came back here.
• Super-couponing has let me collect stuff for the monthly food pantry drive; but the church swaps up pantries each month, so the stuff leaves my house only every four weeks.
• And did I mention that we deemed our son so utterly irresponsible with his toys, that we removed them from his room & stored them in our old Protege? The boy doesn't seem to miss them--- AND my folks have ask me to lend my brother that car.

Uh-huh. Why on earth did I think I could squeeze out a blog post every day?!?

Oh yeah, my blog, my rant. (I feel better.)

November? Again?

NaBloPoMo? Wha? Even if I've totally krebbed the name, I'll try it again. I tried it last year, but I got slammed by that shared crud during the run of "The Odd Couple: Female Version," and totally derailed.

Not that I'm doing any BETTER this year, considering I slept through the first. Meh, I'll blame that on post Halloween sugar-rush hangover & PMS.

Just consider I'll owe ya' two on any given day.

Rock Party, Day 2

I took MLB with me on Saturday, October 15. He was excited to go! We weren't able to find a close parking place, because a bunch of folks decided to Occupy Big Spring Park.

Of course, he had to have his own dinosaur egg. We looked at this critter and at the list of possible dinosaurs; we came to the conclusion that it was a "protoceratops." This was good, as that triceratops are one of his favorite dinosaurs. He has named this little guy "First Horn" (apropos.)

Our first stop was the area with activity pages and dinosaur rubbings. That was quickly followed by a trip to the Rock-dig.

The club outdid themselves. Not only had they raked into the churt donated scraps from slab cuttings, but they'd also bought big buckets of quartz points and iron pyrite. Those quartz points were only thing on MLB's list to buy. Check that off! These are the boy's fabulous finds.

We visited the phosphorescent minerals and glass booth while we waited for space to clear at the gem-panning slue. I had no idea

what we'd be doing at the slue, but I was game, as was the boy. Let me say right here and now: I had WAY more fun than my son. I would have gladly paid over another $5 and rinsed rocks until my fingers were too pruney to pick anymore. Here's the setup: the club rents the trailer with the panning trays, collection buckets and panning bags, along with the slue. Then the club orders and buys mine tailings of various gemstones; in a large tub they mix scoops of tailings with dirt and fill the burlap bags.

If you know what you're looking for, you'll find a ton of stuff. MLB was good at finding the big stuff like quartz points (citrine, crystal and amethest) and more pyrite. I also showed him which were the garnets. (These are his "big" pieces.) He got bored while I hunted the smaller garnets, rubies, emeralds, the dark sapphires and the un-gemlike fluorite, aventurine, calcite, sodalite, corundum and agates. When I got through with that bag, there was not much left in the pan besides dirt. I learned all this while talking with one charming member who also works at the Burritt. She and I marveled at all the good pieces that ended up with the silt at the end of the slue (she said I could help myself!)

The poor boy entertained himself with repeat visits to the glow-in-the-dark tent and the activities area. I think his ADHD meds were wearing off, so we took a lunch break (& meds break.) We sat to eat by the Society's information table, and after we ate, I purchased six tickets for the drawings. He helped me chose what to register for; I insisted on trying for both sets of garnet earrings, while he preferred some mineral and fossil samples. After that we went to look at the vendors and other educational exhibits.

He loves animals and he loves turtles. We looked at several vendors who had dyed and carved Mexican agate before we settled on these little nik-nacks: the blue turtle is his, the green turtle is for his sister, and I figured the turtles needed some place to live, so the purple mushroom is mine. The "boulder" is a South Carolina garnet. One of the more enthusiastic vendors (who sold everything from raw stone & finishing machines to designed jewelry) had a bowl out that he was starting to polish. I saw them and pointed them out to my son, telling him they looked like "craisins." The gentleman was proud to tell us about
those gems and invited MLB to handle some stone samples and to chose for himself a garnet. Wow! As I said, rockhounds are a great bunch! I showed my son the fascinating things I'd found the day before-- the stalactites, the fossils, rocks bigger than him, the sparkling geodes of every size and composition. I showed him the magnetic rocks. These he liked, so I let him chose a round (and strong) one for himself and a freeform (and weaker) one for his sister. Some vendors called them hematite, some called them magnetic rocks (since my research has shown that they are most likely a manufactured item and not a mined one, but are modeled after the real thing.)

Speaking of hematite, I've wondered about the composition of my son's geode. His Godmother's niece gave it to him. The quartz is apparent, but the outer matrix has had me puzzled. It almost seems metallic. It took us a while to get a moment with Bill, one of the founding members (he was running the many merit badge courses.) I was told that if anyone would know, he would.

He and his contemporary sat down & examined it; I admitted that I had no idea of its origin; I listed the places I knew the family had traveled to. After a while with no consensus, they agreed-- with our permission-- to polish part of the cut edge to see if that would be more revealing. MLB was very interested in the different colored/numbered grinding & polishing wheels. I told him what they were doing while four gentlemen discussed our rock. The end opinion was a Mexican geode with a hematite matrix, not pyrite. The man who polished it apologized that he only had his flat-surface equipment with him; to polish the whole cut edge would lose too much geode. I'd be welcome to bring it to a meeting or demo when he had his other equipment running.

We had a great weekend with a great bunch of folks. We're looking forward to 2012. Who knows, they might even have a new member family that year.