A few more tears

Just when I think I've regained my composure...

I had just finished posting that last entry when Ken came into the room, and sat down beside me. He looked a little unsure as to how to start, and then he just blurted out,

"Um, this is awkward. I think. But I have a question for you..."

And he held up his father's wedding ring.

*cue me bursting into tears*

Mom had decided that Ken should be given dad's wedding ring. She did not say that he had to wear it. Only that it would have been what dad wanted, for his eldest son to keep the only piece of jewelry he had ever worn.

Ken wavered "I would wear it, I think, but not if it would make you uncomfortable, or if it's something you don't want me wearing."

I was overcome. That ring is so very special to me. In fact, in retrospect I'm thinking that subconsciously, I must have had Ken's ring designed to be very similar to his father's; white gold with a very subtle pattern. And it represents one of the very best marriages I have ever witnessed.

I couldn't be more proud of what that ring represents, and I couldn't be more pleased that my husband wants to wear it.

And that's a good thing, because he put it on, and I'm pretty sure it's not gonna come off without surgery now. I forgot that Ken's right ring finger was broken when he was younger, and the broken knuckle effectively became a lock, holding his father's ring in place.

I keep sitting down beside him, holding his hand, running my thumb over the 'new' ring.

It is so very precious.

The long drive home.

Amazingly enough, I was able to get pretty much everything done on Tuesday that really needed to get done.

I had all the dishes done by 5pm, and made an executive call. I would not be getting another thing dirty in my kitchen before the trip, therefore, we were going OUT for supper.

So off to the sushi place we went, the kids just pumped because they were getting sushi, and it wasn't a Special Friday Night with Dad, or a Wednesday Lunch with Mom. (um, yeah, maybe we go out a little bit too much for meals. I'll have to rein us in a bit). We were in and out in under an hour, full to the gills with sushi, and ready to go.

It was a hot muggy day, and I'd been running around, and I knew the kids had been running, too, so after hitting the grocery store (for last minute things that I knew the Irish Cousins would enjoy, and that the Ontario Niece had requested) we hit the house around 7pm. I was so proud of myself, I didn't even turn on the TV. It was just business, business, business. The kids went into the tub sequentially, and were all squeaky clean for the trip. Of course, all three of them ended up having spectacular Bed Head the next morning, but we were on the road, so who really cared?

I had all three kids in bed before 9, and that was even with Skip helping me pack the van. I had a nice luxurious shower, and then decided, after phoning Ken, and calling my dad, too, that I could watch just a LITTLE bit of tv before I packed it in, too. I had a few more loads of laundry to do, so I thought I'd kill 2 birds with one stone.

So I turned on the TV and watched the NCIS that I'd recorded. Oh, Mark Harmon, what an insipid and overtly telegraphing episode you directed. I really wanted better from you, but maybe it's for the best that it was a forgettable episode that I watched as the last load of laundry finished, before I headed off to bed before 10pm.

I usually sleep for crap on the night before a trip. I'm worried that I will sleep through the alarm, or that I'll wake up and not have a clue what it is that I'm supposed to do when the alarm goes off at 3:45. But I was in luck on Wednesday morning. I awoke to complete and absolute wakefulness at 3:03am. I guess that's what getting to bed at a reasonable hour will do. But instead of drifting back to sleep under my warm covers, I popped out of bed and decided that getting a bit of a head start was a grand idea.

The kids were a great help, and we were out the door by 3:30am. A full half hour before we usually hit the road. I imagine that we'd have gotten off to an even better start had I not realized, 3 blocks from home, that I'd left my camera batteries on the charger in the kitchen. But even with that U-turn and retracing of the steps, we were still gone by 3:39am.

I only had to drive like Steve McQueen twice.

First, as we were pulling out onto the freeway at 3:43am, I had my first real scare, and I hadn't even popped open my first Starbucks Doubleshot. I was coming around the full-circle on-ramp, only to discover that someone had lost a volkswagen-sized pile of cargo RIGHT in the middle of the onramp. I was able to swerve around, and the adrenaline rush stood me in great stead almost all the way into San Francisco. I didn't even pop the first Doubleshot until I was past the Ikea on the 80, and heading east, 30 minutes later.

(My worries about fog were unfounded. It was clear as a bell that early morning. Cold, but clear. Not a speck of fog until the sun was coming up, and then it was really just morning mist. Nothing like the pea-soup that I'd driven through on Tuesday morning while taking the kids to school.)

The second bit of Steve McQueen driving was much later in the day, when a 5-gallon white bucket suddenly decided to roll around on the shoulder, and rolled into my lane in rush hour traffic just north of Portland.

I was so proud of my kids on the trip, though. They got in the car, curled up into little balls, and proceeded to sleep for the first 4 hours of the trip. I didn't have to stop until nearly 8am, at some little pull-off Safeway-with-a-Starbucks. I loved having 240 miles of interruption-free driving under my belt by sunrise.

Oregon just goes on and on and ON, though. I crossed the border into Oregon at 9am, and just couldn't stop enough times to make it bearable. There was a gas stop, then there was a lunch stop, then there was a rest-area stop, then there was ANOTHER rest area stop, and then there was gas again, just before Portland (and RUSH HOUR! Wheeee!) And then I started to flag, which was really depressing, because I knew I still had ONE MORE STATE to drive through before I could be done, and Oregon had taken a soul-crushingly long 6 hours.

But then I hit Washington, and I didn't feel the need to stop any more. The kids swung back into a routine of watching movies and watching the road, and whining "are we there yet?", and I entered my Zen State of driving with one eye open, so the other one could rest.

Yeah, that's safe.

Fortunately, J-jumping came to the rescue with a phone call.

Oh wait. I called her.

Yeah. I was a little punchy. For the sake of this story, let's assume her eldest son (aged 14.5) is named Charles Jones. So I phone, and (because I can never tell if it's J-jumping answering the phone, or her 17 year old daughter who SOUNDS JUST LIKE HER), when the phone is answered, I giggle into the phone, and say "tee hee, is this Charlie Jones' mother? tee tee tee hee heh hee" Well, I immediately knew that it was NOT J-jumping answering the phone when the voice on the other end audibly sighed and said "Um, DUH, no, this is NOT his mother. This is his *sister*. I'll go get his mother..." I swear, you could HEAR her rolling her eyes.

Well, I can't put anything past J-jumping, so when I repeated my question when SHE answered the phone, she didn't fall for it at all.

And then she proceeded to regale me with stories that were hilariously funny, probably unrepeatable, and definitely ones that I have VERY little recall of. I know they were funny, because we were laughing like loons, but what were we talking about? No clue. It woke me up, though. Perked me RIGHT up, and made my drive through ridiculously stop-and-go south Tacoma rush hour traffic bearable.

And then we were at the hotel in Arlington. Unfortunately, they did NOT have Nate's blanket that he left there in July, but Nate was pretty sanguine about things, and was happy to shrug his shoulders, and race to the pool.

It was around 9pm, as we were bedding down for the night, that I realized that we had eaten nothing since 11am in Roseburg, Oregon. The kids were hungry, and I was in my jammies, and exhausted, and was not going to go out and grab any night lunches for them. We just went to bed, with the promise of a Free Hot Bar breakfast in the morning. WHoopsie. I'll be getting my Conscientious Mother Of The Year award in the mail next week.

The beds were VERY comfortable. For the price we paid, they should've been made by elves, and massaged you while you slept, but I was tired enough to settle for "very comfortable and down-filled comforters". I probably shouldn't have watched the Muppets Wizard of Oz, though, as I had weird dreams in the night of being on The Price is Right with that Gene Whats-his-name who was on Match Game, and having to play a price-checking game involving dancing barefoot on astroturf on a hill with a Dyson vacuum cleaner against Doogie Howser, and that very well-heeled woman who used to be on the panel of What's My Line with Bennet Cerf.

We got up at 6 yesterday morning, packed up as fast as three exhausted kids who don't want to listen to their mother will pack, had a very mediocre complimentary breakfast, fed the koi and rainbow trout in the hotel pond, and were back on the road by 7:30. We had the most trouble-free border crossing, with a very empathetic border guard, who looked like she might burst into tears herself when I said that we were driving up for Grandpa's funeral. And then we bee-lined it for the ferry, missing the 9am ferry by about 4 minutes.

WHoopsie again.

But we made it with plenty of time to spare for the 11am ferry, and made it to Grandma's house by 1:15pm.

When I got there, and had unpacked the hundred-or-so pounds of goodies for all the brothers and their kids, Ken let me know that his brother Fred (the professor in Ireland) was coveting Ken's red felted wool socks that I made him for Christmas, so I went out and bought black (Fred's choice) Patons Classic Wool at Beehive Wool Shop (a store for which I have a customer loyalty card. Yes, I have a problem. I admit it. Let's move on.) and am now knitting him up a pair that I will partially felt onto Ken's feet before mailing to Fred for Christmas.

And I may or may not have had a cashmere accident in Beehive Wool Shop.

I was sleep deprived. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Tears, they are still close.

On the whole, I've been pretty amazed at how at peace our whole family has been over dad's death.

I think it really helped that he was JUST here last week, and we had some amazing (and some might say creepily foreshadowing) conversations about getting old and dying.

But then, in the oddest moments, I'll be overcome with a wave of sadness at a memory that has seemingly NO relevance to dad or his memory.

Like, I was pouring Rice Crispies for Kelly for breakfast yesterday, and all of a sudden I realized that a week earlier, mom had been pouring the same cereal into the same bowl for dad. Cue waterworks.

Or, I was sitting down putting on my shoes, and I realized that dad had sat Right There, and on several occasions had said "You like my jacket? My cheap daughter-in-law bought it for me AT A THRIFT STORE! Can you imagine? Is that what I'm worth? Not even full price?" And he'd have this delightful twinkle in his eyes, because there were very few things he valued more than thrift. (and he was rarely without that very same jacket, too, I might add. I hit a home run finding that thing).

Or I was cleaning up yesterday, and I found an envelope under the coffee table. It was from mom and dad to Kelly. That was Just Last Week. So weird to think about how life can change in an instant. It hits me in the heart for a second, and then I have to smile, as I think about dad, sitting there on the sofa with his feet up, reading one of Kelly's novels, and probably kicking the envelope under the table so it wasn't in the way.

My Boggle Master game is still sitting on the kitchen counter. When they were here, mom, dad, and Ken (and sometimes Skip) would say they'd play Boggle with me if they were allowed to pool their scores to try to defeat me. We played so many games last week. And the high point, probably, was this one flukish round where everyone canceled out most of my words, and dad managed to BEAT ME all by himself. He asked if we'd frame that sheet, so everyone would always remember how he'd "conquered the master". Ken had found a copy of Boggle Master (it's the 5x5 board) on eBay, and had bought it for mom and dad, and they took it back to Canada with them. I hope they got to play it at least once before he died, because a game of Boggle was part of their post-lunch routine, and they got home on Saturday morning. Saturday would have been a Boggle Lunch day if they'd managed to unpack.

Ken flew home yesterday. Even though we live more than a thousand miles away, we are the closest family. His brothers are scattered around the globe, and have been scrambling to find flights and connections that will get them home. Two brothers arrive tonight, and two more will fly in on Thursday. Ken tells me that mom is doing much better today than she was yesterday. She has such a serene grace about her, it's almost eerie. I know this is a tried and true coping mechanism, but I do hope that she gets to have time alone to just cry in peace. She is not one to show her emotions (if they involve her alone) in public. Ken assures me that he is running interference, and doing all he can to take mundane burdens off her shoulders, so she is given some time and space.

I will be driving to Canada tomorrow, leaving the house at 4am (or earlier, if I can't sleep). I have some Starbucks Doubleshots in the fridge (coffee is vile, but these things work like a charm, and they're easier to chug if they're ice-cold). The fog this morning was abyssmal. And that was at 8am driving kids to school. At 4am, it's gonna be like driving in soup. And *that* is what I am NOT looking forward to the most.

I've spent much of yesterday and today running errands and shopping,

One cousin is flying in from Toronto. She's requested Ghirardelli chocolate for herself, and Airborne for her mom who can't come.

One brother is flying in from Ireland. I've got a whole suitcase full of stuff for his kids. Games, primarily, and books. Things that we were ALMOST ready to mail to him (for some astronomical shipping cost). But also things like Altoids, and turkey jerky, and M&M's. Comfort food, as I like to call it.

Another brother is flying in from Montreal. I've got Trader Joe's noodle-in-a-box meals for his daughter, who can't fly out. I need to find something for his son, who is Skip's age. Maybe a dark chocolate bar.

The brother flying in from Dubai has requested nothing. That's nice. I was drawing a blank for him, anyways.

The last brother is flying in with his wife and kids from Halifax. He wants nothing, too, but I can't resist. His kids are just so CUTE, I've gotta bring them some little things. And a TinTin movie. They'll like that.

Dad's favorite treat was to have a single Dove Dark Chocolate after supper. When they were here last week, I presented them with two bags of Dove Dark Chocolate Promises. I'd found them at Target 2/$4, which is an amazing deal, they're usually more than $4 a bag. Mom laughed, and brought out her little notebook. "That was on my list to get for your dad, but now I can just cross it off. One less thing to worry about on our trip home." At Target today, I bought 6 more bags of them. I'm going to put them out in a bowl at the memorial service. Or maybe just keep them at the house for visitors.

I was making copies of pictures this morning. Mom wants some for the memorial service.

This is the photo that they'll put on the screen at church. It was on the beach at la Grande Motte in France in March. That was a vibrant family time, and I am so grateful for all those wonderful enduring memories.

Well, I should get busy.

I've packed for the kids.

Haven't even thought about what to pack for me.

That's the next order of business.

A fitting end.

Last weekend, Ken's folks were down here, watching Kelly get baptized.

It filled their hearts with joy.

On their drive home, they took the long way, going up the coast, watching the waves, heading over the mountains, taking back roads, getting lost, rolling into their driveway early Saturday morning.

This morning, they did what they did every morning. They got up early, did their devotions, got ready, cleaned up, and then went for their morning 3-mile walk around the golf course.

And then they walked in the door, where dad promptly fell over.

Dead.

We will miss him desperately, but what a way to go. Instead of going to church this morning, Dad got to 'do church' with God himself.

I worry about Ken. He's the oldest son, and even though we live a thousand miles away, we're the closest geographically. There will be a lot of responsibility on his shoulders over these coming weeks.

CBEST

Well, I'm off to find some high school in some city I've never cruised through. It's time for the CBEST. This is the test everyone who teaches must take in order to teach in California. Apparently, subs also take this test, and because I thought it might be a lark to substitute teach in the district... argh. What was I thinking?

I am now about to go subject myself to a 4 hour test that will show me just how dumb I have gotten in the years since I had kids. I used to be a Test Taker. That was my super-power in college.

My only consolation is that there are two exam questions, and I'm hoping that my Mad Blogging Skillz will come into play there. Either that, or I will look at the exam questions and say to myself "Hey! I just read a GREAT answer to that question on so-and-so's blog, and I'm gonna use all of his/her ideas."

I spent the night having dreams about the exam. What a hoot. Not:

A car leaves Chicago travelling 25 miles per hour heading south. A mosquito leaves the car's destination 100 miles south of Chicago, flying at the super-hero mosquito speed of 50 miles per hour. Every time it meets the car, it touches the car, and instantly turns around, maintaining its velocity, travelling back and forth between the car and the destination. The car takes 4 hours to reach its destination. How far does the mosquito fly in total?

Yes. Obsess much?

And then I dreamt that I 'took some free hamsters off someone's hands' on Craigslist. I thought it was a cage with a pair, but it turned out to be seven hammies. Dwarfs. And the only room we had was in Skip's room, and it was such a sty that he'd become infested with bugs. And the hammies got loose (because they were so CUTE! And the liked to walk up my arms! And they snuggled! And then they leapt off into the void, and were never seen since! And Skip was incensed, and wasn't gonna talk to me until he found out that the little dwarf hammies were eating all the bugs in his room.

Apart from the seething mass of insect-infested food on Skip's floor in the dream (a portent of things to come? A wake-up call?), the dream was pretty fun. Who knew that dwarf hamsters could be so fun?

I hope there's a question about hamster biology on the test. I'll have that one covered.

Well, if I leave now, I can stop at Starbucks!

Triops 3.0.

Triops two point zero lasted JUST long enough for both sets of grandparents to be equal parts impressed and creeped out.

(not my photo. Found this on the 'net somewhere. Creeptacular critters, and I could never have taken a shot like this in their little plexiglass pond)

We came back from a lovely Thai supper, the nine of us, to discover that both Triops 2.0 had bit the dust while we were out eating.

Now that's good timing.

So while Ken and Kelly were showing Grandpa and Grandma how to play Stone Age, I was upstairs, flushing Sparky and Flippy down the toilet (and from there, down the brand spankin' new twelve hundred dollar drain. Ouch), and setting up the Triops Pond for Triops 3.0.

With any luck, there will be motion in the tank tomorrow, and we'll watch them with the magnifying glasses.

Seriously, they are pretty cool science pets.

---

My folks arrived just before four o'clock this afternoon. I gave my dad his birthday present, gave my mom some sock yarn, and then rushed both sets of grandparents out the door so that we could all go down to Kung Fu to watch Nate join Kelly in her class. He's almost ready to graduate from his Tiger Belt series, and that will put him in Kelly's class, maybe as a Gold Belt, maybe as an Orange Belt, so for the next week or two, he'll be sitting in (standing in, jumping-jacking in, roundhouse kicking in) on her class, to get used to the pacing of it, before he graduates in October.

I was so pleased that Toni called me when she went to pick up Cole from the after school clubs. She wondered if she could just bring Skip down to Kung Fu, saving me a trip. Woo hoo.

And while Nate was taking his second class (and the grandparents were snapping photos like Paparazzi), I took my folks down the road to get them settled in their hotel for the weekend.

---

Kelly scored some sweet swag from my folks.

I scored 5 pounds of Canadian butter.

Yes, mom. My thighs thank you.

(but my GOODNESS, is this great butter, or what?... *goes off to make one last piece of toast*)

Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we'll find out what other swag was brought down.

I made one of those Snapfish albums of our Seaside vacation with my folks. It arrived yesterday. Just in the nick of time. I wrapped it up for my dad for his birthday present. I think it was a hit.

And my mom loved the yarn, and the little metal-smithed quail garden ornament thingy that we got for her.

Tomorrow morning, I'm making French Breakfast Puffs. So I can have MORE of my Canadian Butter. Oh, it's gonna be a golden day.

---

I am moderately amped.

That's what I get for having an afternoon nap.

A nap? How do I fit it all in? you may be asking.

Well, Nate gets out at 2:30-ish, and Kelly gets out just after 3:00. And because Skip had after school clubs today, I just waited at the Elementary school after getting Nate, to grab Kelly. And it was a hot, hot day, so I took Nate into the library for the 40 minute wait. And then I realized that I'd done everything that I needed to do in the library for the week, and there really wasn't anything for me to spend my time doing.

So I sat down in a comfy chair...

And Fell Asleep.

Oh man, was I discombobulated when I woke up at 3:03, absolutely certain that it was Saturday, and WHY did they let me sleep so long, and was the school all locked up, and WHY was Nate still sitting there beside me, reading the SAME King Tut book...

Yeah. I don't do 'waking up' well.

But I've recovered, and now that I think about it, it really was a sweet little nap.

I think I'll stay up late sewing book bags for Miss Farthing (Kelly's former First Grade Teacher). And then I can sew MORE bags for Mrs Archer (Nate's current First Grade Teacher), because Mrs. Archer saw Miss Farthing's bags, and was "In Love!"

Yeah.

Paint me with sucker paint.

Child Labour

Well, the plumbers arrived.

Right on time.

So I've got my Russian plumber, with his Central American assistant, and I'm hearing instructions being given under the house in heavily Russian-accented Spanish.

Ooh! I just heard a pipe crash and a bang under the house, and some very colorful language. If only I was quicker, I could be learning International Swear Words.

And my inlaws just came back from their morning constitutional, only to discover that there's NO WATER IN THE HOUSE.

No taps. No washing. No watering. And Absolutely No Flushing.

NO FLUSHING.

Let me say it again.

NO FLUSHING.

So Ken's folks are going to leave early for their luncheon with Ken at New Hip Company. And they'll stop at the mall on the way there, so they can wash up after their strenuous 3 mile walk. Yes, the morning constitutional really is something of merit. None of this namby-pamby walk around the block business. They walked to the NEXT CITY OVER, and back.

---

Yikes, there was just some loud noses, and the sounds of power tools, and a giant SHUDDERING under the house.

And it sounds like the plumbers are RIGHT beside me. Who knew that floors stop sound about as well as bedroom walls.

---

My folks arrive this afternoon.

They'll be staying at a local hotel. They like their space.

(good grief, there's that house-shuddering pipe-cutting again)

Have I mentioned that I haven't knit a SINGLE STITCH since we were together with them in Oregon... in JULY?

I think since then (when I taught my mom how to knit socks) she's knit TWO PAIRS of the things.

I suck as a knitter.

Oh, that reminds me, I bought some great sock yarn for mom as a giftie for when they arrive. Gotta go find that... brb.

... OOH! I bought TWO skeins of that yarn. Maybe we'll knit socks together this weekend.

Yesterday was my dad's birthday. 68. I remember when he turned 40. It really doesn't seem like that long ago. And why did he seem SO OLD when he turned 40, and I'm 43, and I don't feel a day over 20. Yikes.

Tomorrow is my folks' 45th anniversary.

I meant to make them one of those snapfish photo albums. Whoopsie. That'll have to wait until Christmas. Argh, I'm a bad daughter. Lots of ambition, and absolutely ZERO follow-through.

(uh oh. Now the plumbers are yelling at each other. This does not sound good. Maybe I should bake them something).

---

Heh. I just realized that I titled this entry because I actually, like, you know, had a TOPIC in mind when I started.

This is what I've been putting Kelly to work doing these last few weeks.

She's my little library-slave.

Being Punished

On Wednesday, when the plumber came out to take a look-see under the house, I was given a window of time when he "might" arrive. (Back Story: We had a routine termite inspection last week, and the termite guy, when he came out from under the house, said "So, how long has your kitchen drain not been attached to the main drain? You really should have a plumber look at that. Soon." Egads!)

This is what the phone call sounded like:

Scheduler: I have you scheduled for Wednesday, between 9 and noon. Can you be home during that time?

Me: Yes, But I'll be dropping kids off at school until 9, and I have to leave at twelve to get kids from school, as it's a half-day.

Her: OK, I'll have the plumber call you when he's on his way, so you'll have a better idea of when he will be at your house.

So as I hear that? The plumber's gonna call, right?

Wednesday morning rolls around.

I'm doing the 3-kid shuffle.

And I realize I'm almost out of gas.

And I've got a ton of processed books for the Elementary School library in the back of the van.

And I look at my watch and think "He'll be there between NINE and NOON. I bet I can go get gas, and drop off these books, and STILL get home by 9. And won't I be efficient?"

So I drop off the kids, and scream off to the gas station, and fill the tank, and then scream back to the school to drop off the boxes of books to go into the collection, and it's 9:05, and I'm just a bit nervous, but not TOO nervous, because HEY, you know how the cable company works... they tell you 9 to noon, and then arrive at 1:30 looking all innocent.

And my phone rings.

"Hello, this is the scheduler at the plumber's office. Can I get your address? He says he's at your house, and there's nobody home."

WHOOPS.

SO I apologize profusely, and say I'm a half mile from home (only a slight under-estimate) and heading home, and she says "Well, I knew that you'd said you have to drop kids off at school..."

---

Fast forward to this morning.

The scheduler phoned Wednesday afternoon, once they found out that they're going to have to take TWO plumbers the ENTIRE MORNING to replace the plumbing disaster under the house, and I've been scheduled for Friday morning. And because it's a big job, I'm the FIRST TICKET on their schedule, and they will be here at 8:30 SHARP.

Yes, I said, I will be SURE to be home. I'll have someone else take the kids to school.

And now it's 9:25.

And there's NO SIGN of the plumbers.

And I'd really, really, REALLY like to be able to use my kitchen sink. And the dishwasher. And I probably shouldn't use the washing machine this morning, if they're going to be fiddling with the MAIN DRAIN under the house...

So I guess I'm being punished for my tardiness on Wednesday.

Ack.

---

In other news, I think S'more is in heat.

Good grief, she went off like a Mad Cow last night. We had her out for a minute, she got to have a little kissy-through-the-bars with Midnight (Kelly's idea), and then she turned into a complete nut bar. She was racing around her cage, rubbing against the bars, rolling over on her back, running in circles, then suddenly stopping to scratch herself.

Oh good grief, I hope she doesn't have fleas. That would be the worst!

Actually, if she had scrapies, that would be worst. Apparently, hamsters CAN get a prion-sourced disease much like Mad Cow Disease.

Joy!

---

Ah! Word from the plumber.

Apparently, one of the plumbers who was coming to the house today (we need two... ca-CHING) had a family emergency this morning.

They're on their way. Should be here before 10:30.

I wonder if they'll work faster, so they can be done by noon.

Fingers crossed.

The Happy Couple. To scale.

S"more is getting more and more accustomed to her surroundings.

The little bits of peanut butter on the fingertips seem to be really doing the job. She nearly comes running now, when she hears Kelly coming into the room.

Of course, Midnight is all Johnny on the Spot when he hears her, because he's just HOPING that he'll get taken out of his cage, and get to see... HER... the love of his life.

I swear, it's hilarious. Kelly will handle S'more first, and then she'll put her back in her cage to groom herself, and when she goes over to Midnight's cage, he's standing up on his hind legs, waiting to get picked up (through his cage door in the roof of his house) And when Kelly reaches in to pick him up, his first order of business is to lick her fingers, everywhere his Beloved has walked.

Kelly's getting a real good introduction into the world of Animal Magnetism.

And she can hardly wait for S'more to be old enough to 'date'.

So she teases the hammies with supervised visits.

(stupid S'more has decided to build her nest in her penthouse exercise ball. That makes her only slightly smarter than Midnight, who uses his exercise ball as a porta-potty)

"Look, mom. They're trying to kiss through the cage!"

I don't know if you can get the idea of exactly HOW much bigger Midnight is than S'more. He's probably three times her size, maybe four, weight-wise.

Here.

Midnight:

And S'more, in the same set of hands.

Awww. More kissing!

But I should pack it in.

Dawn came early this morning... ouch. This Monday, Wednesday, Friday jazz band zero period business is killing me.

The beginning of the end?

Both sets of inlaws are descending on us this weekend.

In preparation for the assault, I have started getting the house in order.

Yeah, who knew that I could actually be on the ball, and start getting ready for Wednesday on Monday? I'm all grown up, or something.

But anyways. In order to make things work, Nate will move in with Skip in his room, Kelly and the Hammies will move into Nate's room, and then Grandpa and Grandma can have Kelly's room (minus the hamsters and their unique bouquet)

So this morning, I'm moving things around, and before we leave for school, Kelly and I move Midnight and S'more over into Nate's room, onto cleared spaces on the dresser and the toy box. Kelly suddenly says "Eeeew, gross!"

"What's up?" I ask, knowing, of course, that Midnight, being a boy-hamster, tends to make a more caustic stink in his cage.

"Mom, Midnight pees on his wheel, and it's all DARK!"

Well, we knew that Midnight had decided a while ago that instead of actually EXERCISING on his exercise wheel, he was going to use it as a wobbly potty. I try to keep up with the cleaning, wiping it out occasionally, so that it's not accumulating a sticky dark pee-coating. So I just said "Don't worry, honey, I'm cleaning the cages this morning." and we left it at that.

We go off to school, I run a few errands, and I head home to clean cages and start laundry before I have to go to the library to volunteer.

First order of business? Midnight's cage.

I open his cage, and he comes running. He's so well trained. "maybe she has a treat? Maybe she has peanut butter on her finger?" (thanks for that tip, special fave of mine!)

I put him in his wheel, and got ready to clean out the cage.

There was a lot more sunlight in Nate's room than there had been in Kelly's room when we moved the cages, and when I popped open Midnight's cage, something became immediately apparent.

It was not dried up old dark piddle in Midnight's exercise wheel.

It was blood.

And the blood was sticky and fresh.

I looked at Midnight. He was gaily tooling around in his little exercise ball, exploring the perimeter of Nate's room. He didn't look sick at ALL. There was no matted fur. There was no lethargy. There was no dullness in his eyes.

Just this puddle of blood in his exercise wheel.

So I cleaned up the cage, and gave the wheel a good scrubbing. And when I brought the cage back into Nate's room, I saw something I was hoping I wouldn't see.

Midnight had peed while out in his exercise ball, and there was a small red puddle in the middle of the floor.

I read as much as I could get my hands on for the remainder of the time I had at home before heading out. Looks like hamsters are very prone to getting bladder stones. Especially after they turn ONE. Who knew that a one year old hamster was already considered Of Advanced Age? Midnight's almost TWO. He should be collecting Hamster Social Security checks, by this information.

While a veterinarian can operate to remove the stones, this seems like a great deal of grief and effort for a pet that probably only has a few more months of good life left. He doesn't seem to be in any pain at all, is eating and drinking fine, and hasn't changed his habits at all. I've looked up a few things, and will cut back on the fatty treats (he's such a sucker for Yogurt Drops, which are pretty high in fat), and will introduce dandelion leaves, which should help him pee more freely. But looking at the contiguous volume of piddle he produced, he doesn't seem to be having any difficulty with stopping and starting. And until I see some changes in his behaviour, I'm going to just keep mopping up the pink piddle, and hope that he's truly not in any distress.

I'm not ready to go back to being a one-hamster family just yet.

And I'm sure that Kelly isn't, either.

Escape Artist

S'more just escaped.

Good grief.

That creature is made of lightning. Lightning coated with grease.

One minute, she's sitting on Kelly's bed, cradled in Kelly's arms, getting a little Good Night snack before we turn out the lights, the next nanosecond, she's leaping off Kelly's arm, and out into the void. A triple half-gainer with a back flip, and she's somewhere on the floor, blending in with the carpet, and she's GONE.

*shakes fist at the hamster-coloured carpeting*

And of course, the lights are low, and Kelly immediately BURSTS into uncontrollable sobbing tears, and I'm distracted, so I don't see where S'more goes after she does a belly flop onto the carpeting.

All the commotion brings Ken into the room, where he has the presence of mind to close the door, and put a towel-baffle down across the gap at the door's base. But he's in Review Writing Purgatory, and has 15 peer review to write before midnight, so he REALLY doesn't have the bandwidth to be dealing with this.

Ack. So much for my New Week's Resolution to get the kids in bed with lights out by 8:15.

So my first thought was that I'd seen her go under Kelly's dresser. And hamsters, they are the Champlains of the rodent world. If there is a nook to be explored, they are all over it.

Cue the emptying of all Kelly's drawers. Oh man, what a mess. And her bed had been so neatly made, too. By this point, Kelly's sobbing had been reduced to the occasional blubbering, which she managed to keep in check when I'd say "Shh, let's listen to hear if we can find out where S'more is"

And then we had an idea. S'more and Midnight are "in love", says Kelly. More likely, Midnight is a horn dog, and can't wait until he can have his way with the little filly. But he's got a definite attraction towards S'more, and so Kelly suggests we put him in his Hamster Ball, and set him loose to hunt her down, much like a Bloodhound after an escaped convict.

So Midnight is corralled, and put into his ball, and off he goes across the vast expanse of newly-cleared floorspace. Now, whether or not he's actually following a scent is anyone's guess, but he tracks back and forth across the floor like some Olympic sprinter. (This gives me great hope that he'll bring home the gold in October 4th's Petco Invitational Hamster Ball Derby!, which Kelly registered him for this afternoon, btw)

The only bad thing is that Midnight does not understand the concept of Quiet Running. So any hope that I had of setting him loose, and then listening to S'more give away her position with a little scurrying, or a little nibbling of some hidden seed treasure is shot to bits.

And then, after a HALF HOUR of this, where things are beginning to look bleak, very bleak indeed, suddenly S'more darts out from some crevice in the closet, darts across my toes, and then sits there, beside my foot, looking up at me as if to say "Well, I'm done with this freedom business. Put me back in my cage, please."

This, of course, set Kelly back into tears. (me too, nearly.)

And I reach down, and cradle the little escape artist, and I wonder how it is that I'm so very relieved to be petting and nuzzling this little walnut-sized creature, when only two hours earlier, I was picking up a nearly-identical sized mouse carcass from the garage, and dispatching it to the trash can with hardly a backwards glance. They're both rodents. They have identical beady little black eyes. Yet one of them is a nuisance, and the other makes my daughter's heart sing.

S'more

Please, Sir... can I have S'more?

OK, we had a bit of an accident this afternoon.

Kelly and I went out running errands after church. I had a bunch of stuff to drop off at the thrift store, and then, seeing as I was there already, we poked around, and there had just been a metric butt-load of books donated, so I had to go through them, and buy a bunch of $0.69 books... apparently because bringing home 42 books that were culled from the library last week just weren't ENOUGH juvie novels for me.

And then, seeing as we were in that neck of the woods, I took Kelly to Dairy Queen for lunch. Just a girly-lunch of trans fat and french fries dipped in mayo.

Yes, the diet starts TOMORROW!

And then, seeing as Petco was JUST NEXT DOOR, we stopped in there for a little promenade to walk off some of the fatty lunch.

...

I knew it was dangerous to go shopping when hungry.

I thought it was safe to go shopping when I was NOT hungry.

Apparently not.

Meet S'more.

As in "Can I have s'more?"

"Doesn't she look like a graham cracker and a marshmallow?"

"Soon we will have S'more hamster babies."

FIled under: Can this end well?

Some days, we have the most idyllic of family experiences.

I putter in the sparklingly clean kitchen, apron shielding my housedress. Ken sits in his easy chair, reading the paper (online). The children frolic in their make-believe games...

...and then I wake up from my daydream.

Oh yes, there are make-believe games.

Just imagine what sort of games you can come up with when you match up Mr. Gullible, Miss Encouragement, and Mr. Reads-Too-Many-Scary-Books.

This was the scene I peeked out on when the kids were being JUST a little too quiet.

I never thought to ask them what nefarious purposes they had in mind for the pitchfork.

Do you smell smoke?

I drove the four girls off to Horse Camp this morning.

It always smells nicer in the car on the way THERE, than on the way BACK.

I stayed out there for a bit and took photos. And one of the ranch hands took a photo of ME with the four girls and the horses. I was all full of "Squee! Photos of ME with horses!" and suddenly I'm 10 years old again.

Anyways.

After a lot of running around and getting stuff done, and going here and there and having lunch with Toni (who is responsible for getting the girls this afternoon), I was driving home, and decided, on a lark, to take the freeway home instead of the 'scenic route'.

I kid you not, as I'm coming up the freeway, the big overhead sign suddenly flashes "HIGHWAY CLOSED. FIND ALTERNATE ROUTE".

And this would be the ONLY highway that goes to horse camp. The ONLY road that goes over to where the girls are is currently closed in not one, but TWO places. The closure closest to my house is due to a lovely FIRE!!!!! This fire is currently 5 acres and growing (and I didn't see it when I was coming back from camp? Jackie! I was talking to you when I drove RIGHT BY where the fire is. I guess those thing grow faster than I thought. Egads!) Right now? Inside my house? I can SMELL THE FIRE. And I could see the thick billowy black clouds when I took my exit off the freeway.



OK, it's not the ONLY road, but in order to take another route, you can go 15 miles south, and then take a VERY windy road (the Dramamine Detour) through the mountains, coming out 15 miles south of Horse Camp, and then you have to head north, where... ta DA! The OTHER CLOSURE is. This one is some big traffic accident that's closed the road in both directions. Apparently, there are a lot of cars trapped between the accident and the fire, and they can't go ANYWHERE.

There is a third route. This one involves heading up nearly all the way to San Francisco, and then going out to the coast, and coming down by Devil's Slide. I wonder if that route's open... It wasn't 2 summers ago, when the slide actually, like, SLID.

All I can say is I am VERY glad that today is NOT my day to drive the girls.

*does a little washing-my-hands-of-the-whole-affair dance*

And so it begins

The last full week of Summer Vacation '08.

 

Let's start it off with a full day of fun in the sun with horses... AND NO SUNSCREEN.

Yes, I'll be getting my 'Best Mother Of The Year" plaque in the mail shortly.

Look!  Baby chickens!  (and a very sunburnt face)

 

I love, love, LOVE that she's completely unafraid around all this livestock.

 

Kind of like her mother...

 

But still.  That sunburn!  Ouch.

Oh look!  It's Java!  Her bestest favouritest horse.

And she was thrilled to discover that whoever it was who told her that her horse from last year, Cheval, was dead, was a dirty stinking lying liar.

Behold, Cheval.

Older.  Greyer, but still beautiful and lovely in Kelly's eyes.  And perfectly gentle for Kelly's good friend (and novice horse-rider) who is going to horse camp with her this week.

Oh, it's gonna be a great week!

 

 

 

RIP

It would appear that Exoskeletor passed away peacefully some time yesterday. Live fast, die young, I guess. He was 24. That'd be DAYS old. And he was about as big as my thumb nail.

I thought Nate might be upset about losing one of his 'pets', but when I asked him if he'd noticed anything about his Triops, he made jazz hands, and rolled his eyes back in his head while sticking out his tongue. Yes, the international symbol for "death".

So now begins the Triops Deathwatch 2008. My guess is that Junior (the slightly smaller Triops, which, I think, probably hatched a day or two AFTER Exoskeletor) won't be far behind in his trip over the Rainbow Bridge.

When I told Nate about it, his response was "Great! Then we can start another batch?"

I guess I'm raising a farmer, or something. Finish the first crop, and get the second crop rotated in asap.

---

My jet-setting daughter is once again out of the house.

This week, it's Horse Camp. Hmm. I wonder if this is turning me into some sort of Stepford Wife (or Stepford Mother?). But THIS horse camp is no country-club walk in the park with English Saddles, or anything. They go out to this ramshackle farm (and I use the term loosely. It's more like an assortment of nearly-abandoned 5th wheels up on blocks), and spend the day gathering the horses, cleaning them, grooming them, feeding them, herding the goats that escape, gathering eggs from the chickens, re-filling the old wheelbarrow that acts as the impromptu duck pond, and THEN they get to ride. It's sort of child labour, but the kids LOVE it.

Last week, we had her BFF from 2nd grade come visit. Kate moved away last year, so Kelly had to break in a new BFF for school, but she still has a soft spot in her heart for Kate. And the feeling's mutual. So Kate's parents have kept in touch, and on Thursday, we went and got Kate for an extended play date.

First, there was play time:

Then there was a sleep-over.

THEN there was a trip to the aquarium!

And how cool is this? LEAFY SEA DRAGONS! And weedy sea dragons! And pot bellied sea horses.

No sooner had we returned from a full day at the aquarium, than it was time to pack a bag, and send Kelly off with Kate's family... TO YOSEMITE.

I swear this child has a wilder set of opportunities than I *ever* knew. Heh.

Somewhere, there are photos of Yosemite. Not on my camera, though. I wasn't invited.

Ah, there's one:

And THEN?

She gets delivered home Sunday afternoon, and no sooner has she walked in the door than the phone is ringing with ANOTHER friend wondering if she's busy.

Of. Course. Not.

So more playing!

And this time? Because she's going into 4th grade, and wants her independence? We let the girls go off on a bike hike in the neighbourhood. it's probably the safest place in the universe, our neighbourhood on a Sunday afternoon, but my heart was still in my throat until they came charging back up the driveway, wanting ice cream.

And I want her to be able to bike to school this year? Eek. I'd better loosen the apron strings a bit more.

While the mighty bike hikers were off on their trip, I took a few photos in the yard.

We have visitors.

Wasting TIme

Man, there is BARELY a week left of summer vacation, and I had a list as long as my arm of stuff that I just KNEW I had enough time to do this summer (do I even dare admit that I thought I'd be able to paint the outside of the house and the fences this summer?  Egads).

Yeah.

Buh-bye summer.  Hope the door doesn't hit you on the way out.  Yikes.

I know that we did SOMETHING, but right now, I'm thinking that I have very little to show for a summer of sloth.

Oh yeah.  I upgraded the glasses.

Hmm.  OK, I also upgraded the hairdo.  And it looks like I got a good start on the furrowed brow look, too.

 

But my downfall has been this:

Captioning photos.  I could do this all day long.  And then I giggle at how clever I am, and it's no WONDER there are huge dust bunnies on the stairs, and Skip doesn't know where his phone charger is.

But that's ok.  I poke fun at him, too.

 

Next week is Horse Camp for Kelly, and I foresee a lengthy time of captioning horse-faced photos.

Sloth, it is the best of the seven deadly sins.

Doctor, My Eyes.

So, a few weeks back, I went in for my once-every-whenever-I-remember eye exams.  I think this is the third time since Nate was born.  So I'm almost once every two years.  Almost as good as my "yearly" physical.

 

Anyways, turns out that my eyes really ARE getting a little worse.  And my use-them-when-I-remember reading glasses that I got back when Nate was a baby aren't doing the best job in keeping me seeing thing sharply.

As I was chatting with the doctor (a wonderfully personable young man that I want desperately to be my friend, now) he said "You know, August is Kid Vision Month here.  How are your kids' eyes?"

Whoops.  You mean I'm supposed to be taking kids to the EYE doctor, too?  I can barely get them signed up for Well Kid visits every year or so.  But I was at the receptionist's desk, and she was very helpful, and the next thing I knew, I was being a pro-active parent, and making sure my kids all saw with their best eyes.

Their appointments were today.

I think Skip found all the apparatus quite fascinating.  Towards the end of the visit, the doctor said "If your Science Fair project ends up being vision-related, come see me, and I'll help you with it."

Boo YEAH!

And it was fun being on the spectator side of the vision exams, watching him turn dials, and flip lenses in and out and watch what it did to the kids.

They also do this laser retina-mapping thing that's WAY cool.  So we all got to see the insides of the kids' eyes.  Everyone is VERY healthy.  A good thing.

The upshot of things?

All the kids are farsighted.  But nominally so.  The sort of thing that most all kids are born with, that gives them spectacular distance vision.

But of the three kids, Kelly is the MOST far-sighted. 

And so...

Good golly, Miss Molly, you'd thought it was Christmas all over again when the doctor said "I do think that Kelly should get glasses"  The biggest grin spread across her face.  My goodness, you'd think getting glasses was a fashion statement, or something.

Of course, it helps that her best friend has glasses, and Kelly thinks she's just the Coolest of the Cool Beans.

 

So off we went to the doctor's in-house optometrist.

And she'll be a glasses-wearing fashion maven in a week and a half.  Just in time for the first day of Fourth Grade.

(apologies for the craptacular camera-phone shots)

Letting the dust settle.

So, I bid adieu to our Marathon Team this morning at 645, and am now in the process of catching up on the laundry (and obsessively checking my FaceBook to see if any of my Scramble Games are in "my turn" mode.)

 

I kind of feel like I need to clarify things on the whole shaving-in-the-nude thing.

Firstly, Kevin didn't have any idea that I was in the hallway.  It was nearly a half hour after the house had been stilled for the night.    Jordie had gotten me up, and we'd been downstairs.  It was he who had knocked on Kevin's door, and in all likelihood, Kevin probably imagined it was just a 'whisper through the door' sort of comment.  Also, the guys had been in and out of the one bathroom, and I'm sure that Kevin was just keeping the bathroom clear, seeing as he had an electric razor, and could just as easily shave over Kelly's trash can, as over the bathroom sink.  Oh, and one last thing - it was STINKIN' hot on Saturday night.  And the bedrooms are upstairs, and they just hold in the sweltering heat, and when the marathon team comes up to stay with us, they travel VERY light (one backpack each), and their night-clothes are these heavy fleece track-suits, because it's usually FRIGID where we live at night, even in July, because of the fog that rolls in around 8pm.  So really, Kevin's choices for sleepwear were the oven-suit, or the birthday-suit.

Oh, and as a by-the-way.  After the guys left this morning, I started laundry, and was getting to the mess in the kitchen, when there was a knock at the door.  It was Jordie.  Whoops.  They'd forgotten to give me back my camera. 

 

---

 

The great thing about having guests like this, though, is the sense of affirmation that they give me as a hostess.

I make the most basic food for them, and it's like they'd NEVER had such exquisite stuff before.

I give them a couch-cushion in a pillowcase, and a blanket, and it's like I'd just opened the door of the penthouse suite at the RItz to them.

We sit down to eat around a crowded table that I've forgotten to put even the basic condiments on, and their swirl of conversation always comes back to what a wonderful family we have, and what a blessing we are, and I just want to pump my fist in the air and say "We rock!" instead of "thanks for being here".

But now, today, I have a 'letting the dust settle' day stretched out ahead of me.  There's laundry running, and Skip and Nate have just staggered downstairs, and are playing a bit on the Xbox.  Kelly's still sawing logs. 

Once I've eaten, and gotten a few more loads run through the washer, I'll be heading off to the thrift store to drop of nearly a full van of 'stuff we don't need any more', as part of my "Turning Our Room Into A Zen Sanctuary" goal for the week.  It was my goal last week, too, but I kind of stalled.  Er, and I think it was my goal the week before last, too.  Whoopsie.  Let's draw this goal to a close, shall we?

 

---

 

Strange stories that are true:

Last summer, we'd just come back from our Quebec/Maritimes vacation to discover that my friend and neighbour, Renee (and her family), had vanished from our street, leaving the only home they'd ever really known after some wierdness with her father/landlord.  As it happened, the city that they moved to was the same city that the Marathon Team was using as a home base last summer, so when the team was staying with us, I asked Kevin if he'd consider taking "housewarming" flowers to her at her new address.  He was happy to do it for me, as he and the team had just spent a wonderful weekend with us, at our table, and under our roof, and he was more than happy to do something a little out of his way as a 'thankyou'.  So the next week he had stopped by her new house, brought her flowers from me (I gave him cash, and suggested a bouquet from the local Safeway florist department), and gave her suggestions for churches in the area, as he was quite familiar with the place.

Fast forward to this last week.

I'm driving home from Kung Fu with Kelly when I notice that my neighbour's garage door is open, and she's just getting out of her car.

"Kelly!  Quick!  Get the flowers, we're going to meet the new neighbour!" (I hadn't told Kelly that Renee and her family were back in town).

And so, with tears and hugs, we're welcoming them BACK home in the  middle of the street.

Her first words:  "Oh, Kem, you have NO idea what a blessing it was last summer when you sent that man over with flowers.  He couldn't have come at a better time.  The flowers were such a joy, and his church recommendation was Bang On.  We ended up going there all year, and it was a perfect fit for us.  I want to get your friend's address, so I can write to him, and tell him how he really touched our lives this last year."

My response:  "Oh, well why don't you tell him in person, seeing as he's going to be staying at our place THIS WEEKEND"

Yup.  The Marathon Team showed up the very next day.

Renee could NOT believe it.

And so it was that on Saturday evening, just after supper, she showed up at our place, and practically squished the air out of Kevin in a big Thank You Hug.

And once again, I was so impressed with his grace and his wisdom, as we discovered what had transpired since she and her family had been away.  It was not a pretty tale.  But she told it to Kevin (a man she had only met once) and I, and we laughed and cried, and hugged, and Kevin said some of the most touching things that really impressed me, and really helped Renee.  The man gives such wise counsel.

It is not my story to tell.  Suffice it to say that I am so glad that she is back, and she is so glad that we live on the same street.  And there is much work to do, and much healing that I am ready to be used in.

 

---

Hey.  Are these things illegal here?

I bought a bunch up in Canada, but I would hate to get busted for having the kids play with them out in the street tonight.

 

---

Ok, I think enough dust has settled.  It's time to put the Working Clothes on, and get busy around here.  That laundry isn't going to wash itself.

We know how to put the AWK in awkward

So right now, we've got a team of guys staying in our house. Four guys who are going to be running the San Francisco Marathon tomorrow morning.

They're getting up at 4am.

I will not be getting up at 4am.

But because they're crashing early, I've been relegated to the master bedroom, with the laptop actually inhabiting my lap. Ken is coming down with something, and has already fallen asleep. His throat is all scratchy, and his head hurts when he moves his eyes instead of his whole head to look at something.

There was just a knocking at the door. And a quiet "um, Kem..." from the hallway.

One of the marathoners. He'd just realized that none of them had brought a camera along, and was wondering if we had a spare digital camera they could borrow.

Now, ordinarily, this would be a no-brainer. Ken's got our old one (the behemoth that we thought was SO SMALL when we bought it years ago) in his office somewhere. And my old digital camera (the one I had before Ken bought me my magnificent midget Canon last year) now belongs to Kelly, and can often be found on the kitchen counter. So I said "let me get you my daughter's camera. It takes 1-meg photos and is a great camera, and quite tiny. I'm pretty sure it's on the kitchen counter.

So Jordie and I head downstairs (in the dark) to look on the kitchen counter. But Jason is already asleep in the family room, so I just open the oven, and take a look around in the semi-darkness. But Kelly's camera is nowhere to be found. Oh nuts. Did she take it with her to her sleepover? Oh, there's one more place it could be. In an ORGANIZED HOUSE, Kelly's camera would be in Kelly's room, so let's take a chance.

Well, Kevin was staying in Kelly's room, and there was still a sliver of light under the door. Kevin is the senior member of the team, probably a few years older than Ken and I. His children are grown ups. He's like an elder statesman. Very mature. Very wise. He's stayed with us as part of the marathon team for the last 4 years, and we really enjoy our time with him. I tell Jordie that Kelly's camera may be on her desk, so he knocks quietly on Kevin's door (which is slightly ajar), and when Kevin answers with a quiet 'yes?', Jordie pushes the door open.

And there is Kevin, standing in the middle of Kelly's room.

Shaving.

In the nude.

ACK!

There was this moment of slow-motion terror, where everyone turns away with the speed of a viper striking.

And then we started laughing.

It was that "I'm so embarrassed that this happened" laugh, coupled with "The kids are sleeping, and we don't DARE wake them up" laugh, coupled with the "it's late, and how will we every explain this laugh", coupled with the "this is REALLY not all that funny, so it must be even MORE funny" laugh, coupled with the "I can't look you in the eye" laugh as we'd catch each others' eyes out in the hallway.

And the piece de resistance?

Kelly's camera was NOT there. I'm beginning to think that she may have taken it on her sleepover after all.

So I grabbed my own beloved camera, and wiped the memory card, and wrote up a little bit of "how to use it to its best advantage". I think it's the least I can do, after catching Kevin in such an awkward moment.

I left that note, with the camera, on the bathroom counter. There's no WAY I'm going by the mens' bedroom doors any more tonight.

I've had enough surprises.

I'm no sidekick!

I had Nate and Kelly in the car with me last night coming home from a supper at church. Nate was tired, and slumped over in his seat. Kelly, being the Van Policeman, took it upon herself to try to get Nate to sit upright... "so the seatbelt can do its job". Alas, she was a bit vigorous in her pushing of Nate, to the point that his arm got a bit jammed in the armrest, and he started wailing.

Nate: Ow ow ow ow ow ow... waaaah.... (other sounds that were toddler-esque, rather than the sounds I like to hear from my 6-year old). Kelly... you are bad and mean... ow ow ow ow

Kelly: I'm sorry, Nate. I was just trying to help you sit up straight SO THE SEATBELT CAN DO ITS JOB.

Nate: Well, you hurt my arm. It could be broken. ow ow ow ow.

Kelly: Nate, if you were sitting up straight, you wouldn't be hurt.

Me: Yup, Nate. I'm gonna have to go with Kelly on this one. You know that you can get hurt if the seatbelt can't do its job.

Nate; But Kelly, I AM NOT A SIDEKICK.

Me: ????

Kelly: *silence* *sounds of crickets*

Me: What do you mean, Nate?

Nate: (again, for emphasis) I... Am... Not... A... SIDEKICK.

Kelly: Sit up straight so the seatbelt can do its job, Nate.

Me: I still don't know what you mean, Nate.

Nate; *eye roll* I mean... that I don't know everything. And I don't KNOW that something bad is going to happen, because I don't know things before they happen.

Me: Oh... so you're telling me that you're not PSYCHIC?

Nate: Yeah. I'm not a sidekick.

Kelly: Nate! That's NOT the same. A sidekick is someone that stands beside you and fights the bad guys.

Nate; Well, I'm not psychic either, then. Hmph.

At this rate, I'm gonna need a bigger tank.

OK, We'll call the Triops "Blinky". There's Big Blinky and Middle Blinky and hiding in the back somewhere is "I've not yet been eaten by my cannibalistic siblings"-Blinky. He's not turned brown yet.

I had to go in and change out some of the water today. It's getting murky. Almost overnight.

But good golly do those things grow fast. The literature isn't kidding. What was it, last week I had to use a magnifying glass to see the dozen or so little white blips twitching across the pond?

Today?

(oh, I will hide the photo, just in case you are Triops-Squeamish. But really, it's a pet in a tank. And it can't get out. And it can't bite you. So suck it up, ok?)

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There. Enough to flip past. And page-down if you don't even want to see this much.

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This is Big Blinky. He's in about an inch and a half of water. The magenta monstrosity is their 'castle'. I guess even Triops like to play.

I would post a photo of Middle Blinky, but really, he looks just like a 3/4-sized version of Big Blinky. And forget about Wee Blinky. He's like a ghost in the machine. And they're ridiculously hard to take photos of. Their little legs under their bodies are constantly rolling along, and they do loop-de-loops without hardly taking a break. I guess they're in full-on Grow Bigger Mode.

While I was cleaning out the major detritus of the tank, I realized that much of what I was pulling was bits of shed Triops skin.

Me: Look, Nate. The Triops are shedding their skins so they can get bigger. Those little see-through bits that I'm pulling are Triops Shells.

Nate: Mom... (eye roll). They're called "Exo-skeletons".

Ouch.

---

We've got a team of folks coming up tomorrow to run the SF Marathon on Sunday.

My house looks like a bomb went off in it.

No. Really. There's still unpacked debris everywhere. And I'm in the middle of a re-model of our room (that would be the room that, for the last 5 years, anything and everything that didn't have a 'home' got put.). And tomorrow is the Company Picnic, so I'm not gonna be cleaning tomorrow. So I should be cleaning right now.

But I've just re-connected with an old friend on FaceBook, and I'm gonna go over to her house right now and knit with her, and visit with her new baby, that was born in NOVEMBER and I still haven't met. Kelly will join me, and she will embroider while Lisa and I knit.

Yeah. that's gonna help clean my house.

But, on the plus side of things, I've found a TON of yarn that I forgot that I'd bought. My stash grew exponentially and I didn't even notice (or have to pay anything... this year... for it)

I've also managed to toss out a bunch of stuff that I've been saving since SKIP WAS IN KINDERGARTEN. yes, that's been a big pile of the stuff in our bedroom.

So zen-like, our bedroom with the kid-debris littering it.

---

Overheard in the Big Bedroom Purge of '08.

"I *KNEW* I had a black cardigan... somewhere! And now I know where it's been."

"Whoops. I guess that gift certificate won't get used" (referring to a card I found thanking me for working in a bookstore, now defunct these last 6 years, containing a gift certificate for a restaurant that closed 2 years ago)

"hey! I bought these?" (referring to two knitting books that I found in a stash of old school papers from, probably, 3 years ago)

"Won't be needing these!" (referring to a micro-box of sample-diapers that I found in a box of 'gotta hide this, circa 2003')

"ooh! A Casio Boss. This pre-dates even the Palm Pilots"

And who knows what ELSE I'll be saying today, when I go back into the fray with a vengeance.

But now it's time to flip the laundry, and head out to my knitting date.

They're Aliiiiiiiiiiive!

Skip's friend Cole is over for a sleepover. Even though they were up really late and PROMISED to sleep in, they were up early, loitering around the PS2, as if maybe by their sheer proximity, they might become a part of the electronic game before breakfast.

Hah. As if!

So now they've had breakfast, and they've been distracted by Nate's gigantic Skyrail Suspension building toy thingy that Ken brought home from work.Alas , Bossy Cole wasn't even letting Nate barely touch his own toy, so Ken had to do a little gentle intervening (because if I got in there, I would've been knocking heads), and now Nate is fully invested.

Ahem. I just sent the big boys upstairs to the 2 showers. They were looking a little greasy. Skip's hair was showing NO signs that he'd actually used shampoo yesterday, and Cole is in that phase of life where he could throw off little droplets of oil just by turning his head quickly.

Of course, I don't want them using ALL the hot water, so I've turned on the dishwasher AND the washing machine (with a load of whites), to keep things interesting in the shower stalls.

---

Nate's triops?

Good golly, I think it was the VERY NEXT DAY after he'd set up his little puddle-tank that there were these little teeny-tiny white specks zipping around in it. Even with a magnifying glass, it was hard to tell what exactly was in the water.

They're aliiiiiiive!

I wondered how long it would be before we could see anything bigger than a dozen wee white specks.

But last night? My word! There's a critter in that puddle that is as big as my little finger nail! And it's brown! And it has THREE EYES. We'll call that guy Goliath. I hope he doesn't eat his buddies. I hear that triops can be cannibalistic.

No photos yet, though.

---

Cole has a movie theater gift certificate burning a hole in his pocket, so once Skip gets out of the shower (Cole's already been in and out. He's speedy, though I'm not gonna posit as to his state of cleanliness), I'll be taking the big guys down to the theater, and the wee ones to have lunch with Daddy at New Hip Company.

I suppose that means I should get out of my jammies.

My first Swap!

OK, I have absolutely OODLES of vacation entries to write, but they all get pre-empted by this:

I signed up for a swap over at Morning Glories and Moonflowers, back in June. I've never done a swap before, but this is a blog that my cousin writes, and it's been positively AGES since we've connected. (Like, before we were married, ages! Well, except that I made her daughter a quilt when she was born, but that was way back in my crafty-and-productive phase when I only had one kid). I'm happy to be getting back into contact with her, and, through her, with her family, who reads her blog, and now reads mine, too.

Anyways, she hosted a blog-swap, and it was for 'daughters of bloggers'. So I signed Kelly up, and I was thrilled to be paired up with her daughter. So the second-cousins (or the twice-removeds, depending on if you use English or German genealogy lingo, apparently) will have a chance to get to know each other.

When we were up in Canada, Kelly and I put together a little parcel of goodies for Amanda. Some things we'd bought while we were still home in California, and some stuff that we picked up in Canada. And, since we were visiting with my Nana (also my cousin's grandmother), I got some of her hand-embroidered linens, and her hand-crocheted doilies to bulk up the package. Because it's NEVER too soon to start your Hope Chest.

Thanks, Nana. (You look pretty fly for a 94 year old chick. I hope I age as gracefully!)

Kelly's parcel arrived yesterday. She was in girly-girl heaven, as she'd (of course) forgotten that it was coming.

There was a great kid-friendly lantern, perfect for bug collecting at night.

Amanda and her mom had made Kelly a great tote bag. And inside, where you can't see, is a great animal encyclopedia. Honestly, you can NEVER have too many animal encyclopedias!

And they made her flip-flops!

And under a mountain of lovely purple tissue paper, there was a giant box of Nerds (her favourite!) and a Littlest Pet Shop baby butterfly pet.

So now Kelly is completely sold on the idea of gift swaps. I guess I'll have to keep my eyes open for the next one. Thankyou for hosting this, my best favourite cousin. This was a wonderful experience for both of us.