TGJFRT of 2012 - Seattle - Day I've lost count

Well, obviously we are home now. Or else this is the world's longest vacation. I had grand illusions of blogging on the road and memorializing our trip; however, I underestimated the amount of time I would have to blog, and also the tediousness of blogging from my beloved, but not typing and posting-friendly, iPad. And keeping up with that "Day #" thing? Also tedious. But I do want to recap, so I'll plug on so we have this for posterity's sake.

After family reunioning, we spent the next day (#13) with my parents and sister and her family. In my mind (at the risk of sounding like a Debbie Downer), I thought this might be one of the last opportunities we had to go back to Seattle with my folks, so I wanted my kids to see where Grandpa grew up, etc. So we loaded up the vehicles and hit the road...not that there was all that far to go.

My dad grew up in south Seattle. In fact, the house where he spent late elementary through high school is also the house he and mom moved into right after Grandpa Peretti (his dad) died and right before I was born. (Didja get all that?) We saw the little church where mom and dad met - now a Spanish-speaking AG church. Mom had moved to Seattle after high school and was at church one Sunday night. Fun Bob and Geneva fact: Dad arranged for her ride to leave her so he could take her home. Smooth, dad. The house where they lived when they got married is right next door.

From there, it was to the little house where they moved when I was a baby and where my sister was born, also very near Boeing Field where dad worked. (Along with much of Seattle.) (As dad says, "When Boeing catches a cold, Seattle sneezes.") They weren't there for all that long since dad was transferred to Houston when I was two. And the rest....well, history and all that. One thing that struck me was that no matter where they were, they found a church and got plugged in. I'm not so naive as to think that, even then, it was just the culture to do so, but it was certainly their family culture, and became ours. Thank God.

That afternoon, we took the boys on a ferry ride to Bainbridge Island. The heat wave, thankfully, had dissipated, and they were having more typical weather. It was actually very cool on the ferry, as well as cloudy. The Bainbridge Ferry was one of the shorter rides, which was one of the reasons we chose it, and Bainbridge is a quaint little town. We had a pizza picnic, and some ice cream.

That night we met the rest of the family at Ivar's Salmon House for dinner. Ivar's is one of those places that is in my Seattle memories...not because they always went there...since, as dad says, they didn't have two nickels to rub together back then...but we did go on some of our return trips when we were adults. So, to Ivar's we went. It also happened to be mom and dad's anniversary dinner. I know they were delighted to spend it out with 12 other people...eight of whom were age 14 and under.... ;)

Here's where I have to interject that, in my opinion, Seattle is an awful city to drive in. Not necessarily because of traffic...that wasn't too bad...but the roads are hilly, and they don't always go straight, and you exit and then the road divides and they have concrete dividers so it's impossible to get over so you have to find a way to circle around and more hills and curves and blah, blah, blah..... Anyway, it's not straightforward and simple like Houston, which is, well, for one thing, flat, and laid out like a wheel with spokes. Orderly and all that.

So, back to Seattle. On Wednesday morning, Jack got up and headed down to a Russian bakery we found across from Pike's Place market for some pastries, then, because I am a wonderful wife and mother, rather than go to H&M or any of the other great downtown Seattle shopping venues, we went to the Museum of Flight at Boeing Field.  Actually, I didn't mind it (too much); it's really well-done and interesting, and one can quite easily spend the whole day there.  My history-buff husband and oldest son especially enjoyed the huge WWI & II wing.  (This was the point where I took the 7yo for a McDonald's run.  His attention span just isn't that long....)

That night we met my sweet friend, Mary; her husband, Brian; and their dog, Timber at Green Lake Park in Seattle for a dinner picnic.  Mary and I were roomates here in Houston years ago, and she's the kind of friend you pick right up with like you'd never been apart.  I really like her hubs too; he's a nice guy.

So, that was Seattle.  Tomorrow, on the road again.

TGJFRT of 2012 - Days 10, 11 & 12 - The Family Reunions

We spent Saturday and Sunday visiting with the Neals - my mom's side of the family - and kicked off the weekend with our traditional Neal family breakfast of chocolate gravy and biscuits. Hey...if you haven't tried it, don't knock it.... It was great to see so many family - all of my mom's sisters and one lone brother, who also happened to be the one who married Jack and me, and their spouses. There was, of course, a mountain of food. Ironically, the Seattle area was experiencing record heat, and Saturday and Sunday were the hottest days in two years. Oh, joy. Our apologies for bringing the heat with us. I was so looking forward to cooler weather. So lots of sitting in the shade and catching up ensued. A couple moments that stand out in my mind: Listening to my Uncle Dwayne talk and realizing he sounded just how I remember my Grandpa Neal sounding. Sitting around on Sunday morning with my Aunts and Uncles singing old hymns. My goodness, they know some of the old camp meeting songs...some I'd never heard of. We relocated hotels (again) on Sunday and moved downtown. Four adults and eight children traipsed around the streets of downtown Seattle in search of dinner, and naturally ended up right where we started, at the pub smack dab in front of our hotel. On Monday morning, Jack, the boys and I walked down to Pike's Place Market. What a groovy place. My Grandma Peretti used to go shopping down there and my dad has memories of the meat market guy giving him free hot dogs...which after the first few times he no longer cared for, so Grandma let him ditch them. We also found a great Russian bakery across the street from the market for breakfast. The original Starbucks is down there too, but we bypassed that. We also went to see the Peretti side of the family on Monday. Again, more catching up and getting reacquainted with cousins I never had the chance to know, and of course, seeing the aunts and uncles. One of my aunts, baptized as a young teen by Aimee Semple McPherson, is a licensed minister, still studies the Word and teaches weekly. Uncle Gene displayed his shoe repair handiwork. The consensus is that is not the field for him. I so enjoyed seeing them all - Aunt Eva, Uncle Gene & Simone, Aunt Barbara, Uncle Harvey & Aunt Karen, Uncle Roland & Aunt Iola, Uncle Dave & Paula. I am deeply grateful for the faith tradition that has been handed down on both sides of my family. Psalm 61:5b,"You have given me the heritage of those who fear your name."

TGJFRT of 2012 - Day 9

Friday was the long-awaited river rafting trip.  Months ago dad suggested this; I guess it was on his bucket list. Because of our kids (and my complete lack of adrenaline-junkieness), we opted for the tamer family float option - consisting of Class I and II rapids - as opposed to the whitewater - Class III, IV and V - rapids.  Also, as the likelihood of ending up in the water is less, the family trip did not necessitate wearing neoprene. Imagine my disappointment.

We met in Gold Bar, where we then (after signing the requisite insurance waivers and hearing the first of at least two safety speeches) were trucked to the drop site. Our group consisted of our two guides, mine and part of my sister's brood, for a grand total of 6 adults and 6 kids in two large rafts.

But before launching we heard safety speech number two, which consisted of all the ways we could possibly drown in the river. "Do not swim in shallow water; your foot can get trapped in a rock and the current will push you over and you will drown!" "If you encounter a strainer [a place where a tree or other object protrudes out into the water] you must hoist yourself onto the top of the strainer as it pushes the water through or you will drown!" "If we get stuck on an object, and your guide yells 'high side', everyone must move to the front of the boat in order to dislodge from said object!"

Well, I can tell you, at this point I was about ready to call it a day.  But when we very quickly made it to the first set of rapids, and then proceeded to get lodged on the rocks and had to "high side"', I was contemplating how I was going to get the heck off of that river.  Did I mention I'm not an adrenaline junkie?  I may or may not have glared at Jack with clenched teeth and declared I was never, not ever, doing this again.

But I kept a white-knuckled grip on my paddle (did I mention we had to row?) and kept going...and after I got used to it, it wasn't so bad....  The boys loved it.  On this particular stretch of the Skykomish, where the water is deep enough (you know, so your feet don't get trapped in the rocks and the current doesn't sweep you over and you DROWN), the boys could jump in and swim.  We're talking 20-30 feet deep in some spots.  Oh, and just two days prior this water had been snow and ice up in the mountains, so it was coooold.  Like 45 degrees, take your breath away cold.  But most of the boys got in anyway...at least until they were numb...which didn't take long.

We had packed a lunch, so stopped along the river to picnic. But not for a drink.  At least not me.  Cause you know what they don't have along the river?  Bathrooms.  If you're a boy, or anyone prepared to get in the 45 degree water, you could remedy the situation, but, alas, for me, it was not to be.

For about the last half of the trip, the current slowed down, and we were met with a pretty decent breeze blowing against us, so we ended up rowing quite a bit. Whew.

It really was a beautiful trip down the river - the water was clear, the sky blue; it was a perfect weather day.  And, now that I've done it once, I guess I'd do it again.

But first, I need to go to the bathroom.

TGJFRT of 2012 - Day 8

On Thursday morning (day 8) we left Kennewick, WA, driving west through Yakima and lots of farm country, heading for the mountain. Mt. Rainer, that is. It rises to over 14,000 feet and its snow-covered peak can be seen from miles around. Produce stands line the roads in that neck of the woods (east of the Cascades); we snagged some delicious peaches and organic cherries...only $2.99/lb!  My mom grew up on a farm northwest of Mt. Ranier.  What a view. 

It was a long drive, but scenic, crossing through Wenatchee National Forest, with pull-outs where we could see Clear Creek Falls and another with a great view of Ranier. Once we actually drove into Mt. Ranier National Park, the view wasn't as good, seeing that we were actually driving up onto the mountain itself.  Along the southern portion of the park, Paradise is the highest point accessible by car; at that level (about 5,000 feet) the wild flowers bloom profusely.  We also found a patch of snow - well, ice mostly - and my Texans had a ball slipping and sliding around.

There was also some road construction going on throughout the park...the kind where the road is completely shut down for chunks of time and you just stop your car and get out and enjoy the view until they let you through again. Not too bad...unless you have to go to the bathroom, of course....

It took the better part of the day on the road, once we got through the park and then winding our way up through the country - actually not too far from where my mom grew up - and to the northern suburbs of Seattle where we were meeting one of my sisters and her family.

Tomorrow, the river. (Cue the music from Deliverance.)

TGJFRTO of 2012 - Day 7

XYZPDQ.  Okay, not that kind of zipper. Jack found a zip line company in Horseshoe Bend, about 40 minutes north of Boise, so in true spontaneous vacation style, he and the two big boys decided to go zip lining.  They had an absolute blast, and even captured it all on video by renting one of those helmets with a camera mounted on top. Since littlest brother didn't meet the weight requirements (and isn't all that wild about heights anyway), I found an indoor trampoline park that was just his speed.  He loved it.


Needless to say, all our morning adventures put us on the road later in the day, but we pushed on through Oregon, especially grateful for the modern transportation and conveniences of today as we sped over the Oregon trail travelled by long ago settlers. We stopped for dinner at an old west steakhouse in Pendleton, OR (home of the Pendleton woolen mills) thar pleasantly surprised us, and then drove another hour into Washington. Yay!


Today we head to Seattle via Mount Ranier National Park. Now to pack up and get on the road. Again. 

TGJFRTO of 2012 - Days 5 and 6

Boy, the days are beginning to run together into one giant vacation blur, and we don't even have a full week under our belt yet....


First thing Monday morning we headed to Arches National Park, just outside of Moab. This was also when a few days on the road caught up with me and vacation expectations clashed with reality. I'm fine now....and all family members are still accounted for.


Arches is amazing. (I'm using that word frequently on this trip....I may need to reference a thesaurus.) It's desert, although when I think of desert I tend to think of flat and sandy, and this is anything but. We drove to the farthest point of the park, climbing and winding most of the way; that probably took 45 minutes. We had a picnic, then set off on one of the easier hikes to Landscape Arch. (Oh, yes...I'm smart enough to avoid any trail that has the word "primitive" in it, thank you very much.) On our way down, we did another "easy" hike to Delicate Arch. I've learned that in park lingo, "easy" is relative. In one place it means longer and flatter (about an hour for the one we did, some inclines, but not too terrible), in another, shorter but significantly steeper (think stair-master). Hiker beware. This park is also home to Balancing Rock, which is just what it sounds like. Oh, and it's plenty hot up there out in the blazing sun. Water consumption is highly recommended and encouraged.


We spent the rest of the day driving along curving mountain roads, where train tracks tunneled through mountains, and rivers traced the road with us...destination Salt Lake City. One eagle-eyed passenger spotted a combined KFC/A&W, necessitating a snack stop. (Apparently someone (not me) hadn't had their fill of KFC.) (Original, please.) Of course, the boys thought A&W Root Beer floats were an awesome road trip treat.


We stayed the night in downtown Salt Lake City. On the way out Tuesday morning we drove by Temple Square for a peek...it's really quite beautiful...but didn't stop for the grand tour. (Gee, there's a shocker.) (But still, Go Romney.)


From there it was out to Antelope Island State Park to view the great salt lake, the largest lake West of the Mississippi, and the second saltiest lake in the world. (I think that's right, but don't hold me to it...you can google it if you're interested.)


And then it was on to Idaho. One of the things we've seen a lot on the roads up here are tandem trucks....semis pulling multiple trailers behind them. I don't recall seeing that at home; S says they're not legal in Texas. Don't know....but man, they sure do haul along those long stretches of open road in Northern Utah and Southern Idaho. Also, according to the road signs, those stretches are prone to high winds, severe rain and blinding dust storms (not necessarily at the same time, and which one should not drive into) (really...ya think?), and, last, but not least, wildfires. How's that for pleasant driving conditions?


We stopped in Twin Falls, ID along the Snake River, where I was ever so grateful for the cyclone fence running along the edge of the scenic view, which was a sheer rock canyon, then again at Shoshone Falls. Beautiful. And referred to as the Niagara Falls of the west, should you ever be faced with that question in Trivial Pursuit. On our drive there, we drove through lots of farm land, and as we got closer, drove by one house with apricot trees in front, ladders out and a sign that said "free apricots". Well, of course we stopped. I mean, free....why not? Not that we've ever eaten apricots right off the tree but there's a first time for everything.


Final stop Tuesday...Boise, ID. Stay tuned for more vacation adventures....

TGJFRTO of 2012 - Day 4

Sunday.  After breakfast at the hotel, and a little family church service (with a rather restless congregation), we got on the road.  My goal of minimal technology so we could watch all the lovely scenery has only been partly realized, since I guess even after a while mountains get a little boring.

Of course, we did the requisite family photos (sans me, of course, since I was the photographer) by the "Welcome to **enter name of state here**" signs. And stumbled across a town having a fair so stopped to play at the playground and let the boys do the "bubble" ride, which consists of crawling into giant clear plastic bubbles, which are then inflated, sealed, and rolled into a pool of water where the inhabitant spins, attempts to walk, but mostly flops like a giant human hamster. Good times.

We ate lunch at KFC.  Not that that's particularly exciting, but I happened to receive a text from a friend with a picture with of their KFC, assuming it was her Sunday lunch, and it prompted cravings among some of the passengers in our vehicle. (And maybe the driver too.) Turns out the text was from her trip to Kenya and was weeks old.  Don't know what that has to do with anything, but I thought it was funny.  And I don't need to eat there again anytime soon. 

The drive through Colorado was beautiful and Utah has some amazing rock formations. I totally get why folks in this part of the country are so into all their outdoor activities.  In fact, our waiter tonight (Blue Pig Barbecue, in case you're interested) told us Moab is the mountain biking capital of the world. Good to know. Still not doing it. 

Good night. 

TGJFRTO of 2012 - Day 3

Saturday morning we left El Paso headed for Albuquerque.  At one point traffic was diverted off the freeway by the Border Patrol and an officer with a large German Shepherd circled the car; fortunately for us, it was not trained to sniff out dirty camp laundry.  And the Border Agent at the guardhouse took our word for it that we are all American citizens.  Go figure.  (Could it have been our glow-in-the-dark complexions or the fact that we travel like the Clampetts, but without the rocking chair?)

We stopped in Truth or Consequences for gas, bathroom, and lunch. I don't know why it's called that...that would necessitate doing a google search.  We scored with customer appreciation day at Sonic and fed the five of us for $14. (Yeah, I know it's not organic, grass-fed, or sprouted, but I find that when we're on the road I forgo some of my high-falutin food philosophies.)

After checking in, we headed to the Sandia Peak aerial tram and took a 15 minute ride from the base (6559 ft) to the peak (10358 ft). If you don't like heights , do not get on this tram. Surrounded by windows, hanging from a couple of steel cables, with the occasional sway back-and-forth from the wind, looking down at the boulders and sheer drops below....  But the view from the top is amazing. And the temp 20 degrees cooler. Which we Texans appreciated. We hiked around up there for a while (avoiding the edge like the plague, cause nothing will put a damper on a vacation like someone plummeting down a mountain),  checked out the closed-for-the-season chair lifts on the back side of the mountain, and then trammed back down. Which was not as knot-in-the-stomach-inducing as the ride up...I assume because we weren't smack in the front of the tram car.

Next we stopped at Trader Joe's to pick up some stuff for dinner.  (And some stuff not for dinner.)  (Chocolate-covered almonds and dark chocolate mint creams, anyone?)

Historic Route 66 also winds through a stretch of Albuquerque, and is lit up with neon lights, but unfortunately for us, they were either out of service or not on yet when we drove it at dusk. Also, it's a rather eclectic-artsy-sketchy part of town with lots of vintage (and some just plain old) style motels, restaurants and other businesses (slightly reminiscent of the Montrose area at home) so not really conducive to stopping with three boys for photo ops.

And we capped off the night by doing laundry.  Finally.  And our noses rejoiced.

Tomorrow, Moab, UT. 

TGJFRT of 2012 - Day 2

M & I woke up to rain in Fort Davis. Which made me wish I'd hit up the Historical Site the day before, but whatevs...we headed there after breakfast anyway. Fort Davis was an army post on the old San Antonio-El Paso Road during the 1800s. The army barracks have been restored and many of the old buildings, or in some cases the foundations, still remain. It also happened to be Junior Ranger day so M strung warrior beads and scored a Junior Ranger patch. From there we headed to Buffalo Trails Scout Ranch to pick up J and the boys. BTSR is back up the highway the way we'd come about 25 miles, then another 12 miles on a winding ranch road heading into the mountains. Oh, and did I mention the loose livestock? And the low spots where water may be running over the road from the week's rains? Cause, yeah, they have flash floods out there when it rains a lot. The first low spot was only about 300 yards off the highway, with water over the road. After reversing all the way back to the highway and weighing my options, which were few, I went back, got out, looked it over, and hoping the flood gauge by the side of the road was accurate, decided to try it...praying all the while. Oh, and absolutely no cell phone connection either, so no way to call if something happened. But, it was fine...as were the four or five other low spots. Needless to say, since it was still drizzling and looked like more rain was expected when we arrived, we did not stay for the scenic tour. We arrived in El Paso that afternoon, got settled into the hotel, and set out in search of the laundry room, because, hello, stinky camp clothes. Sadly, none was to be found, so the "no shoe removal" rules have been implemented until stink remediation has occurred. Also, I forgot a toothbrush or two at home (well, I forgot one; an unnamed scout forgot the other) but what's a road trip without a stop at the Walmarts, right? J's nephew, wife and kids also live in El Paso (at least for one more week...how's that for good timing?) so we met them for dinner at - what else? - a Mexican food restaurant. Isn't that what you eat in El Paso? I've got some tired guys on my hands, so bedtime will be much welcomed tonight. Tomorrow, on to Albuquerque.

The Great Jones Family Trip of 2012 - Day One

Seven-year-old M and I hit the road Thursday morning to begin our portion of The Great Jones Family Road Trip of 2012. Two almost miraculous things occurred in the launching of this journey, one of which is that I left with my house clean upon departure. It's always my goal to arrive home to order and cleanliness after a vacation; it just so rarely happens. As I am not always known for my early rising habits, the other borderline miraculous event was that I actually managed to get up at 5:00 am and pull out of the driveway at 6:07. I wanted to leave plenty of time for stops on our long drive to West Texas to pick up DH and the two big brothers who had left the Saturday before for a week of Boy Scout camp. I was a little nervous about the gas situation - it goes fast in a gas-guzzling SUV and there's not a lot to choose from when you're Deep in the Heart of Nowhere - so to be safe, we stopped to fuel up just about every time the gas gauge got below a half a tank. (And we may or may not have gotten a snack or two while we were at it.) After nine hours hauling west on I-10 (and you gotta love the 80 MPH speed limit out there), we finally exited at Balmoreah and stopped at the state park to check out the spring and pool there. Scuba divers in deep west Texas...who'd a thought? From there it was south to Fort Davis, which I though was a cute little town. Kind of in the middle of stinking nowhere, like everything else, but quaint. We got settled in our room (up narrow wooden stairs, no elevator) and ate dinner at the Fort Davis Drugstore. I was a little concerned about leaving some of our luggage in the car, but when I asked a woman if it would be safe, she said she didn't lock her car or her house. (And guess who's not from a big city?) Next on the agenda - is it just me or has this day been forever long? - we headed up into the Davis Mountains to a Star Party at the McDonald Observatory, where we were meeting up with the scouts. To say that M was happy to see J and the boys is an understatement. The night was quite cloudy, but thankfully it cleared up enough to get a good look at the moon and Saturn. And, finally, a little past midnight, blessed sleep back at our hotel.... More tomorrow as the vacation adventure continues....

An Adventure of a Plumbing Nature

Yesterday afternoon, my kitchen sink clogged up.  Naturally, this occurred just as dinner preparations were commencing.  Call me old-fashioned, but I find that a sink that drains is quite helpful when preparing, cooking, and cleaning up after a meal.

Have I mentioned before that we don't really consider ourselves handy people?

What we do consider ourselves are people who can make lists for handy people.  And people who can write the necessary checks to pay said handy people.  But handy ourselves?  Not so much.

What follows is the internal thought process that took place:

"Jack's not going to be happy about this."
"He's going to think I've been stuffing vegetable peels down the disposal."
"Now we're going to have to call our handy people."
"When the handy people come, we are going to have to have them here for the whole day."
"That means I'm going to have to make a list of things for them to do all day."
"I don't want them to come tomorrow."
"I'm not ready for them to come and spend a whole day in my house."
"I wanted to go to Nordstom tomorrow and use my gift card."
"I'll have to go to Lowe's at least once, if not two or three times, to get necessary supplies for the handy people."
"I bet I'm going to get reminded about not putting vegetable peels down the disposal."
"I wonder if I can blame this on one of the kids?"

At this point I noticed that the other side of the double sink was draining.  I said to myself, "Self, that side is draining.  Hmmm, that must mean there's a clog somewhere above where those two pipes intersect."  (Or something to that effect.)

I gave myself the "you're a smart woman and you can figure this out" pep talk, and informed my eldest and partner-in-stuffing-things-down-the-disposal-crimes that we would not, in fact, be reading library books after dinner, but would instead embark on a plumbing adventure.

So when The Man arrived home from his day at the office, saw the standing water in the sink, and asked about it in a possibly-not-so-happy-tone, I responded with great optimism that The Boy and I were going to fix it after dinner.  He may or may not have been skeptical.

Boy Number Two decided he wanted in on the plumbing action, and not being one to turn down free help, I readily agreed.  We set to work.

Step One: Pull everything (except for the hefty water filter tank) out from under the sink.
Step Two:  Get emergency towels at the ready, along with an empty laundry basket to place emergency towels in.  (I don't think that's an official plumbing step, but I was just trying to cover all my bases.)
Step Three:  Turn off the water under the sink.  (That is an official step, and an important one.)

Now at this point, I was in uncharted territory.  I knew we/I would have to do some disconnecting of pipes and such, and I just hoped it wouldn't be too big a deal.  (I was having visions of having to call a real plumber at 8pm because I created a kitchen disaster.)  Well, without getting into lots of pipe jargon and plumbing speak (because I don't know any of that anyway), I began unscrewing the joints around the bottom bend/elbow piece (trap?).  (Who knew that each joint had its own little PVC screwy thing holding it together?  How convenient is that?  I didn't even need tools.)  When I took that off, no water came out, confirming that, yes indeed, Virginia, there was a clog in there.  I proceeded to unscrew the PVC section going up to the disposal, and lo and behold, carrot peels.  Lots and lots of carrot peels.

My plumber's helper and I dug out the offending peels and, with a gush into the waiting plastic bin - presto, chango - no more clog and an empty sink.  My helpers fetched the plumber's tape, I wrapped it around the threads, reattached the fittings, and, voilà, clogged fixed.  It took all of twenty minutes.

I even fixed the handles on the upstairs bathtub faucets that have been backwards for months.  The hot now properly indicates hot, and the cold - well, you know.  That took less than a minute.

I feel like a plumbing genius.

There's a reason I'm so tired today

Oh my, it's been a while since I blogged.  Undoubtedly, I've had plenty of blog-worthy thoughts, but I suppose between cooking, cleaning, the occasional attempt at homeschooling, and procrastinating on the Internet in order to keep from doing really worthwhile things, I just never got around to it.  And now it would be too much of a mental exercise to think back over the past month and come up with a recap.  So I'll just begin with where I am today.  Which is tired.

I stayed up way too late Sunday night finishing Francine River's book, A Voice In the Wind, at the recommendation of my mother-in-law (she recommended the book, not the staying up late).  It took me a few chapters to get into it.  It's set in the world surrounding ancient Rome and everyone has those long, hard to remember names, but once I got into it, it was a gripping read.  Also, fairly gory.  A depiction of a coarse culture, in some ways not unlike our own today (God have mercy on us), and yet I couldn't didn't want to stop reading.  And so I persevered to the bitter, cliff-hanging end.  And woke up on Monday morning tired, put the next one in the series on hold at the library, and thought, "I'll get a good night sleep tonight to make up for it."

Was it Benjamin Franklin that said, "Don't count your hours of sleep before they hatch?"

Because when "tonight" arrived, around 1 am, we were awakened to the delightful howls of a vomiting now-six-year-old (oh, yeah, that's one of the things we've done over the last month and a half - had one of two birthdays).  Oh, joy.  And so I spent the rest of the night dozing on the lower bunk - which, BTW, I had to make at 1:30 in the sweet middle of the night since I washed the sheets, oh, I don't know, two weeks before and hadn't put them back on yet.  Every 30 minutes or so, I was jolted awake by his "noises" (I was going to say "heaving" but feel like I'm starting to run the whole vomit story into the ground) until about 4 am, at which point he seemed to settle down for a bit, and is now, after a morning of childrens' television, asleep on the sofa with one of Jack's giant Cool Whip bowls beside him.  (I wonder if he'll still want to use that one for his raisin bran, or if we'll have to trash it?  He's pretty partial to his Cool Whip bowls.  And his raisin bran.)

So now, before the dinner prep begins (and does anyone else besides me get tired of having to feed people three times a day?), I should get something productive done.  Wouldn't that be refreshing?

Here's hoping there's a good night of sleep ahead of me tonight.  Sweet dreams.

Close Encounters...

of the police kind.

And, no, I wasn't speeding.  Or running a stop sign.  (Hey, don't judge.)

It began with an innocent attempt at grooming someone's fingernails.  "Will you please go get the clippers out of mommy's drawer by her bed?" the mommy requested.

A few minutes later, we heard a familiar beep-beep-beep.  Within minutes, if not seconds, a quick string of beeps, followed by the shrieks of an ear-piercing siren, shattered the relatively peaceful quiet of our Saturday night.  Alas, we were stumped at the source of the alarm.  To our knowledge, no one had been near the key pads.  All boys were questioned and summarily dismissed as suspects.  Our nerves still a wee bit rattled, we chalked it up to what we hoped was an electrical fluke.

Then, just as jittery nerves had settled and boys had been herded to bed, there was pounding on the front door.  Two police cars were parked at the curb.  From inside we could see the sweep of flashlight beams as the perimeter of the house was examined.  The cavalry had arrived.  Adorned in my oversized and well-worn Chicago Cubs t-shirt and striped pajama pants, my driver's license was expeditiously handed over for their examination and record keeping purposes, while Jack, in good citizen mode, stood outside smiling and thanking them for their prompt response.

It wasn't until the next morning that we realized the remote access key fob for the home alarm system had been in that drawer.  The suspected perpetrator was questioned about his notice of, and attention to, said button-bearing device.  Assuring him that we had the power to cut him a deal with the DA, he agreed to bargain and readily admitted his unknowing misconduct.

Buttons, by their very nature, beckon to be pushed. Especially by little boys. Elevators. Remote controls. Phones. Cameras. You name it, the button-containing device is irrelevant. It's a temptation difficult to withstand.

I'm hoping the recidivism rates for this type of offense are really low, 'cause I'm not sure how much grace the men in blue are willing to extend, and I look terrible in orange.

I felt the earth move...

under my feet...

Did y'all feel it?  It was the thunderous shock of me not turning on the computer ALL. DAY. LONG.  I'm sure there was lightning somewhere as well.

Yes, it was an exercise in restraint.  Self-control.  Minimizing distractions, if you will.  My family was stunned.

I make no promises for the morrow...for I know not what the morrow brings.  All I know is, for today, it was necessary to keep this magnetic techno-monster at bay.

The last week or so has been a little, well, melancholy, for me.  Lots of introspection.  (Yuck.)  Lots of self-examination.  (Yuckier.)  And loads of internal criticism - with a side of condemnation, and a little bit of dread on top.  I wish I could blame PMS....

This is my SSMT verse this go round:
But let all those rejoice who put their trust in You; let them ever shout for joy, because You defend them; let those also who love Your name be joyful in You.  For You, O LORD, will bless the righteous; with favor You will surround her as with a shield.  Psalm 5:11-12 NKJV


He defends me.  His favor is a shield, protecting me not only from the arrows of the enemy who seeks to steal, kill and destroy, but from the inner voice that can be far harsher, uglier, and more critical than it should be.  Please don't misunderstand.  I'm not excusing my mistakes.  I make plenty of them.  Regularly.  But much of the time, I am my own worst enemy.  On so many levels.  Maybe you can relate.

So when thoughts of self-condemnation rain down upon me, He puts up a shield.  To protect me from me.  Now that's some favor.

Oh, for grace to love Him more.

This is the day, this is the day...

All together now...
"that the Lord has made, that the Lord has made..."

Michael's favorite song, the oh-oh-oh song (otherwise known as "Today Is The Day" by Lincoln Brewster) cycled through the iPod earlier today, requiring him to turn it up full throttle, and then lather, rinse, repeat, oh, say three or eight times, until an older brother came downstairs to proclaim its unnecessary loudness.

To which I say with gusto,
"HA, tweener!  If it's too loud, you're too old."

(Although, in all honesty, who can blame him?  I've been known to throw a flag on the field for unnecessary loudness a time or two myself.)

Believing that all You have in store for me is good.

One of my favorite lines.  All.  My mess-ups, botches, mistakes and failures, even when I knew/know better (ouch), He'll use for my good.  Isn't that something?  I'm so grateful.

This song actually reminds me of a much older "contemporary Christian" chorus, closely titled, "This is the day".  If you were raised in church in the 70s you may have sung it.  In fact, we still sing it around here with Jack as our chief chorus leader because he's, well, chipper, like that.  And while it'll never win any acclaims for its musicality (it hearkens, after all, from one of ugliest fashion decades known to mankind), it's a good message.  Just like Lincoln's version.  Which is definitely more fun to listen to.

In my mind's eye....

he was so tall.  And handsome.  He had caught up to, if not surpassed, his father in height.  His hair was still red, although a little darker, and the boyish frame had filled out; his shoulders were broad.  The boyish softness in his features had been replaced by a more solid jaw line and the face of an adult.  A smattering of youthful freckles remained.

I had to look up at him.

"Mom, will you help me?"

And in an instant, he was 12 again.  And I was standing next to him - albeit a shorter, tween version -  helping him comb his hair.

Those glimpses into the future don't happen often for me - task-oriented by nature, schooling, household chores, the never ending to-do's - and if I am being honest, time-wasting-saving technology - occupy the moments, hours, and days, with little pause for introspection.  Even the quiet of a sleeping household is filled with mindlessness rather than just being.

But, today - in spite of the rush to get out the door - for a moment, time had flown, and I had to blink away the tears, for I had hair to comb.

For Whom He Loves He Chastens

I've been chastened.

By Jack.

Jack is very safety conscious.  I, on the other hand, am very decor conscious.  Guess which one is more important?  Imagine my chagrin when I discovered that the man does not appreciate finding smoke detectors in the upstairs drawers.  And, yes, that was plural detectors.

And why are they in drawers, you may ask?  Our onsite safety inspector is concerned for the well-being of the residents of this home, and he is of the school of thought that if one smoke detector is good, more is better.  I, however, find it challenging to decorate around said (unsightly) smoke detectors.  They aren't always up on a wall or ceiling out of the realm of my decorating empire; no, indeed, sometimes they are on a shelf.  Right where I can see them.

And who among us, when the low battery signal begins its reign of chirping terror, hasn't done the stealth creep through the house trying to pinpoint just which one is the culprit?  I'm sure you can understand my predicament.  And so, the battery gets removed.  And, sometimes, the detector (or three) gets put in a drawer.

Duly chastened, I have now promised that:

1.  I will not just remove, but will actually replace, faulty batteries from beeping smoke detectors.

2.  I will not, under any circumstances, put smoke detectors (singular or plural) in drawers.  Apparently it significantly impacts their effectiveness.

And now, I have to go the store, as I require more 9 volt batteries.

I'll leave right after I check all the other drawers.

What's It Gonna Bee? A He or a She?

And no, it is not myself I allude to.

But it is my "baby" brother and his sweet wife.

(Insert picture swiped from FB of my handsome brother and his could-practically-be-a-supermodel-if-she-weren't-so-petite wife.)



And when they got married, because they are a contemporary and fashionable couple, they thought it'd be fun to go with one of those new-fangled destination weddings.  Cool.  Trendy. Happening.  With-it, if you will.

You know, like us.

With our 3-month old.  And a 5- and 7-year old.  And a just-possibly-still-a-wee-bit-post-partum mom, who had a few weeks prior, started a brutal diet and exercise program.  (And, no, I am not exaggerating.) (Really.)  (That'll have to be another post someday.)  (I know - you can't wait.)

Of course, we went.  Because how often does your brother get married on a pristine beach with crystal clear water?  "It'll be fun," the JPSAWBPP mom said.  International glamour.  Tropical ease.  (Or so the tourism website promised.)

So we loaded up the truck and we moved to Beverly...oh wait, wrong story.  But it wasn't far off.  We were, for all intents and purposes, "The Beverly Hillbillies Go To The Bahamas."  But without the rocking chair.  I am (again) not exaggerating when I tell you that we schlepped THIRTEEN, yes, THIRTEEN duffle bags through parking lots, terminals of major airports, customs and into taxis because we are, indeed, urbane and sophisticated world travelers.

We swam with the dolphins.  We snorkled in the crystal clear water.  We dove for rocks and coral.  (And, let me be clear that by "we", I mean the man and the boys.)  The JPSAWBPP mom hung out with a precious 3-month old who needed a t-shirt that said, "My parents took me to the Bahamas and I cried the whole time."

But the wedding was beautiful.  The beaches were beautiful.  The bride was beautiful.  (And, of course, it goes without saying that the two ring bearers were adorable.)

And now...fast forward five years.

She's still beautiful.  And now she's expecting.

We had a little family "reveal" party yesterday.  I made my first, and possibly last, pinata.

And there were diaper cupcakes, but I forgot to take pictures.  They were cute though.  I got the idea here, if you get the urge to make some.  I used newborn size, but if I were doing them again I'd use size 1.

So, what's it gonna bee?  A he or a she?

Well.......

It's a girl!

Wild Thing, You Make My Heart Sing or A Tale In Which Singles Become Acquainted

And speaking of things that make my heart sing, or at least hum, I did, in fact, get my kitchen cleaned the other night.  And last night too.  Woohoo...apparently I'm on a two-night roll.  I should take this hot streak to Vegas, baby.

Today I feel compelled to tell you about a young single woman whose father, Bob, was led to set her up with a guy named - yes, you guessed it - Bob.

Now father Bob could not be faulted for wanting to come to the assistance of this young woman, his eldest favorite daughter.  While not quite "long in the tooth", she was definitely of a marrying age.  As opposed to the "still hanging around with her parents" age.  Not that either ever seemed to mind that.  She always enjoyed The Parentals, and, as far as she could tell, they enjoyed her.  (And if anyone knows otherwise, they should keep that little tidbit to themselves, because as we all know, ignorance is bliss.)

Actually, The Parental's household was always an open door whereby the singles of their local house of worship could commence to fellowship.  And fellowship they did.  Game Nights.  Home Groups.  (Ah, heck - you know how those churchy singles are...any excuse for a get-together.)   And she wasn't alone; there was another sister of  a marrying age just behind her....  So I'm sure you can understand the man's motivation to get those eligible maidens hitched, as it were.

So, Bob, The Father, decided that Bob, Not The Father, and Eligible Daughter #1 might be a good match for one another.  Bob, Not The Father, was attending the same church at the time, and it was convenient for him to join in on the singles' reindeer games.  And henceforth, the two met.  And became acquainted.  And may or may not have managed to ride together by themselves to and from an event or two, as singles who are getting acquainted are wont to do on occasion.

But as time progressed, Eligible Daughter #1 discovered traits of sweet Bob, Not The Father, that were, well, not conducive to moving forward with their acquaintanceship.

For example, Bob, Not The Father, saw only "G"-rated movies.  And while Eligible Daughter #1 (let's just call her ED#1, for short, shall we?), had been known to enjoy a good animated feature from time to time, she also enjoyed films aimed at, say, an audience of viewers who were old enough to vote.

ED#1 also discovered that Bob, Not The Father, only drove 55.  MPH.  Now ED#1, while no Sammy Hagar, did appreciate the use of the long pedal on the right, and was known to, on occasion, when warranted, drive just a wee bit faster than 55.

It was at this point that ED#1, while never one to be drawn to the proverbial "bad boys", decided that there had to be a happy medium somewhere between tattooed, motorcycle-driving, rock-star wanna-be and staid, sedate, rated "G" observer of speed limits.

And that was the end of Bob, Not The Father.  And she sincerely hopes he's very happy.  Because he was a pleasant person.

And then, eventually - very, very eventually - without the intervention of Bob, The Father - ED#1 would meet the man who would take her to PG movies and drive her around town.

In a rocking Toyota Camry.

And the irony is that he doesn't speed either.

But he does make her heart sing.

A Clean Kitchen...

...is a beautiful thing.

So says the woman who got last night's dinner dishes done just in time to make tonight's dinner.  I bet Martha Stewart never does that.  Yeah, I know...she's got people.

I've got people too.  They just never clean my kitchen.

(Full disclosure: That's not entirely true.  Boy2 unloads.  Boy1 loads.)

(In theory.)

Even when the boys do their unload/load routine, there are still little things to finish up behind them, and I should be better about making sure I have a clean canteen every night before I go to bed.  I cook three squares a day most days, so a messy kitchen is a luxury - as it were - that I can ill afford when a hungry boy stumbles downstairs, asking for his breakfast in the a.m.  It's downright un-fun to wake up to.

(The messy kitchen, not the cute boy.)

And on that note, I think I'll go clean my kitchen.