Photo Friday: Apple Time

Mary's class had a field trip to the apple orchard yesterday. Despite the drizzle and humidity, making the day feel more like a steamy summer day rather than the crisp autumn day we were hoping for, we had a great trip.

Apples were picked.



The students learned about how bees are necessary to an orchard, then they went into the refrigerator (basically a refrigerated barn) to see how the apples and cider are stored. Mary didn't care for the strong and sweet apple smell, but I was ready to borrow a jacket and camp out for awhile.



Then it was off to see how cider is produced. It was loud. Can you tell? This pose that she's holding? That's how she spends all of July 4th.



After sampling some cider, the kids hit the playground. They ventured through a hay bale maze, ran through a tunnel of morning glories, climbed on a play tractor, clambered on playground equipment, went through corn stalk tunnels and climbed up bales of hay. One of them sat on the hay bale hill and pronounced themselves queen and then sang their own little made up song.



It was a very good day. And I got to visit the orchard store and buy some apples and apple products. That little visit will make for even more very good days as I am picturing warm, juicy, apple-y things in our future.



I love fall!

**For the record, that last picture is a storage crate of nearly 2,000 apples--NOT the purchase I made at the apple store. I love apples, but that many might be extreme, even for me.

Love Thursday: Love Searches

Saturday afternoon, my husband bought an outdoor fireplace. We had one up until early summer, when the legs gave way because they were rusted/burned through. I guess you could say we killed it. But it died from our love. We used that thing a lot. In fact, my son James, requested a wiener roast nearly every year for his birthday for about 6 years running. And, since his birthday is in late October--prime time for the roasting of wieners and other foods on a stick--we always obliged. We used it year round. Okay, not in February, when all we want to do is hibernate under the covers. My point is, it got a lot of use and when it died, we wanted another to replace it. So after several months without one and the occasional crisp night already making an appearance, replace it we did.

After threatening my three younger children all day with loss of fireplace privileges if they didn't get their rooms clean, evening finally came and with it clean rooms and bright happy faces at the thought of sitting out around the fire. I was excited too. I had a nice glass of Pinot Noir in my hand and had donned a cozy sweatshirt. I was ready to r-e-l-a-x. Alas, it was not to be.

The rest of the family had already pulled up chairs and were enjoying the heat from the fireplace as I was trying to tidy up and make my way out the door. Tilly had been prancing anxiously back and forth in front of the back door because she didn't want to be left out of the festivities. There was absolutely no meat involved in this particular evening around the fire, but Tilly did not care. She wanted out. As people came in and out the back door, they were all very careful, reminding each other to watch out for the dog. So guess who thought she was being careful?

Did you guess me? You did?! You win the million dollar grand prize. Er, minus the million dollars...

Tilly was out the door before I could grab her collar. I went after her, but not quickly, thinking that she'd stop when she came to one of the children. Wrong. It was dark and she just vanished. And not gradually either. It was like she melted into the night. That's a pretty nifty trick for a tan/yellow dog. But that's what happened.

We got the whistle. We got the dog treats. We got the squeaky ball. We got nuthin'. We walked around the cul-de-sac calling and whistling and squeaking. Pat took off hoping to find her down the street. I sent the children into the cul-de-sac behind our house and then I went into the back yard and called and whistled.

After about 5 minutes, Pat came home and got in his car to look around the neighborhood. The kids and I called and whistled and squeaked some more with exactly the same results. No dog. I didn't want to leave the fire unattended, but I also didn't want to stand around in my backyard, hollering for a dog that obviously was not around to hear us.

Finally after listening to my children grow more and more panicked, I called Patrick and asked him if he thought it would be safe for me to leave the fireplace unattended and take the kids in the van to look for the dog too. He welcomed the help, so the kids and I piled in the van armed with flashlights. I rolled the windows down and slowly drove through the neighborhood calling Tilly's name out the window.

The kids took turns calling the dog. I kept reassuring them that we'd find her. "She's micro chipped," I explained. "Her name and our phone number are on her collar. If someone finds her before we do, they'll call us. Worst case, she'll be picked up without a collar and whoever finds her will have her checked for a chip. It'll be okay."

James called and tried to reassure Sean that everything would be okay. Sean alternated between calling the dog and breaking down in tears. Mary called the dog and offered her things. "Tilly!! Come home! We have your squeaky ball! Come home! We have a cozy bed! We have treats!"

I didn't want to mention the absolute worst case--that a driver wouldn't see her in the dark and that we wouldn't get her back. It was too awful to think about, so I just kept whispering prayers and shouting for the dumb dog.

Patrick and I headed home at the same time; him to get a flashlight and scramble through the trees to check the bajillionaire neighborhood and me to check the answering machine. Nothing.

I climbed back into the van. Now I was worried that we wouldn't find the dog, but I was also worried that I'd be getting a phone call from my husband asking me to come explain to the police just exactly why he was prowling back yards in a gated community with a flashlight. I might have mentioned before that we are Riffraff. Yeah. We totally are.

He called me several minutes later asking me to pick him up outside the gates. I found him by the side of the road and he got in to drive. We decided to cruise the next neighborhood where we'd found Tills before and then we'd head back to our house again to check the phone.

We found nothing, yet again, so we headed back to our house. Neither of us was willing to talk about how long we'd keep the search up, but it was getting late and the kids were needing to head to bed.

As we were heading down our street, we saw some of our neighbors around their own fire pit in their back yard and decided to stop and asked if Tilly had made an appearance. Knowing how she is drawn to people, (Attention Ho) we thought there was a small possibility that they might have seen her. The boys scrambled out of the van to go ask. Patrick and I waited impatiently in the van. Mary sang a song about Tilly. As the boys climbed back in they reported that no one there had seen the dog.

Unsure of exactly what to do next, Patrick pulled away from the curb and drove about two houses down. And then, James yelled "There she is!"

And sure enough, there she was, sniffing the tree in our neighbor's yard, oblivious to anything but the delicious scents wafting up her little doggy nostrils. Pat and the boys clambered out and Tilly wagged and cowered. Oh yeah. She totally knew that she was in trouble. Except that she wasn't. We were much too happy to have found her to scold her. She was hugged and kissed and hugged some more, all the while being bathed in Puppy Talk.

We headed home, gave her a much-needed bowl of water and then tried to proceed with our interrupted evening around the fire. We talked about our scariest moments and thoughts during our search. We talked about how happy we were to have her back and how different life would be without our Silly Tilly around. We talked about how great it was to pull together as a family. I told the kids that as much as I loved Tilly, I loved them even more and if it were one of them that was lost, I would be beside myself and I would never, ever stop looking for them.

We realized later where Tilly must have gone. Our neighbors across the cul-de-sac have two Beagles and no fence. We think that Tilly was probably sniffing around to her heart's content in their yard, showing her facility with selective listening and partial attention, never realizing that she was lost.

As I thought about Tilly later in the week, I thought about how similar I am to my dog. I have often wandered through my life, oblivious to my lostness, paying no attention to Who might be calling for me. I have often demonstrated my own facility with selective listening and partial attention, paying no heed when my Master calls. And just like my dog, I put myself in peril each time I do it--living for the pleasure of my whims. But, I am also like my dog, in that I have Someone who loves me and never stops calling, never stops searching, and welcomes me with open arms when I am finally found.

The things you can learn from your dog, huh? Happy Love Thursday everyone! May you listen for the sound of your Master's voice and feel His welcoming love.

I'm Baaaaaack!

Didja miss me? I sure missed writing. It was, however, a fairly productive week and probably this is something that I'll have to do from time to time.

In the last week I was able to decrapify my house. Okay--not completely. Son #2 is still working on getting the last of his things cleaned up and my teenage daughter's idea of tidy doesn't exactly mesh with mine, so we're at about 80% decrapification. And I'm okay with that, considering we were living in the Pit of Despair before I took some time away from non-essential activities to focus.

Now, at least, I have my kids' school binder organized and can find papers and passwords and important information without having to page through stacks and reams of paper. Now, at leas,t I can walk into the family room without tripping over shoes, toys, blankets, and squishing furry dog hair tumbleweeds.

Now, at least, I have my new dry erase calendar put together and labeled. Now, at least, I have the next month's menus figured out. Now, at least, the bathrooms aren't breeding grounds for the next strain of Ebola virus.

My dining room table is still needing to be cleaned up. It is covered with materials for some of my craft projects. The mudroom still needs to be organized. My bedroom still needs some attention from the Cleaning Fairy. (Does she even exist? I've heard about her, but she's never visited my house. Maybe if I believe harder... I BELIEVE! I BELIEVE! I BELIEVE!) My laundry, while never "done," (whatever that means!) is still waiting for me to finish folding it. But, at least it's clean and the children don't have to go to school with their dirty shirts turned inside out. Not that I've ever considered that. *ahem.*

So, yes, there is still plenty to do around here, but I feel like I have a better handle on it. It was strange, though, to realize how hard it was for me not to write. This has become one of my better habits. I mean, I still don't know what you all on your ends get out of coming here, sweet readers, but I know what I get out of having this place. I have realized, in my absence, that this blog is a very good thing for me, health-wise. I am able to release pent up stress--even if I'm not writing about what has me stressed. Just having a place to be creative helps. I was also surprised that I was a little bit grumpy that I couldn't write. Well, not that I couldn't, but that I placed a self-imposed restriction on myself. I didn't realize that blogging had become such an outlet for me. I have heard of people who get grumpy when they don't exercise. And suddenly the light bulb went off!! Aha! Those people aren't as crazy as I had once thought! (Okay, they probably still are certifiable. I mean, grumpy if you don't exercise?? That is complete backwards thinking to me. I get grumpy when I do exercise. Which probably explains why my butt is now the size of a small island...) I was probably a little more obsessive about it and spent a little more time on it than I should have, so I'll be making sure that I moderate myself better now that I'm back. Everything in moderation, right?

I am a happy girl, clacking away at the keyboard. I hope you will continue to visit and comment when you do, because those comments help to fuel my writing. And stay tuned, because guess what's coming? Another post about the dog. Y'all are so lucky...

In The Weeds

Y'all. I am in the weeds. Seriously. Between work and sports practices and games and a husband who travels, I am struggling mightily. As much as I hate it, I am going to have to take a week or so and get my life in order.

Seriously. A week. Just to get myself and my family and my home in some semblance of order. That is some kind of frightening. For a gal who likes be in control and doesn't like to have this much disorder in her life, well, let's just say that life around here has been, um...interesting, lately.

And so, as a drastic measure, I am putting myself on hiatus. Hopefully I will be able to post sooner, but I'm calling it a week to be safe. I am severely curtailing any computer time for myself. I am also not allowing myself to read (until bedtime) or enjoy any other pleasing distraction (yes, Goodwill, I am talking to you) until I have achieved some sense of order. Wish me luck.

In the meantime, if you hear a crazy cackling coming from Indiana, you might just want to send chocolate. And wine...

See you next week!

Weekendy Things: Part II

After a weekend of testosterone infused sports, I needed some girlie time. And I got it Sunday evening. It was an Estro-fest. My bestest girlfriends (minus one :( ) got together for a coffee-klatch.

Okay, it was more of a wine and dessert-klatch, but whatevah! We got together to celebrate a couple of us who have birthdays this month. A very handy excuse to see each other and consume calorie-laden desserts and laugh until our sides ache.

It is right about here that the water from the Jordan River comes in. One of my friends said, "Guess what I have in my purse?" and before any of us could answer, she placed a little bottle of water on the table. "Water! From the Jordan River!! That Jesus was in!! I want to give you all a blessing," she said. We freely accepted it and then laughed as we reflected on the idea of carrying around a little bottle of water in your purse and how this was a really completely unsurprising turn of events. This particular friend is absolutely like that. You cannot be surprised when she says "Guess what's in my purse?" and then proceeds to pull out a bottle of water from half-way around the world.

That is one of the joys of the friendships I have with these women--their completely different gifts and talents and personalities. They are all so very different from me, and yet I am completely drawn to them for that exact reason. What a wonderful thing!

These dear women have been steadfast in their friendship over the last 10 years. We have been through lots together and don't always get the chance to see each other as often as we'd like. You'd think that as our children age it would get easier, but it doesn't. We have to do some serious calendar finagling just to be able to spend a couple of hours every couple of months together. In fact, it's been a year since I've seen one of these dear ladies. And that is just wrong! You can bet that I will be working hard to remedy that situation!

We all became friends when we attended the same church nearly ten years ago. We all lived in a five mile radius of each other. Our kids were all nearly the same age. In almost ten years time, the church that we once attended ceased to exist and several of us have moved. So now we live in a 30 mile radius, and our children range in ages from college to pre-K and we all attend different churches.

Even so, our friendship has weathered all of this. And that, my friends, is a "God Thing." We try mightily to get together every couple of months, but it's very hard for the five of us to find one time when we can get together.

When the starts align and we are able to get together, the time is cherished. Hugs and news are passed around freely. Laughter is the order of the evening. Sore cheeks are a must. We catch up and it is like time hasn't passed.

I believe it is a very rare thing to find a circle of friends that you can count on without thinking twice. And that is what I have found in these ladies; women who have my back, women who can call my bluff and then catch me when I'm teetering on the edge of that bluff, women who have experienced some of the very things I'm experiencing, and women who never tire in their support and encouragement.

These ladies have given me kind words, fierce hugs, gentle admonishment, steady encouragement, and good chocolate. They have shared tears, laughter, anger, and wine. And the common thread through all of our days has been our shared love for a Savior who loves us more fiercely than we love each other. And that is saying something.

Until next time, my friends. It cannot come too quickly.

Weekendy Things: Part I

I'm baaaaaaack! See? I told you. I am nothing if not true to my word. Except. I'm not telling you everything about my weekend. Remember how I piqued your interest with the whole Jordan River water thing? Well, I decided that since this will be a picture heavy post and the thing with the Jordan River in no way correlates to the pictures I'm about to show, that I would divide my weekend into two separate posts, thereby giving you two distinct snapshots of my weekend and giving me something to post about tomorrow. Since we've already decided that dog hair tumbleweeds are not blogworthy...

Aaaanyway, most of my weekend was spent shuttling sweaty boys to ball fields and then filling their empty stomachs with massive amounts of food because they were starving because they played so hard and I never feed them. Ahem.

Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of Sean's baseball game. He had a double-header--as he will through out the fall ball season (there go my Saturdays!)--and as I was trying to make my way to his first game, I was also trying to kill a migraine. So I forgot my camera. And then the migraine tried to kill me, so I went home and and crashed in bed for the afternoon. So! Pictures of the slugger after next weekend, perhaps.

I do have pictures of James, however, as his game was on Sunday. And by Sunday I was back to myself again and remembered to bring the camera. This was the first game of the season and he was revved up and raring to go. He is playing center this year and was extremely excited to have his first game and "hit somebody."

So here you have it--the Royals (our team) versus the Eagles.


They had a kid on their team who was a triple striper. Stripes are based on weight. If you have a stripe, you are not allowed to carry the ball. Guess who was lined up against my 93 pound son?

Just to give you a visual comparison between the big boy and another of his teammates.



He was literally head and shoulders above the rest of his team. I think that possibly he was already shaving.


But my son? He took. him. down!


The boys won by a nice margin, 19-6 and just to show that they are still boys, some of them skipped off the field when the game was over. Cracked me up.



The other kids came with me. (Patrick came early when James had to be there and stood on the sidelines while we sat in the bleachers.) Maggie gave a running commentary on the people that walked by or were in the stands with us, while Mary and Sean discovered a whole 'nother world under the bleachers.



I wish every game we go to would have bleachers. It's free entertainment for my younger set, making for a fairly distraction-free game.

Except for when they would sneak under me and tickle my legs and freak me the heck out.



Oh well. It's worth a case of the noseeum heebie-jeebies to be able to watch the game.

Next weekend, we'll have another double header on Saturday for Sean and another game on Sunday for James. Not sure when I'll get my laundry done. We may have to go naked.

Now that would make for an interesting game!

Stay Tuned

I am beat. It was a busy weekend. Filled with, um...busy weekendy type things. I promise, promise, promise to come back and write a little about what I did with myself and why I'm late with my post. It may involve things like sports and desserts and a long-overdue get together with friends.

I know. You are riveted. You cannot wait. Will I pique your interest if I tell you that water from the Jordan River was involved?

Yeah. Come back later. You know you want to...