Stolen bras recovered, but no bust made :: WRAL.com

Best headline I've read in a while. Don't really care about the story! lolStolen bras recovered, but no bust made :: WRAL.com

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towanda

With the soon advent of The Rain (this event in the Pac NW gets its own capital letters), A. decided today was "strip the garden day."

We betook ourselves to our garden plot, which, once The Rain comes, will become a large field of chocolate pudding, hazardous to muck boots and small children. We lost a child out there once. (We did eventually retrieve her.) So the goal was clear: harvest the harvestable. Strip the bushes of the remaining zucchini and crookneck squash. Uproot the carrots. Harvest every tomato 2" or greater in diameter; they'll ripen off the vine.

We brought three buckets and one box for corn and squash. We ended up borrowing two more buckets and using a laundry basket.

We are blessed, pressed down, shaken together and running over with tomatoes.

I beseech you, send me recipes. I only like fried green tomatoes in small batches. There's only so much relish and jam I can make.

A's job now is to find a way to set these tomatoes up so they do not go to waste while I determine what to do with them!

What would you do?

begorrah

Something I've never noodled out before is the relative merits and deficiencies of bond weights of paper. Apparently 20 lb paper messes up our laser printer; 24 lb does not.

I am supposed to remember this from an apparent tragic occurrence in my distant past: 20 lb paper messes up the printer, and it's a pain to fix. I only remember this dimly. However, I strongly remember that someone in the family likes really really bright white paper.

I NEVER BUY THE PAPER for the printer. Until last night. When I failed to purchase the correct kind. It's mighty bright though.

Here's a linky that tells me about paper and weights. The metric system has us beaten all to smithereens when it comes to understanding this.

Now that I've been enlightened both as to my terrible memory AND how paper bond weight works, I will gather together the shreds of my tattered pride at coming in $1 under my budget, go and exchange the paper for the PROPER weight (24!!!), ENSURE that it also is bright enough, and peace will reign.

Or maybe not, now that I've posted this.
I sure feel better though.

scenes from P-town

My most recent wedding cake. The mother of the groom is a good friend of mine; I was honored to be asked to make this. The bride is German, so when you cut into the cake, it's layered to look like the German flag: from top to bottom, it's chocolate, strawberry, and lemon. Satin Ice fondant covering the cake-- (SOOO much better than Wilton. I will never put that rancid W stuff on any cake ever. again.)--and homemade fondant pearls. Gorgeous! Ahem. If I do say so.






















We have a wee bunny that creeps out at dusk to nibble on the grass. But can I actually OWN a rabbit as a pet? Oh no! It would eat things in A's backyard! I guess the wild ones get a pass for cuteness.














My daughter celebrated her 11th birthday at Tiffany's Skate Inn.
















"Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me....!"

Here's the wee kitten that followed D home from the park. He was adopted by our neighbor and renamed Mr. Darcy. Unfortunately, with such a name, he started to adopt the corresponding antisocial tendencies and an utter disdain for the other plebian cats in the home, so Mr. Darcy had to be removed to another relative's home, to live in proper isolation and splendor.








My garlic turned blue when I made dill pickles. I bought it fresh, but it still turned blue~!




















S won first prize at the Puyallup Fair for her squash that looks like a duck tucking its head under its wing. Notice D in the background? And these are S's new glasses. She likes to look at The Doctor, so why not look LIKE The Doctor, as well?













Below is what my darling husband did while kids and I trekked to California and back: ripped up carpet and put down laminate flooring in the entryway, dining room, and kitchen. SO much nicer to clean; so much better acoustically for the piano.



And that's a wrap.

(No, get it? See? there in the corner?......never mind.)

movin' on up to the east side (well, kent, anyway)

When, in the course of family events, it becomes necessary for a homeschooling family to dissolve the scholastic bonds which have connected them with one another, and to assume, among the other taxpayers of the school district, the separate and equal station to which the laws of compulsory education in Washington State and our Sovereign God (to whom every parent answers) entitle them, a decent respect to my three faithful blog readers requires that I should declare the causes that impelled us, a completely homeschooling family for eight years, to make this decision.

........ahhh, I'm too tired to keep going in Declaration Style.

The previous year of homeschooling/virtual schooling was extremely clarifying for us as a family. The lessons I learned are as follows, in no particular order:
1) The Washington Virtual Academy has blossomed from being a family supportive alternative learning experience to full-blown bureaucracy and top-heavy management; unhelpful, inefficient office staff; and progress-based education rather than mastery-based education (which runs contrary to their parent company, k12).
2) Columbia Virtual Academy is much more relaxed - I set the learning goals, and I can use k12 at the pace I choose to. I am not demoted to being called a "learning coach" as in the other virtual academy. I do all the teaching work - why should I be just a "coach"? It's nitpicky, I know, but it's a subtle undermining of my authority.
3) I spent too much time sorting out sorties, sending the boxers back to their respective corners, and putting myself in time out, rather than actual teaching.
4) Testosterone is a powerful thing.
5) Our church is small. Boys are few. My son has no Christian friends his age. Friendly neighbor kids, but definitely "pre-Christian," if you will.

So back in June, we explored the options for putting D. into school. Seventh grade seemed like a logical time to make a switch, if one were to be made. He is now attending a Christian school in Kent, associated with a church whose pastor is a friend of A's from college.

Get this: D's class? All boys, except for one girl. School uniforms, check. Homework every night, check. Four different teachers to learn to relate to. Papers to try to organize and keep track of. Lessons to learn outside of home. I'm loving it.

I am not loving the (early) morning commute on 167. But that too has its benefits... I can listen to some really good, thought-provoking Bible teaching on the way home in the car.

I am loving having one kid to teach (using k12, enrolled in Columbia Virtual Academy). This way there's only two fallen creatures and their attendant sin problems to deal with, instead of three. :) We're on top, on track, and getting things done.

So we are now half-homeschooling, half-schooling.

I'm exhausted, but it's just fatigue, not stress. I'm excited because of all the possibilities that have just opened up for everyone in my family. I'm grateful for the Lord's provision for D's school tuition; for S's school fund that pays for TYC and violin lessons, and for the general fun time of life that my halflings are now entering into.

But it's after 10 p.m. - I'm about to turn into a pumpkin. Bedtime is 9:30 or 10 because the day starts at 6 am now. I know, I know, welcome back to the real world, right? :)

"put that thing back where it came from, or so help me...!"

So apparently my son was "followed" by a kitten at the park today. It's a wee thing, so I'm sure it didn't follow him very far before it got picked up. Fuzzy and grey. I'm not holding out any hope for the kids, but it's coming on night soon so I guess it can spend one night here. Not like we don't have other animals around. Just not many mammals!

Tomorrow: Pierce County Humane Society.

it's all about her

I just had D come and clean up what he'd left piled around my computer: a bowl of salad plus fork from lunchtime (much salad left); an empty bowl of Moose Tracks ice cream plus spoon (empty), and a small bag of gummy worms (empty).

D said, "Hey! Who ate the rest of my gummy worms?"

I told him the last time I checked, there was one worm left, and I did not eat it.

He stalked to the living room and confronted his sister.

"Did you eat my gummy worm?"

"Yes."

"Did you ASK?"

"No."

"Did you KNOW BETTER?"

"There was only one left! I thought it was meant for me, so I reckoned I could just eat it."


American Princess.

color me pink

And I thought California was hot. :> SO good to be home in the nice, cool Pacific NW...

too much fun

Last week we turned our children loose to summer camp. They went to Camp Wooten, which is near Pomeroy, WA. It's in the middle of NOWHERE. It took me and my friend 7 hours to get the kids there.....and then she and I turned around and came back home, all in the same day.

Tuesday I spent recovering from Monday.

Wednesday A. and I decided to tackle the household dungeon and get it cleaned up from past horrors. Other people might call this a garage, but they haven't visited ours. When A. moved the church office home, it went into the garage, thereby condensing usual garage things into a much smaller space. So Wednesday and Thursday were spent primarily cleaning up mice nests and their leavings, reorganizing boxes and books, Craigslisting what we wanted to get rid of, and Dumping or Goodwilling the rest. (My college English professor would make hay with that last sentence. Nerts to her.) Huge progress! I no longer have a dungeon.

Friday it was time to tackle my darling daughter's room. She is Creative! Artsy! American Girl-themed! Puppies! Dolphins! and just about any other cute exclamatory word you want to submit. I avoid her room, because the creativity is just oppressive at times. Paper. ugh. I have a thing about PAPER. I hate paperwork, I hate scrapbooking, I hate piles of paper, I hate bills and receipts and doing taxes....you get the idea. And this is precisely what S's room is made of. Indeed, the very walls are held up with her drawings and pictures cut out of AG or Cricket magazines... it's just overwhelming to me.

About two hours into the ordeal I realized I needed help with this, because I was gradually getting more and more irate - and that is really not the way you want to welcome home a child who has been away from home all week! ("Hi Mom! Did you miss me?" should not be replied to with "HOLY COW YOUR ROOM WAS A COMPLETE STY I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LIVE THIS WAY!") So my dear husband came alongside to provide aid, support, and recycling. By the time the kids got home, we were mostly done, and I was able to appropriately welcome my children.

Turns out, about 5 blocks from home, S succumbed to car sickness, so my first greeting with her involved a quick hug and a run for some paper towels and cleaning solution for my friend's poor car. I chalked it up to overtiredness and a long day in the car. We took them out to Playa Azul for dinner (S only sipping Sprite and nibbling a quesadilla), and all was well. D fell asleep in the big chair about 9 p.m., S not long after.

12:30 a.m.: The Sixth Sense that all mothers have called all my other senses to stand to attention. A CARPET EMERGENCY had occurred! Apparently the quesadilla and sprite didn't want to stay put. I gave A. the less gruesome task of consoling and helping the daughter while I rescued the carpet.

7 a.m. - D is awake and running a 102.5 fever. He's not been ill like S has, but he's at least able to play a little Godzilla. I log onto the Net to find out how to remove lingering odors from the previous carpet emergency (baking soda, and lots of it!). I go back to bed.

9: 45 a.m. - Whoa, did I oversleep! Both kids now have fevers between 101.5 and 102.5 degrees. They must have had too much fun at camp. They've spent the day snoozing in various locations around the house while I tackle Mount Washmore.

Did I mention we three are going to California on Monday? Maybe not so soon. :)

strawberry shortcake forever

Today was the perfect day for jamming. June Gloom has currently overtaken the previous weeks of sunshine, so it was time to pull out the pectin, sugar, and jars and get some strawberries from Spooner Farms. :) 1 flat will make 3 batches of jam (about 4 pints each), just in case you didn't know. I, however, bought an extra half-flat so I can snack on berries. They're especially sweet this year; the hot weather has really helped bring out the flavor.

A. helped to clean and hull berries, while D and S measured out the sugar. I got to do the cooking bit - which is why I waited for a June-gloomy day, so I wouldn't melt. :)

Of course, with that extra half-flat of berries, I had to make strawberry shortcake, too, since tomorrow's Father's Day and since A. really likes shortcake! I have the official recipe from his grandmother, who has now left this earthly scene.

There's a story here, though, which can be filed under the category of Quirky Family Relations.

Long ago, Grandma Nell made ALL the pies for the family. (A. comes from a long line of pie-eaters.) One time, though, her daughter (my mom in law) ended up making the pies-- and Brep (that's the family "grandpa" word) raved about Karen's pies. From that point on, nothing was ever said about it-- but Grandma Nell never made another pie. Grandma Nell would not deign to acknowledge that there was an issue; she just stopped making pies.

Fast forward a score of years: I am soon to be marrying into the family, and A. tells me I MUST get the biscuit recipe so I can make strawberry shortcake. Grandma Nell most graciously gives me her prized recipe, and A. is happy with the results.

Fast forward another decade: Grandma Nell has passed on. Karen cannot find her old copy of Grandma's biscuit recipe; unthinkable horror! She asks me if I happen to have a copy. Indeed I do! I recite the list to her over the phone.

There's a long pause coming from Michigan. ".....That's NOT the recipe she gave to ME!"

Karen realized that her own mother, when giving Karen the recipe, adulterated it just a little bit so Karen would not become the BISCUIT maker of the family as well!

I love family politics!


Since I have no problems in sharing cooking glory, here's the recipe:

Baking Powder Biscuits

2 c. flour
4 heaping tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
**1/4 c. sugar (**I only put in the sugar if I'm making the biscuits for Strawberry Shortcake--sugar isn't called for in the original recipe)
4 T. shortening - cut into dry ingredients until coarse crumbs form
3/4 - 1 cup milk (depending on texture)

Mix until just combined, then turn out onto a baking stone and pat until about 1" thick. At this point you can use a biscuit cutter; I, however, just pat into a square shape and use a pizza cutter to cut into 12 pieces (4x3) - then pull apart slightly so each has room to bake up nice and crisp. That's my particular stroke of brilliance today - that way, you don't overwork the dough by rolling, cutting, and patting together. Who cares if your biscuits are rectangular, anyway?

Bake at 450º for 10-12 minutes.

Serve with sliced strawberries and whipped topping. :)

new pigpig

Here's our newest addition named Squirt, partnered with Julie. She's overcome her shyness since being paired with Julie, and she's turning into a really friendly animal. Jumpy and fast, as all young cavies are, but talkative and interested in people.

Steve Williams posted a link to a Sims 3 ongoing blog. (I am still stuck in Sims 1 mode - it's an amazingly fun black hole of a time vortex, so I stopped playing it.) This writer set up his Sims characters to be homeless; one an angry, insane, repulsive man; the other, his daughter who is good and caring, but has extremely low self-esteem. The blogger then reports on the choices the Sims make. It's a good read----and probably another black hole in my online computer time. Interesting, nonetheless. You can read about the adventures of Alice and Kev here.

In other news...we planted our garden today. My "salad" row went in first, then the three rows of beans. Further out in the garden are the 4 hills of zucchini, 5 of yellow crookneck, and 7 tomato plants. The garden is so tame and innocent at this time of year, full of promise of succulent, tender shoots... the challenge is to remain on top of the workload so the garden doesn't turn into a monster.

We have a party to attend in 40 minutes, and the kids and I have not yet done our requisite math school for today. Looks like the garden activities of this morning have pushed school to a Friday night thing. Bummer!

The Event

Flopsy pig pig died yesterday afternoon. It was very sad, but good for the kids to experience a small taste of grief, even if only for a beloved pet.

Her final resting place was a Grape Nuts box cut to size. A. let the kids pick where to put her grave, so they chose a spot next to the wisteria bush. S. put a little pot of grass on the spot and we went to Happy Teriyaki for dinner so we could have some Happy in the day.

At the kids' request, we stopped by Petco on the way home.

We now have a little black and white piggie that the kids have dubbed Squirt. She's bonding with Julie extremely well. When we introduced the two, Squirt ran up to the older Julie and stuck her nose under Julie's chin. Julie is being a surrogate mother to her. Squirt is already showing more personality, relaxing, and eating what Julie eats. (Until they were introduced, Squirt just hung out in the pigloo and wouldn't eat--at least that we could observe.) The transformation in Squirt was amazing to watch. These little creatures are very social.

Some remaining tears were shed over Flopsy today, but they're moving on.

flopsy pig pig

I am in here because it would be a sin to laugh right now. I am cursed with a tweaky sense of humor that crops up at inappropriate times.

Early this afternoon A. discovered our oldest guinea pig Flopsy: limp and prostrate, shallowly panting. It's warm outside, so we don't know if this is the result of old age, or if she's just suffering with heat exhaustion.

We gave her an ice pack and misted her with water, but she's still pretty limp, and not looking good.

Kids are distraught, of course. D is more stoic than S, as usual.

Here's the reason I'm banishing myself to my room: S got out a 100 piece jigsaw puzzle box and held it up with a calculating eye. "Is this too big?" she mused. I didn't see where this was going until she got out the box of Breton crackers - a long rectangular-shaped tube - dumped the crackers into a Ziploc bag and caught my eye: "Will this work?" Finally I cotton on to the fact that S is choosing an appropriate coffin for Flopsy's final rest. And the mental image of squeezing a guinea pig into that skinny lil' cracker box made me almost, but not quite, giggle.

So I'm in here, writing it out, so I can go back out there and keep it together and console the disconsolate. Flopsy has been a good pet, and I am rather fond of her. I'm praying for wisdom on how best to help the kids with this. We have been preparing for it for some time - the pig is 7 years old. But when it comes down to it, we aren't really prepared for The Event.

Latest: D and S are now working on a Guinea Pig Album and they want to put pictures together. I must go. Here's a pic of Flopsy last month:

a series of common events

This morning, D. said his band at Maplewood was having an end-of-the-year party. Bring snacks. So I dropped the boy at band and drove to Safeway to get some suitable 9:30 a.m. party snacks. Only one register is open at Safeway, and they're stacked 6 deep with customers.... Success at last! Chocolate chip mini muffins purchased, I headed back to Maplewood. As I rounded the corner, I saw our minivan round the opposite corner, heading back toward home.

Oh. I don't have my cell phone with me. Apparently some plan went awry, or D. got his facts mixed up, resulting in a phone call to come pick him up. So now there are two parents out of the house this morning for the sake of band, which isn't happening, apparently.

I follow the van home. D says the party has been postponed to Monday. The muffins go in the freezer as I state, "these had BETTER be here Monday morning, because I am not buying any more."

S is cheerfully playing Mario Kart Worldwide with some strangers from France and England. Never mind the fact that the Wii is offlimits until all school is done, the opportunistic child was counting on my being gone for a longer period of time.

We turn the Wii off (I am kind enough to let her finish the Koopa Cape race), and sit down at the dining room table to begin math. The kids grab their favorite yogurt flavors to fortify their minds and their intestines. S, unthinking, sets hers at the edge of the table, and then promptly knocks the yogurt off the table onto the carpet. The yogurt flavor? Pineapple upside-down cake.

Delays, delays! I sponge up the carpet while she cleans her bare foot. She reapproaches the table, only to stub her toe on the corner. More delays for a pain rage fit.

This is our typical pattern of life. If I become a year-round schooler, it's not by choice, but by necessity.

sowing and reaping

It's almost June. Schools are winding down, the temperature is winding up, the neighborhood kiddie pools are filling up.

And my kids are inside doing school. Only now do they bemoan the wasted hours, the frittered time. My daughter is in a rage right now because the kids next door are making too much noise as they swim in their pool and slip on their waterslide. She wants me to go next door and tell them to be quiet.

S is at the emotional stage right now where everything is traumatic. The self-hair pulling, the hands clasped over her ears, the stompings and wailings and throwing of schoolbooks. Get over yourself, girl. You're reaping what you've sown. Plant something different next time.

That may sound like I lack compassion, but that's not the case. I'd rather be done, too. But this experience, too, is school, and she needs to learn that choices have consequences.

I hope the lesson sticks.

pulpit fail

We receive many emails from different organizations of varying Christian stripes - so much so, that they tend to blur together.

This morning, however, we received an e-newsletter from a church where I personally was familiar with their pastor and his ministry. Since it made a blip on my recognition radar, I clicked on the link and had a look around.

Apparently they have a new pulpit - a gift from a like-minded church located in Hammond, Indiana (with which, sadly, I am also familiar).


"THAT IN ALL THINGS HE MIGHT HAVE THE PREEMINENCE" is boldly proclaimed in all caps on the front of the pulpit, over a white cross edged with glowing blue. . .

Now, please tell me, while looking at the photo --exactly WHO will be preeminent as the pastor stands in that pulpit?






Riiiiight.



Now, I am 97% sure that this was not considered when the pulpit was being designed. However, there is that cynical 3% within me that makes me just shake my head, when I consider the source-- which displays that stripe of thought that the Pastor is God's Man, never to be questioned, challenged, or held to account for sin; the giving church worships their preachers and a particular Bible version and pushes the grace of God and the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the background. So - to my cynical 5% (it's growing) it's interesting that the man is stationed ABOVE the Cross of Christ.

That in all things HE might have the preeminence.



Sigh.

deadline

30 days hath September,
April, June, and November...

Just wanted to get one post in for the month of April, since it is now April 30....


Harking back a bit, one month ago today I was in Quebec.

I still have travel photos on my camera to upload, and travel stories to tell before I forget them (for instance - from Minnesota to Western South Dakota........it pretty much sucks. No offense, or anything, but Dudes. Get some trees. And I mean trees that ARE trees, not some weasly little things that poke out of the ground. The only saving grace was Wall Drug....which must be where all the trees went, to make billboards. Pennsylvania's got the right idea in the tree department, but they go for numbers rather than height.)

But those stories are not for today. I must get my children back on track doing school. We all have a severe case of Spring Fever.

... so I'd better get to bed, if I'm going to do any serious catchup tomorrow!

guest book review: Don Quixote

This is for Rebecca, who's been taking stabs at reading this.


D. read an abridged version of Don Quixote for school, and here's his assessment (and I quote):


"I can tell you the entire story in very few words.

He reads too many books. He becomes a nut. So then he gets a squire, and he trains his squire to become a nut. Eventually he dies because he's a nut."

context, context, context.

A and I are enjoying a quiet evening in the living room. He's reading, I'm playing games on my laptop. Here's the conversation:


Me (playing Scrabble online): "I'm only coming up with four-letter words."

A: "Why? Are you in that bad of a mood?"