Just before I left Mena this spring, I laid down a whole bunch of scratch tracks at a friend's music studio. He was going to give me a deal on some demo tracks so he could familiarize himself with his system, since he was just kind of "getting into" recording. Unfortunately, things in his personal life went a little wonky after I left, and he never really got to it. However, another mutual friend of ours, talented musician Richie Owens, fooled around with the songs and came up with a few interesting renditions that basically built on my scratch piano and vocals that I left.

This is a song I wrote for Jason a few years ago. In my head, I was hearing a Disney-esque arrangement of a full orchestra, like something you might see in a musical. (Yep, I'm just a wee bit influenced by the Musical genre.) Obviously, Richie didn't have that kind of a budget to work with. When I listened to this Reggae version, though, I laughed out loud--it was so creative and original, and I would NEVER have thought of doing it that way in a thousand years--but I love it!

Yesterday, I spent the day finally setting up my MySpace page, but I set it up as a musician so I could post and share my songs easily. Go over there and find this song, and feel free to check out the other ones I have posted while you are there. ("Rock Me, Baby" and "Dancing With Daddy" are two other more recent songs that I finally got recorded and are a couple of my favourites.)

Enjoy!

Love Song To Remember
Words and music by Talena Winters

I think I've tried about a thousand times to write a song for you
But every time I try the notes fall flat, and the words just can't get through
What can I say that hasn't been said a thousand times before?
How can I explain the way I feel with only a few notes and chords?

But maybe there's a chance that I can get it right this time
Catch the rhythm of our dance and capture it inside a rhyme
Hook the lyrics of romance and reel them in upon a line
And make this a love song to remember

Never knew that it was possible that each day I'd love you more
In the movie of a life, love is the score
We started with the solo violin, a melody so sweet
One by one, the instruments come in--now we have a symphony.

And maybe there's a chance that I can get it right this time
Catch the rhythm of our dance and capture it inside a rhyme
Hook the lyrics of romance and reel them in upon a line
And make this a love song to remember

Like a song the charts just can't ignore
Your love leaves me satisfied, and wanting more.
Maybe there's a chance...

And maybe there's a chance that I can get it right this time
Catch the rhythm of our dance and capture it inside a rhyme
Hook the lyrics of romance and reel them in upon a line
And make this a love song
And make this a love song
Make this a love song to remember

I get very frustrated during this season. As someone trying to live out my faith in Yeshua (Jesus) the way that He would have me do, I am very saddened to see so many celebrating a festival that is only nominally in his honour, and which has origins that are surprisingly dark. Each passing year, this holiday gets more difficult for me to accept and even tolerate. For anyone wondering about where the many traditions of Christmas actually came from, and what the Bible really has to say about it, I recommend reading the following article.

The Shocking Origins of Christmas: Should Christians today celebrate this ancient festival? Many today may think it is all right, but the opinions of men are not our standard or authority. What does the Word of YEHOVAH God itself say about this matter? It is a very serious question. Is it all right in the sight of YEHOVAH for men to take pagan customs and traditions, and to observe them, calling them "Christian"? Is it all right to merge and combine PAGAN practices with the truth of YEHOVAH God?

According to the prophet Malachi, YEHOVAH does not change (Mal.3:8). His laws and commandments are eternal (Psa. 111:7-8). Does YEHOVAH say it is all right to observe the traditions and customs of the pagans?

May you and your family be blessed.

The first time my dad came to visit us in Peace River, he commented on the number of "oversized" people he noticed. It wasn't his imagination--Peace River has the highest obesity rate in Alberta. I am not sure why, exactly, because there are plenty of opportunities to be active. I have a few theories, such as how long and cold our winters are--it does not encourage getting outside much in the winter. When I lived in town, I remember being quite frustrated with the fact that we lived in a small neighbourhood on top of a hill and the snow was not usually cleared from most people's sidewalks, making a winter walk with the stroller nearly impossible. (I tried once, and ran into a snow-hidden pipe sticking up out of the sidewalk with the front wheel of the stroller. I had had the wheel locked so it would be pushed more easily, and this broke the lock. Grr.)

Interestingly, the first time Mike came up and visited us in Peace River from Arkansas, he couldn't believe how skinny we Canadians were! I was a little amazed, considering that there were way more people here that looked a little "fluffier" in my eyes than where I had come from. However, after moving to Arkansas, I understood why he thought that. It truly seemed that people down there that were fit and thin were in the minority. Teenage girls would walk around in low-rise jeans and cropped shirts and rolls of fat hanging over the waistband. To me, it looked awful--but if all your friends are in the same shape, and doing the same thing, I guess you wouldn't realize it, would you?

Jason and I were probably both at the heaviest weight of our lives last winter--Jason, thanks to the desk job he had had for the past few years, and me, thanks to several years of lowered activity and a summer of Tim Horton's bagels. We went to karate to try and change that. When I made comments about how out-of-shape I was, people in the class would laugh. I honestly started keeping those things to myself, because I really didn't have as far to go as many of the others there.

It seemed that many teenagers (especially girls, for some reason) were well on their way to a double chin by the age of twenty. Wal-Mart was especially bad. (It is here, too, for some reason.) I think it's the motorized carts--it always made me think that if they would get off the cart and actually walk around to buy their groceries, they might find they don't need it!

I am not relating this to gawk in incredulity. I actually found it rather sad. I started asking why?

There were a few answers that I guessed at. For instance, the one (and ONLY!) time I tried to buy a roast from an actual grocery store, I went to the only two in town and could not find any fresh-cut and butchered meat. They had all been pre-packed and injected with a solution--in other words, this is inferior meat, raised on inferior feed in an inferior environment, and they were trying to mask that by adding some juice into it. There are a lot of chicken barns in that area, and I tell you, being raised in one of those is no way to make a happy chicken. If you've ever driven by a commercial feedlot, you may not ever want to buy a pre-packaged roast again. But most people do not even think about where their food comes from--and if your only option is to buy garbage (or you don't know that you could find good food from your neighbour down the road if you only asked), then you eat the garbage and don't even realize that it IS garbage.

In fact, less people there seemed to be aware of how what they ate could affect their health. Or, if they knew, they didn't care. Some people seemed to be afraid to know. Or offended that anyone would figure that what they were doing might be the reason they were slated for cancer or diabetes or obesity in only a few years (if it wasn't already too late).

But, on the other hand, I also knew many Albertans that maintained similar lifestyles to the Arkansans I knew, yet were not as overweight. Why not, I wondered? Could it actually have something to do with being cold for so much of the year?

Not long ago, I came across this little blurb that may support that idea:

(Wise Traditions, Summer 2009): Brown fat is a type of adipose tissue which has the sole purpose of expending energy. Biologists once thought that brown fat disappeared after infancy, but new studies show that most adults have unexpectedly large and active deposits of this calorie-burning fat. According to scientists, the only safe way to activate brown fat is to stay chilly, right on the verge of shivering, for prolonged periods. This causes the fat to use up calories to keep us warm. As expected, leaner people have more detectable brown fat than overweight people. Studies show that stimulating the production of brown fat in mice--which can be done by injecting them with a growth factor called BMP7--makes them resistant to gaining weight or to developing diabetes when fed a high-calorie diet (Washington Post, April 9, 2009). Naturally, scientists are looking for ways to increase brown fat in humans--by injection or pill--the typical reductionist mentality. What would be really interesting to know is what kind of nutritional support allows us to carry large amounts of brown fat from infancy into maturity, so that we know how to ensure that lucky condition of being able to eat lots of food but not gain weight."

Well, to answer that last question, I could look at my paternal family. My dad has seven brothers and one sister. Not one of them are obese. Some of them have a few extra pounds around the middle, now that they are getting older, and that's it. Judging from the diets they were raised on, it involves plenty of farm-fresh meat, raw milk and butter and cream, fresh vegetables, and plenty of work involved to grow and produce your own food.

After my cleanse this spring, I managed to drop 8 pounds, but then gained a few of them back on the trip up here and in the summer months. However, I am now back to a trim, healthy weight that I am quite happy with. I like how my body looks. And I like the full-fat food I eat. Yes, I am much more active than I have been in several years--which I love! But this article got me to thinking...

Apparently, there ARE perks to winter! Maybe I shouldn't be in such a hurry to build an airtight house--apparently the draughts are keeping me thin! :-)

On Tuesday, Noah was sitting at the lunch table.

"Look at me, Mom!" he exclaimed. I glanced over and saw this:




"I'm a turtle!" he said.

Then he went on to explain how turtles pulled in their heads and boots when they were sleeping. He gabbed for a good ten minutes.

I think God gives us children to remind us what it is like to be filled with wonder. If we have forgotten, they teach us how again. Then it is our job to help them keep it.

A few weeks ago, Jason was helping me do dishes when he casually brings up the fact that a kind German couple that was selling some Malamute/Shepherd X puppies offered to give him one.

You may recall that when we got Shiloh, I was trying to get a dog well past the puppy stage. This was for two reasons: one, we needed a dog mature enough to actually defend itself--and our property--from the roaming wildlife. And two, PUPPIES ARE A LOT OF WORK!!

Now, although we already have a dog that is good on the defensive line, there were new concerns: said already-owned dog still needed a lot of work and training; our yard had a lot of stuff laying around in it that I didn't want to get chewed up, but it wasn't within my jurisdiction to do something about it (nor did I have the time); although the puppy was already a good size, we really didn't have a spot for it to stay warm in the cold weather that would soon be upon us; plus, this dog would be BIG, with an appetite to match--big $. I didn't say much at the time, though. Jason already knew how I felt about it.

Two days later, on a Saturday afternoon when we were "out-and-about," Jason casually suggests that he thought we could take the kids to look at the puppies. Not to get one or anything, "just for something to do." Right. I figured he thought one look at those puppies would melt my heart. They were pretty cute, alright.

However, we didn't have a puppy in the van on the way home. We had an elephant.

We finally did discuss it, though, and the concerns were addressed and dealt with as best as could be. Jason agreed that this would NOT be an inside dog (I hate dog hair on everything) and I agreed that he could get a puppy.

The next day he brought it home after work. The first thing he did was put it in our front door! That lasted long!

Well, he has been an outside dog for the most part. However, last weekend, with the temperatures hovering around the -40 mark, all the animals (except Shiloh) spent most of their time inside.

We have now had Koda for about two weeks. He has a sweet personality, and he has grown a LOT already.



As puppies go, he actually hasn't been too bad so far. He gets along with the cats (well, not Sumi, but she doesn't get along with anybody!) and he is pretty smart. He made a few messes inside, but I think he's learning about that, too.

We are all glad that the super-cold weekend has passed--the temperatures stayed down there for about 5 days. It felt like 3 weeks. Thankfully, we are back up to right around freezing temperature.

That means the dog is BACK OUTSIDE!!

The day after I went to get Sumi, I was supposed to pick up a mother cat and her two six-week-old kittens, a good forty-five minute jaunt away. The plan was that they would be outside kitties, keeping the general mouse population in check around the yard.

I packed all the kids in the van and drove a few miles before pulling over and calling the owner back for directions, since the cell phone service at our house is beyond bad. (One of the "perks" of living at the edge of the wilderness, I guess!) I was a little chagrined to find out when I called her that the mother was no longer part of the package, as the owner's daughter had a weeping fit when she found out about it. However, since we were already en route, and the kids were SO excited about getting kittens (okay, I was excited, too), I decided to go for it, anyway.

The plan would have to be revised, somewhat. These two kittens were too small to be put outdoors on their own just yet, so they would need to be inside for several weeks, at least. You can imagine how thrilled my feline-allergic husband was when he came home that night to find that the inch he gave was being pushed to three miles with the new additions!

But they were so CUTE!

Of course, being kittens, they hadn't learned their manners yet, either. Oh, yes, they were very friendly and social, (and were already litter box-trained) which we all loved, but they also did some not-so-lovable things. Such as climbing up the furniture with their claws (well, they were too little to just jump up, right?) And tearing the batting out of the inside of our nice reclining couch. And climbing up the inside of the couch with their claws! And chewing on cords. And digging in my houseplants. And pulling the difficult-for-humans-to-access television cord out of the wall.

I loved having them in the house, actually. They were very entertaining, and I'd never had a house cat before. Not only that, they actually came and had naps in your lap, and enjoyed being petted (unlike Sumi-the-sociopath). However, after several weeks of coming home and having his head stuff up immediately, Jason spent an entire weekend building them an insulated cat house and they then got to move outside.

It took them a bit to adjust. They actually were able to climb up the weather stripping on our front door and get on top of the trailer. I rescued them once, but the next time they did it, they were on their own. Actually, Simba injured his paw while jumping down, so he cured himself really quickly. He limped around on that thing for a few weeks. Nala decided it was no fun up there by herself, and by the time Simba's paw had healed, they had both found better, safer ways to get away from Shiloh.

Yes, he was the real reason they were so desperate to get to the highest point they could find. He just wanted to play, but he was about 8000 times their size. The poor little tikes really had no defence against his ginormity. Simba, the feistier of the two, was pretty funny to watch as he stiffened up and spat ferociously, but Shiloh just seemed to think it was part of the game, and it encouraged, rather than discouraged, him.

Despite all this, I thought the cats were doing an okay job of staying out of harms' way until one day, when we came home from church, and I saw Shiloh out in the field (far away from the trailer, the shed, or any form of shelter) playing with some kind of critter in the snow. When I got closer, I saw it was Nala. He was picking her up and tossing her around like a beach ball. I was not impressed, to say the least. Not only that, but I was surprised that Nala had let herself be driven that far from safety. The poor thing was soggy, and it was below freezing, so she got to come in for a few hours to warm up. It was the day of Jude's birthday party (early November), and she just cuddled into my mom's lap and slept for about two hours.

Since then, the kittens have been soggified several times, but they are also growing. They can hold their own a little better against the dog, and they seem to care a little less, too. I don't think he usually hurts them, just licks them all over (not a good thing in this weather.) Maybe they feel it less, now that their winter coat has come in so nice and full. They are pretty chunky underneath all the fluff, too!

Jason keeps trying to get me to take Sumi back by saying that then Nala can come inside. (Nala loves laps!) I think I would just feel like I let Sumi down if I take her back. Or maybe it would be more like I failed and let myself down. I don't know. I don't mind her as much, now, anyway. She still minds a lot when the kittens come in on the odd cold day, but that's easy enough to deal with, so I dunno--besides, the kittens both being outside together do a better job of staying warm.

Pretty soon, though, it's going to be spaying/neutering time. Ugh. The poor things have no idea what's coming.

Maybe it's better to be innocent...


Next post: The Troublemaker

A long, long time ago, I posted about the first four-legged creature to join our farm. It's about time that all the more recent additions got a proper introduction, I think.

In all honesty, I think that before Shiloh even arrived, the first critters to move in were the MICE! Having our trailer sitting here, unskirted, and with plenty of places that you could see daylight from inside that weren't windows, was pretty much the equivalent of an open invitation to the little rodents. Actually, it was less like a civilized invitation to an afternoon tea party, and more like a Vegas Casino, with big neon flashing arrows saying, "C'mon in! The food's in here!"

So, despite the fact that my allergic-to-cats husband had once promised that we would NEVER have a cat indoors, the little mouse droppings in all the wrong places soon persuaded him to allow me to go pick up some freebies.

The first one to come home was Sumi. "Sumi" is Japanese for "psycho cat with severe antisocial tendencies."

She came from a single male owner who was renovating his house, and seemed concerned that the noise was bothering her. Also, it wouldn't be long before his floor was ripped up, and he thought she might run away. This maybe should have been my first clue that what we were getting wasn't exactly the ideal "lap cat" I was looking for. However, he seemed to think she was a good mouser, and that was all I really cared about at the moment.

Of course, as I was picking her up (and it's not like she was right in town, or anything--it was a bit of a drive to get there), he mentions that she doesn't really like new people, and that it takes her about six months to get used to new cats. Hmm. Well, since she was already in the van, I felt somewhat committed, so she came home anyway.

Sumi has got to have more psychological problems than any other cat I've ever known, and given the fact that most cats tend to be a little psychotic, this is really saying something. When we got her home, she disappeared under our reclining couch. Then she didn't come out. At all. For two days. Finally, after deciding that this was ridiculous, Amanda M. and I hauled her out forcibly and put her in the cat litter box. Apparently, she had been holding it for two days! (Thank goodness that there were no messes anywhere.) Then she promptly went looking for another place to hide.

Thanks to the kittens that we brought home the day after Sumi (more about them tomorrow), who were very social and preferred the active, "living-room" end of the house, it wasn't long before Sumi decided that her preferred hiding spot was under our bed. This annoyed Jason because of his allergies. This annoyed me, because I much prefer sleeping with my bedroom door closed, but if we did that, she would wake us up meowing at ungodly hours, regardless of which side of the door she had been on when we retired.

Her encounters with the kittens were brief, hiss-and-run affairs, and we saw very little of her at all until they were moved permanently outside. Sumi was so reclusive, in fact, that nearly two weeks after we got her, she went streaking by Jabin up the hall towards our bedroom (her only speeds are "full out run" or "full stop"), and he exclaimed, "What was that?!" Because of this, she has been nicknamed "The Invisible Cat."

The first photo was taken September 4, not long after we got her. Here, she has decided to hide between the washing machine and the wall, behind the bathroom door. She would also hide in the pantry (until I got the door re-hung after painting) and behind the pressure tank, until our water actually got fixed and she decided it was way too noisy and busy in the bathroom from then on.


Sumi has gradually warmed up to us (at a pace akin to how a captive would acclimate to living with cannibals). She has bonded to me the most, and will often come out in the evening, after the kids are in bed and I am usually employed doing something that gives me lap, and she will sit with me. When she wants affection, she is actually somewhat demanding, like she craves it and is afraid of it at the same time. Unfortunately, she kneads. With claws. That gets her tossed off my lap immediately.

She is getting better, though. She also spends a fair amount of time out here during the day, now. This photo, taken last week, shows one of her favourite spots to sit: by the front door, at the entrance to the hallway. She can survey the kitchen, dining room and living room activities from this spot, but if anyone makes the slightest move in her direction, she can immediately bolt back up the hallway to the safety of her den under our bed.


She is quite pretty, with unusual eyes--mostly gold, but with a ring of green around the pupil. However, this particular look is "We are NOT amused." The cause of her consternation will be the subject of Part Three.

For a while, I had all but decided to take her back once her previous owner's renovations were at a point that would allow it. However, as she has thawed, I am now worried that she would re-experience all the moving stress she finally seems to be letting go of, even if I took her back to her previous owner. Plus, there is evidence that she may have been responsible for the deaths of two mice. If there were more, no evidence was left. Also, mousey activity in general seems to be down, of late, so she might actually be serving her purpose.

Anyway, the jury's still out.

Tomorrow's episode: The Kittens

I cooked up a turkey last week which no one seemed at leisure to help us come eat, so we therefore have copious amounts of leftovers to go through. This was last night's creative solution, upon viewing of which two of my three children declared that they LOVED it, regardless of the fact that they had never had it before.

The taste did not disappoint, and there were barely enough leftovers for Jason to create a decent-sized lunch for today!

I guess we're making this one again...

Fancy Turkey and Feta Casserole
Feeds 4-8 people (depending on appetite!)

3 tbsp. butter
1/4 cup chopped onion
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
3 sticks celery, chopped
3 c. potatoes, peeled and diced into 1/2-inch cubes
1 tsp. course gray sea salt
1 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. ground sage
1/2 tsp. whole cardamom (not in the pod)
2 portabella mushroom caps, diced
1/4 c. pine nuts
1/4 c. raisins
2 c. cooked turkey, cubed
4-5 slices sprouted grain bread, cubed (can be day-old or stale)
1/4 c. butter
3/4 c. homemade turkey stock
1/4-1/2 c. feta cheese
salt and pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.

In 12-inch cast iron pan, melt first amount of butter on med-low. Sauté onions, garlic and celery for several minutes until onions wilt. Add potatoes, salt, thyme, sage and cardamom and cook for about five minutes, stirring occasionally. Add portabellas, pine nuts, raisins, and turkey, and stir-fry for a couple more minutes.

Meanwhile, melt second amount of butter. Put bread cubes in the bottom of a 9"x13" pan. Pour melted butter over top and stir around until bread is coated, coating pan with butter in the process. Add turkey mixture and toss together. Pour turkey stock over, then crumble feta cheese on top. Adjust seasonings to taste.

Bake until feta and bread cubes look toasted, about 20 minutes.

This weekend, I made a pair of mittens for Jabin.


This means that I have made complete hat/mitten/scarf sets for all my children this year. This is actually the second pair of mitts for Jabin, but the previous pair went missing this spring somewhere in between moving between four houses. (I know they made it to Alberta. Don't know where they are now.)

Actually, come to think of it, Jabin's current set was originally Noah's. However, I started a new one for him this spring, since the ones he was pictured in last January are too small for him. I purposely made the newest mittens bright red so that, unlike the hunter green/navy combination (a colour choice originally made by Jude--he grew out of them before I finished! Oops!), they would not only be easily visible against the snow, but also in the mittens' basket and van.


These are the mittens I made Noah. The photo was taken right after they were finished. They look a little the worse for wear, now--but they are doing the job! (He's got a matching jester hat and zig-zag scarf to match. I don't think I have a photo, and don't have time to take one right now, sorry.)


After I knit the mittens, I line them with polar fleece for extra warmth and windbreak. Since the HIGH yesterday was -23 degrees Celsius, I think you will agree that it's a necessary step! (I still have to line Jabin's, but they are much better than the thin Magic Mitties he has been using since he lost his last good pair.)

The project finished just before beginning on Jabin's Rosy Reds was Jude's Camo Toque, which finished his set. I don't know why the kid is so into camo, other than that his friends are. It must be a boy thing. I'm not going to try to understand it, I'm just going to go with it. Which is why I let him choose camo yarn for his winter warmth gear this year.


Finishing Jabin's mittens so fast, and therefore finally having a fully be-mittened family, inspired me to whip up an extra few pairs for when the originals are soggy. (Gotta love chunky yarn and bigger needles.) I have tons of Bernat Softee Chunky in child-bright colours, so why not, right? However, just as I was finishing the cuff today, I remembered a few newborn babies in need of shower gifts, so this was immediately transmogrified into the first sleeve of a baby cardie.


Gotta love stripes! I am going to try to knit it in one piece, cuff-to-cuff. No, I've never done it before. No, I'm not using a pattern. Is that a problem? (Patterns are for the bored. Just kidding. Patterns are for the really challenging techniques. Wait a minute--I only try those out when I'm bored. Okay, patterns are for the bored.)

Oh, did I show you this before? It's the new "knitting" bag I got this year. It was a ten-dollar sale purse from Walmart--way too huge to use as an actual purse, 'cause I'd just fill it up, and seriously, is a ten dollar purse worth hundreds of dollars in chiropractor and massage bills? But! Perfect for light, fluffy yarn and bamboo needles! Plus! The bright red colour means that my kids can always find me on the soccer field (since it got a lot of time on the sidelines during soccer season this spring.)


And have I mentioned that red is my favourite colour?

Usually, I try to do an interview-type post with each kid on their birthday, but I missed all three this year, I think! So, here is the way the world looks to my kids right now:

Jabin:

What is your favourite food?: Ice cream
What is your favourite activity?: Play toys.
What is your least favourite activity?: Cleaning up. (Mommy thinks it's taking a nap.)
What is your favourite movie?: Enchanted
Who is your favourite superhero?: Batman
What is your favourite colour?: Pink
What's your least favourite colour?:White
Who is your best friend?: Jude and Noah
What's your favourite book?: I don't know.
What's your favourite animal?: Lion
What's your favourite game?: MarioKart [Wii] and Mario Party [8]
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?: To Tim Horton's
If you could have any toy, what would you have?: My favourite toy is Winnie-Pooh
Do you like snow?: Yeah.
Why?: Because I want to walk in it.
What do you want to be when you grow up?: Batman!

Noah:

What is your favourite superhero?: Superman
What is your favourite food?: Pancakes and hot cereal
What is your least favourite food?: Mushrooms and pickles and tomatoes
What is your favourite movie?: All Dogs Go To Heaven and 3-2-1 Penguins
What is your favourite activity?: Play Wii.
What is your favourite game?: Stuart Little II & Bob the Builder (computer games), MarioKart Wii
What is your favourite book?: Bobcats & Lynx; The Cat In The Hat
Who is your best friend?: Quinton and Emily
What's your favourite animal?: Lion
What's your favourite thing to dress up as?: Lion costume [Still! After two years!]
Do you like kindergarten?: No. I love home school.
Why not?: Because I'm too old. I'm not going to be five, I'm going to be six, now. [In three more months!]
What is your favourite colour?: Green.
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?: Quinton's house. Quinton's house is good.
What is your favourite toy?: Donkey Kong monster truck.
What do you want to be when you grow up?: I just want to go to work just like my dad.

Jude:

What is your favourite food?: Cake and waffles and pie [after much deliberation]
What is your least favourite food?: tomatoes and pickles
What is your favourite colour?: orange
What is your least favourite colour?: purple
What is your favourite subject in school?: Crafts and Spelling
What is your least favourite subject?: Phonics
What is your favourite activity?: Play with my friends; swimming and drawing.
What is your least favourite activity?: I don't have one... I can't think of one. My best guess is being alone. ("Why, Jude?" asks Jabin. No response.)
What is your favourite animal?: Cheetah
If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?: To my friends' house.
Who is your favourite superhero?: Spiderman
What's your favourite movie?: Transformers
Who is your best friend?: Dawson
What's your favourite book?: There are so many books, I can't even think of one. (sigh) I don't have one, then. I have a whole bunch of favourite books.
I know that feeling, Jude. Can you tell me a few of them that you like?: Stuart Little; Dragon Rider; my dragon books [Dragonology; How to Raise and Keep a Dragon]; Sonic comics.
What would you like to do when you grow up?: Be a cowboy. ("Really? You're back to cowboy?" "Well, is there anything you can do on the water?" he asks. "Oh, yeah!"... and I list a half-dozen or so professions. After some thought, he decides he wants to be "a soldier in the air." Two days later, when I am finally getting Noah's section done, he decides he wants to be a Navy officer on a submarine!)

The trouble with organization is that you can never find anything right after you've organized it.

Oh, yeah, it's great... if you've kept things in the same spots for years. But! When you are deciding on the places that things should go on a daily basis, because you are still unpacking things without a permanent home, then it is very easy to forget where that place is almost immediately.

I cleaned my house on Friday, due to the fact that we were expecting some company yesterday to help celebrate Jabin's fourth birthday. After an hour or so at the pool with Amanda M. and her kids, we all came back here for Apple Crisp and Ice Cream (the dessert requested by the birthday boy. Well... he actually asked for apple pie, but Mommy ran out of time on that one, and the "bottom line" item for him was actually the ice cream, so I knew a slight change to apple crisp would not be a big deal. I was right.)

So my house is fairly tidy--not immaculate, but orderly enough that it is easy to see the piles of "stuff to be dealt with."

However, on Friday, I did not have time to tackle my desk. I was purposely saving that for today, for the "okay-I'm-getting-those-taxes-done-once-and-for-all" marathon. So, this afternoon, I ambitiously set about to accomplish my plan. I cleared the desk, purposely picking up several items that needed to be dealt with in their own right, purposely putting them aside and saying to myself, "No, I will deal with that after the taxes are done." (I'm a champion procrastinator. I know this about myself. I procrastinate on getting the most necessary but least-loved chores done by doing something almost-as-necessary but less-dreaded done because it is right in front of me. That's why I did this.)

There was one envelope, a large brown one, that I particularly remember saying this about. I need it to get the form out of with which I can file for re-imbursement of my home school expenses. I know I didn't put it far away.

And yet, after searching the whole house, high and low, the best I can do is to vent my frustrations on you, dear internet. Thanks for listening.

The scene was the supper table. As we got started on our beef barley stew, Noah exclaimed, "Daddy! Listen to my song!"

Then, in a tune reminiscent of Baby Beluga, he sang:

"Ja-son, my dad-dy,
Ja-son, my dad-dy,
Ja-son want to be a costume piwate..."

Apparently, we have another composer in the midst. I'm kind of wondering, though--will he take after me? Or maybe Weird Al Yankovic?

The boys had been playing dress-up while I had my shower this morning. Tomorrow night at AWANA (kids club) it's dress-up night, so they were trying to decide what to be.

While I was applying my mascara with the bathroom door open (so the mirror would clear), Noah wandered in donned in the chef costume. He strained to see in the mirror, but it was a little above his line of sight to get a good view, so he started clambering up on the counter--all the while yammering on.

"Mom, I is a cookin' chef for AWANA because I cimb up here to see because I yook in the mirror..."

"Why don't you get a stool?" I asked. (Why must moms always try to be so practical?)

"No, I just climb," he replied matter-of-factly, and indeed, he was already sitting atop the vanity, perched at the edge of the sink. He admired his ensemble in the mirror, not even glancing in my direction.

"... because you're a monkey?" I smiled, knowing the humour would be totally lost on him.

"No, my feet are a boy."

"Just your feet? The rest of you is a monkey?"

"Yep."

... this guy:



... who just turned 7!

This morning, Jason took Jabin with him to town to get his tires changed, which is kind of a big deal to the little guy. It's a big pain in the bum to transfer the carseat over to the truck, so usually, it's one of the bigger boys (who have graduated to the easy-to-move booster seats) that get to go with Daddy. Jabin was so excited to go in the truck with Daddy! They went and had a snack at Tim Horton's, went to the garage, went to the gun shop... you know, "boy stuff." :-)

Jason said that by 11:00, though, Jabin was saying he wanted to go home and see Jude and Noah and Mommy. "'Cause I like them, and I love them." Awww...

Watch this. Seriously.

If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things.
- Rene Descartes

My dad taught me that.

As tough as it is to doubt sometimes, knowing that it's a necessary part of the process makes it easier to take... and also reminds me that there is light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how dry the desert, somewhere there's an oasis.

And that oasis is amazing.

This has been a pitiful scrapbooking year for me. Yes, I know I have a legitimate excuse, but honestly, even though I have had my supplies available, and time I could have spent doing it, I have mostly been sewing during my "hobby time" this year. Therefore, I am pitifully behind on Project 365, having only recently completed Week 12.

However, I'm starting to feel a bit "scrappy" again (don't worry, Honey, I won't take it out on you!), so today I spent a few hours downloading the newest free stuff from shabbyprincess.com and designerdigitals.com. Then, I just made this layout from the one of the gorgeous kits that the Princess had to offer.



Now, I just have to decide whether to be foolish and stay up for the extra hour afforded by the time change tonight, or go get a good night's sleep. Hmmm... Maybe I could get Week 13 done...

Last night, Jason and I watched the Queen Latifah movie "Last Holiday." I loved it. It was fun, it was uplifting, and it had a good message to live every day to the fullest. Plus, it had this really great quotable in it:

Chef Didier: You and me, we know the secret to life.

Georgia Byrd: (looking surprised) Yeah? And what's that?

Chef Didier: Butter!

Jabin pulled over the antique white metal stool to within a foot of the stove top and climbed up on it.

"I'm going to watch you make the food," he said, settling his rump down and swinging his legs.

"Okay," I said, then continued chopping tomatoes for tonight's pasta salad.

"I'm going to sit wight heah," he pointed out.

"Alright." My eyes stayed on the sharp knife and Romas.

Suddenly, I heard a pretty significant belch erupt from his little mouth. I glanced at him as he broke into a fit of hilarity (as little boys do at that sort of thing.)

"My mouf fahted!" he exclaimed.

My friend Aakanksha posted this to Facebook today. I laughed the whole time. This kid definitely has comedic talent--I'm expecting to see him in television in about five to ten years!

The video is about five minutes long. Don't watch this while your boss is around, because (s)he will definitely know you're not working!

I think I'll take my chances with the pigs and the immune system the good Lord has blessed me with.

• Blog like a madwoman for a few days.
• Begin reading Jane Austen's Emma. Neglect blog shamefully for duration.
• Get so congested that I cannot sleep. Watch Pride & Prejudice at weird hours while waiting for sinuses to clear.
  
• Try to teach school on four hours sleep the next day.
  
• Break my strict "no-forwarding" rule by sending out nonsensical e-mails with some iffy anecdotal evidence about how to prevent illness to almost everyone on my e-mail list. I'm blaming the lack of sleep. Sorry if you were one of the "lucky" ones.
• Dig up potatoes and pluck rosehips for jelly in a snowstorm. Makes sense, doesn't it?
• Forget words frequently, thanks to sleep-deprivation.
• Have a hallelujah breakdown when the sinus congestion finally passes. Now, instead of keeping my husband awake with a snorky nose all night, it can just be incessant coughing.
  
• Oo! I remembered that peppermint oil on the tongue stops coughing! Yippee! We get to sleep at last!
• Think fondly of last October, when we were in a much warmer, milder, less cold-prone climate.
• Suck it up.
• Finally get over the worst of it, only to discover that the bug has been passed on to one of my children. Spend week at home nursing child to health.

I think the main bugs have been exterminated. Hopefully, we will be better prepared next time!

I am finally emerging from under the dark cloud of the cold that was plaguing me for most of last week. I have a peculiarity in that I cannot fall asleep if I can't breathe through my nose, so last week was not a good sleep week. However, I am finally getting over it--and yesterday, Noah came down with it. The poor kid did not stir from the couch from 9 a.m. until supper time. As a mom, I was a little desperate to get some nutrition into him (he hadn't eaten anything all day, and had barely had anything to drink) so I made this soup for supper. It was delicious! Another one for the cookbook--and for you.

Enjoy!

Fall Bounty Yam and Apple Soup
Makes about 10 cups

2 tbsp. butter
2 tbsp. olive oil
2 med. onions, peeled and chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
3-4 apples washed, cored and chopped (may be peeled, if desired)
1 lg. yam, peeled and cubed (about 4-5 cups)
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. thyme
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. ground or cracked coriander seed
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
6 c. homemade chicken or turkey stock
2 tsp. salt
cracked black pepper, to taste
sour cream or plain yogurt for garnish

Melt butter and olive oil in large pot; sauté onions and garlic until onions wilt. Add apples, yams and spices and sauté until apples begin to get soft, a couple of minutes. Add chicken stock and salt; cover and cook over medium-low heat until yams are cooked through (about fifteen minutes). Turn off heat and blend, either in pot with hand-held blender or by running through blender in batches. Adjust seasonings and serve with a dollop of sour cream in each bowl.

Would be a wonderful starter to a larger meal, as well.

(Noah managed to get a half a scoop down last night, and after a good night's sleep, seems to be on the mend today.)

"Mommy, I was going to colour, but no..."

"Mommy, I wanted to give you a hug, but no... "

"Daddy, I'm not tired. No, no, no. Not even a sninch!"

While I was putting him to bed:
"Mommy, Be great!"

While Jason was putting him to bed:
"Daddy, you behave!"

Honestly, this kid says stuff that makes us laugh out loud every day, but I don't remember half of it when it comes time to type it out.

I predict he'll either be a politician, a preacher or a salesman...

In 1998, my paternal grandmother was killed in a car accident. She and my grandfather had been married for 54 years. They were both the children of homesteaders, and quickly followed in their parents' footsteps by homesteading their own parcel of land. The house they built there, as money allowed, is the house where they raised their nine children, and the house they lived in until the days they both died.

After Grandma's death, Grandpa spent almost two years proving to the world that he was no good as a bachelor before re-marrying to another very capable woman--a widow from Iowa. He and Virginia were actually married very shortly after Jason and myself. (How weird is it to be getting married the same year as your grandfather?) They enjoyed over five years together in amiable companionship before Grandpa also died of a heart attack. Virginia still lives in her own home in Iowa, and the kids and I were fortunate to get to see her last fall on our way south to Arkansas.

The very year Grandpa died, I found out some things about him that I never knew before. In fact, when I later told my dad that Grandpa had at one point wanted to be a professional cabinet-maker, even Dad was surprised. I was so sad that he died before I got to know him better as a man, not just as my Grandpa. I mourn even more for the years I lost with my Grandma Hilman--even though, as the oldest grandchild, I certainly got more time to get to know her than any of my cousins.

As I sat out in the snow this afternoon, bundled up in my winter clothes and finally digging up my potatoes from the frozen ground--on Thanksgiving day, which is generally considered a little too late in this part of the world for gardening!--I wished I could have been able to consult with my Grandma, or at least compare notes, now that I am homesteading my own place. She would have known better than to leave her garden in the ground until the second week of October. Granted, winter is not usually here by then, but there is always the odd year--and this year has been very odd. She would probably have some great stories about the first few years on the farm, before the farmhouse was built, and when it was just the two of them plus one or two little boys.

It makes me wonder how much wisdom has been lost in the last century about how to really live on this earth--how many children have grown up from the twentieth and into the twenty-first centuries without knowing the wonderful things that their grandparents could have taught them? How much are we having to re-learn, not at our grandparents' knees, but through trial and error or electronically via the internet? Thank goodness that someone took time to learn from their family's previous generations, so that humanity as a whole could benefit!

I would not wallow in misery for what is no longer retrievable, though. These thoughts made me grateful for the wisdom that is still available to me--both of my maternal grandparents are still living (and from good farming stock, too). My father and mother both have farming backgrounds, and knowledge about many, many other subjects, besides. I have numerous (and I do mean NUMEROUS!) uncles and aunts that know pieces of Grandpa and Grandma Hilman's stories--pieces that could be fitted together to make an interesting picture of their lives, even if necessarily incomplete. Their legacy is not dead--it lives on in us, their family.

I have the world's best husband, three adorable kids, and a roof over my head. There is food in my fridge and friends close by. In this twenty-first century, with uncertain economic times, a changing climate, and predictions of doom and gloom all around, there is still so much to be thankful for.

One of the best parts of the legacy that my grandparents left was faith--the kind of faith that gets you through fifty-four years of marriage, many hard times, and many good ones. The kind of faith that reminds you through all of it that at the end of the Book, the Good Guy wins.

So why not be thankful? After all, it's all going to be okay.

"Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." I Thessalonians 5:17, 18 (NIV)

I have a bathroom fetish. Meaning, that if you were to phone me and tell me that you were coming over in ten minutes, and my hair was messy and I had no make-up on and my house was a disaster, I'd spend that ten minutes cleaning my bathroom. (I'd probably also brush my hair, but to heck with make-up!)

So, I realize that a bathroom might be a strange place to some to begin a home tour, but to me, it is completely reasonable. Not to mention, my bathroom is the most "done" right now, although there are still some things I have on the "project list" for in there.

Bienvenue à la toilette!

1. Snow is falling outside.
2. My potatoes are still in the garden.
3. Jason and the kids are playing Mariocart Wii. Earlier, we were all checking out the new game Jason got for his birthday--Big Brain Academy.
4. I woke up with a sore throat. I have just been too darn busy, 24/6 (I take Saturdays off, usually) for the last few weeks, and it is catching up to me. Last week, I just taught school and slept, it felt like.
   
5. Yesterday, I changed out the fall jackets and footwear for the winter stuff.
6. Our living room and master bedroom stand as the biggest obstacles resisting organization at the moment.
7. I started knitting a new scarf/hat/mitt set for Jude today, out of some green "camo"-coloured yarn that he picked.
8. Jason got the plywood all up on the skirting on Thursday night, now just needs to get it insulated when the insulation comes in on Tuesday. It's made a difference already, but the temperatures outside keep going down, so really it's stayed about the same in here.
9. Jude lost his first tooth last Monday. His new one came up behind it and pushed it out. So, he is late to start losing his teeth, like his dad, and his first tooth got pushed out by the adult tooth behind it, like his mom.
10. Perhaps its the weather, but I've been feeling really nostalgic for Mena for the last few weeks. Last night, I had a dream and got to see some of my friends that I rarely see while I am awake, from various places in the world, and at different times in my life.
    
    I love making new friends. I just hate leaving them behind. If I keep leaving pieces of my heart everywhere, will there eventually be none left? Or does it just keep getting bigger?

I miss you, my friends all around the world...

View from my front window right now:


Somewhere, deep down, I knew that the Indian Summer* wouldn't last forever. I was just in denial. Today, I get to break out the winter coats, I guess.

I'm just thankful that for once, we have got to enjoy a gloriously-painted fall landscape for a while, before a vicious wind has come up and blown all the leaves off. (There have been years where the leaves have started to turn, and less than a week later they are all on the ground.)

I know you guys haven't been able to hear me rant for a while (you missed it, right?), so here's a peeve that I'm putting out to the world in general. Taylor Swift has a song called "Cold As You". Now, I admire Taylor as a songwriter and singer, especially since she was in her early-to-mid-teens when she wrote this. There are some clever turns of phrase in this song, which appeals to the "word nut" in me. (When I write/listen to a song, I love it when I can find something really clever.) BUT! The poor grammar in the title phrase at the end of the chorus drives me NUTS every time I listen to it! AS cold as you! That's what it should be!!

I know. I just need to get over it. (Really, you don't need to tell me. But I'm still ranting, just for today.)

Happy Tuesday, friends!

*Why is it called that, anyway?!!

Jude had been making noises about having a mohawk for a while, probably due to the fact that his friend Elijah Gregory has been sporting one (even though I have never seen him style it.) So, the last time Jason cut Jude's hair, he agreed. Jude thinks its pretty cool, especially when he styles it all up with the blue hair glue that we have been trying to use up for years. (I bought it when he and Noah were small, just so I could have something fun to do with their hair. I think I was feeling a little miffed that my friends got to put cute bows and such in their girls' hair, whereas a boy's hair is always pretty much the same.)


Last Sunday, when Jason styled it, he was hinting that it may be getting a bit too long to make it look right already, so it's probably going to get shaved off soon.

I'm not that upset about it being gone, because although Jude hits "total meltdown mode" a lot less than he used to, when he does, all I can see is that punk hairdo. It reminds me that he is now closer to teenager-hood than baby-hood, and I only have another fourteen or so years of this to look forward to. I'm ready to "lose" the punk for while--the rebellious teens will be coming soon enough!

I am going to try and keep this as succinct as possible, but considering the amount of time I have let lapse, and the amount of things that have happened in it, I'm not sure if I will achieve my goal!

We moved over to our trailer around the second week of August. Or, should I say, "we began to move." Moving is still an ongoing process. We had no water, heat, power, or septic at that point, but decided that since it was summer time, it would be fun to start "camping" here while we did some preliminaries, such as getting the kitchen, living room and bathroom painted, starting on the trailer skirting, and while I started unpacking my kitchen. Nearly all of my "kitchen" was in boxes in the SeaCan, and I secretly cursed the way things worked out as far as the placement of things in our yard. The SeaCan is only about 200 yards away from the house, but by the time I had lugged box after heavy box of kitchen items (amazing how much stuff you can hide in cupboards, isn't it?) across the dry, drought-parched grass, it felt more like a mile. But! I did notice a reciprocating benefit in my biceps and waistline! YAY!

We got our septic put in before we even had power, and the power finally got hooked up at the end of August. Foolishly, we thought we would immediately begin to have access to water, since our well has been dug for over a year. Alas, things couldn't be so easy--it wouldn't build nearly enough character, would it? Within two days of having power, we had internet. We got our gas on September the 9th. It was supposed to be in on the eighth, and the poor young fellow who was helping to dig it accidentally cut our power line with the trencher. Fortunately, he was able to find an electrician to come fix it that night, so we were only without power for a few hours.

The morning of the ninth, the temperature in our bedroom was only 12 degrees C (54 degrees F)! I was very grateful when the guy from the gas company showed up that afternoon to finish hooking up the gas! That night, an electrician-friend came by and fixed the problem with our wiring in about 10 minutes, and we had water, too!

Well, until the next morning. After a rainy night, I was amazed to hear that it was still pouring outside when I woke up the next morning. Then I went into the bathroom and realized the water was not pouring on us from above, but gushing from beneath. A hose had popped off the water tank in the night and was pouring gallons of water everywhere. Sigh... Yet another adventure.

You know, we all want more adventure in our lives, don't we? Okay, maybe not all of us, but there have definitely been points in my life where I have craved more adventure than I had been having. That is probably the part of me that lets me move across and continent and back, and that makes me game to pioneer a new property while raising three boys and home schooling. But then there's another small part of me, that just cries a little when something else happens on the adventure, and kind of whimpers, "But wouldn't it be nice if we could just take a day off from adventure? Just one? Or maybe even two? Please?"

Well, we actually got the hose fixed that day, too, so as of September 10, we have had all of our utilities. Well, except the land line phone, for which the waiting list is about a year. Unfortunately, cell phone reception is poor--the best connection is outside of our tin can of a home, but that could get interesting come January!

Meanwhile, and since then, we have been slowly moving things over from Magnussons and in from the SeaCan, and every new load must be sorted and organized and a new niche found for it. Some of it has been sitting in our way for weeks, because I simply haven't had time to deal with it since beginning school two weeks ago.

Had we known, when we were packing our 3000 sq. ft. home, that we would be unpacking it into a 900 sq. ft. one, we might have packed it differently. Then again, there were a lot of things we couldn't foresee then, weren't there? The boxes have been rearranged and moved and rearranged again so many times since then, it's no wonder I don't know where my roaster is! (By the way, I ended up borrowing Amanda's to roast the turkey. Thanks, friend!) Our small dining room is also our school room and craft room. The living room has a third of it "divided off" behind the futon, where we have a small computer desk, a shelf, two filing cabinets, and our school supplies. This makes for some pretty cramped quarters! The piano keyboard is going to be set up in the master bedroom, as soon as I can clear enough room along the wall.

We have been giving things away, getting creative with storage solutions, and down-sizing what we think we "need" as far as stuff and personal space. We were originally hoping to build an addition this fall, but that is looking unlikely, since the utilities ate up more of our small development mortgage than we thought it would--thus, we need to get used to things the way they are.

The adventure continues...

I have a turkey all thawed out and ready to roast for supper tonight.

And I just realized I haven't found my roasting pan yet.

I love moving. It's awesome.

So, while I'm photocopying sheets for school, I sit and watch videos on tangle.com. How à propos that I should find this hilarious spoof on home schooling, posted by Tim Hawkins!



Happy 1st-day-of-school-this-week!

Lots of stuff has happened. Too much to write about. In fact, it's still happening at a volume that is probably going to forestall a real blog post for at least another week. However, I saw this today, and thought about how many people (myself included) tend to forget the simple truths here. If you have 9 minutes, you might want to watch this.

I miss you guys.

In Winters' house the chaos grows
amidst the boxes in tumultuous rows
That fill our space; and in the hall
the kids are banging on the wall
Scarce noticed by the cats below.
We are the moving; scarce weeks ago
We had power, and heat, and water's flow.
But now we shiver on rainy nights
In Winters' House.

Take comfort in these things, you know:
That though we're running to and fro
Like chickens unaware they've died,
If you listen close as it rains outside,
You might hear from us still, though chaos grows
In Winters' House.

(It's safest, if one is going to plagiarize, to choose an author that has been dead for nearly a century.)

This morning, Noah was getting ready to go outside for his first "pee break" of the day (we are still having problems getting our well working) after a particularly windy, rainy night. The rain had abated, but it was still fairly breezy. (Thankfully, not too cold, though.)

"Would you like your coat, Noah?" Jason asked.

"Yep," said Noah, "'cause God's blowin' on me!"

I have been spending most of my time at the trailer lately--we have even slept there almost every night this week. Sure, there's no running water, no power, and it was only yesterday that we started to be able to put gray water down our sink to the septic tank--but that's part of the fun! It's summer! Why not live a little?

I've been busy cleaning, painting, and unpacking. Jason has been working on getting the skirting put on the trailer, and bucking up firewood for the wood stove we will be putting in the addition. Most of our clothes, etc., are still at Magnusson's, as well as our beds, but hopefully we will get most of our stuff moved this weekend.

So, a few photos, for those of you who have been asking: