Bud in the Mud

"Regal Riddle."

Does that mean anything to you? Spark any memory? Maybe shake up some old Hebrew vocab that's bouncing around in your brain somewhere?

Feel free to take a moment to remember the muddy tracks up and down our driveway, if you like, here.

At the time, I mourned I didn't have a photo of Bud in the mud.

Heh heh. That rhymes.

Tonight, we had dinner down with Allison in her family, in their HOUSE, and it was wonderful to be there. Also, she sent us the picture she DID take of Bud in the Mud, with her phone, before bringing him up to our house.

Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:


J's question tonight: "What would make someone SEE the mud, and think, "Hey! I want to go get in that!" ?"

That was a good day for Bud.

Reason #5100

I am overwhelmed with God's goodness.
And am feeling much better.
And am reflecting on Reason # 5,100.

We came home from church on Sunday in two different cars (someone had returned a borrowed vehicle to us). I left earlier to bring home a miserable Pixie. Ibuprofen delivered and her bundled to bed, I threw on rice and prepped asparagus to go with it. We had invited folks home for lunch, and there was yummy beef in the crock pot.

My throat had been hurting though, and I discovered during the prep that I had a low fever; I crawled into bed and neither Pixie nor I joined J, our boys and our guest at lunch.

While I was asleep, J got the email requesting ALL of his mid-tenure Review paperwork ONE WEEK from Monday. ONE WEEK! Shocking (to us, anyway). He had heard it would be by March 11, maybe earlier. February 1? With one week's warning?

I won't even tell you about all of the essays, references, and other paperwork involved. If J didn't have a good start on it (which he does), it would be impossible. As it is, it would be a significant...shift in our potentially planned time allocation over the next 8 days. J and I have a very tightly-bound-up schedule. I was frustrated for him. And I was frustrated for me, too.

And then, the Wheels Fell Off the Wagon!! (Sing it with me!)

I did not know WHAT was going on. Overnight my throat got worse. And my muscles and bones felt like I'd been kicked around a while. Pixie was in a lot of pain, crying and not sleeping through much of the night. I tried to comfort her, although my fever was now over 103 and I wasn't seeing straight. (I didn't get him up to help with Pixie, by the way, as he was up with her SATURDAY night). Finally at 2:30am I told her she could read if it distracted her from the pain, which she did until 5, when she could have more Tylenol. I will not go into all of the grossness involved. In fact, I can skip anything about me until Tuesday, when I really got out of bed and onto the couch. I am trying to give you a picture of what J saw when he got up the next morning...Monday...his no-classes, I'm going to really-get-a-lot-done-day...His countdown-to-review-papers day 1, besides a usually busy and productive-type day.


He saw a Perfect Storm pursuing his must-be-disciplined week.

And what did he do?

He sent me back to bed. He brought me the second handset to our new cordless phones, and taught me how to use it as an intercom to call him in the front of the house...and he turned the ringer off so I wouldn't be disturbed. He called me out sick from my Spanish classes. He canceled a meeting I had. He took Pixie to the doctor....and took Bud and Wombles with him. He brought me Gatorade. And ice chips. And his laptop, already cued up on Netflix to a BBC series he thought I'd like. I cried about how I was sorry, and he acted like it was no big deal. He canceled his meeting with his faculty mentor about the review process. He canceled his office hours. He went to the pharmacy with three children and got a prescription for Pixie's antibiotics filled...and one for me, too. I told the pediatrician on the phone that when he walked in with that for me, I was so happy I cried (we thought I had the flu). I don't even know what else he did because I was absent, but I know our children were fed, clothed, and put to bed at appropriate times. I know that he never complained or even let me know he was stressed. If I had been in my head I would have thought that a little kooky, but I wasn't and was just so grateful to wallow without the guilt.

Tuesday, he was ready to cancel all of his classes and another important meeting. We decided to try him going in--it would depend a lot on what the three kiddoes did--so he took the cell phone in his pocket to teach. (Mercifully, the kids were engaged with the new movies my friend brought, and I didn't really have to get off of the couch all day.) He came home and made supper.

This morning, I found a line of Psalm 15 running through my head--memorized long ago in the King James--"He sweareth to his own hurt and changeth not." My still-slow brain clambered around, thinking, What did J swear? Oh, Riiight. In sickness and in health. I am so grateful, and a little in awe, actually, of J these past three days. Part of it is the sickness thing, although we talked about that tonight and acknowledged that there's likely worse to come at some point. But the fearless change--or maybe revealing-- of priorities quite takes my breath away. The change was in direction, at last minute, which I am so terrible at doing. What a gift to get to see it done so well. I hope I can learn.

Love, Love, Love you, J. Thank you.



And here's Psalm 15, in more modern language (ESV):

15:1 O Lord, who shall sojourn in your tent?
Who shall dwell on your holy hill?

2 He who walks blamelessly and does what is right
and speaks truth in his heart;
3 who does not slander with his tongue
and does no evil to his neighbor,
nor takes up a reproach against his friend;
4 in whose eyes a vile person is despised,
but who honors those who fear the Lord;
who swears to his own hurt and does not change;
5 who does not put out his money at interest
and does not take a bribe against the innocent.
He who does these things shall never be moved.

Sick

Pixie and I came down with strep throat this weekend. After spending about 40 hours in bed, I've gotten up (J has 6 hours of teaching today). A friend just dropped off some videos the kids haven't seen yet, and will return later with ginger ale and popsicles. I hope we all make it until J gets home! He is carrying the cell phone in his pocket, just in case. He took the whole day off yesterday, took all three kids to the doctor's office with him, and was an amazing example of uncomplaining, sacrificial love.

It's REALLY bad timing, work-wise, for him to have to take off. More later.

OK, I've been vertical too long. Off for another video!

A package from home

Today, in the midst of (yet another) wet and stormy day, a package arrived at our doorstop.

It was there waiting for us when we got home.

It was addressed to everyone from DD and Nona. Since it was to everyone, Pixie suggested that we wait until Dad got home to open it. Splendid idea!

My mom made aprons for ALL FIVE OF US...plus Pixie's doll ("Molly").

As it happened, Pixie had picked up a new doll at Target today ("Emily") and wanted that doll to be the wearer of the apron instead.

It was really cute to watch her go through the line with her five-dollar bill and buy a doll and a little secret-code notebook and key.

While I was uploading that first picture, Pixie came in (it's almost her lights-out time) and asked me to babysit Emily while she went to the bathroom. I took the opportunity to take a picture of the wee lassie.


She's wearing the apron again, as was Pixie.

You rock, Nona!

A Day at the Farm--postscript

Wombles is having a rough morning. He has thrown up twice. Poor Wombles! In the spirit of "Poor Wombles", I will relate his incident from the farm. And hope that "we" (meaning I) can survive Day 5 of inside play. Aaaaggggghhh!

As we were wrapping up our time at the farm, we had another round of hayrides. J, the boys and I rode around while Pixie and Nona gathered pecans and then lay in wait for us --a pecan ambush!

On the wagon we noticed a large, unusual bug. J took it off at the end of the ride to photograph it on the picnic table. When he left to go put away the wagon with DD, Nona and I were tidying and Wombles started playing with the bug. I guess he picked him up, then put him back down. At this point my mom saw Wombles recoil as if struck; we all heard him start screaming. I grabbed him but he was inconsolable. His eye was very red...from crying? There was a funny smell. We rushed him to the water spigot. About that time he was able to come out with "...that bug...put water in my EEYYEEEE!"

We stripped him to the waist and gave him an eye wash (he LOVED that) before dressing him again. His eye was puffy. It was probably around 40 degrees. He started talking about "that bad bug squirt me" (I'm sure he deserved it). Nona squished the bug. DD contacted someone at a UGA center who identified it. A little web research revealed that a cousin of this bug (if not this variety) was found to spit a substance that was corrosive to plastic...

Poor Wombles!

Home for Christmas V --A day at the farm

It IS a farm. Pine trees are a crop.

Now that we have that out of the way, I can share the story of the day and use the word "farm" as much as I like. Its proper name (I think) is "Dry Creek Farm" which was a great name when my parents bought the farm after years of drought in Georgia.

The week we were visiting, not so much. But it was really fun to see ducks down at Babyface "meadow."

Mom and Dad had planned a big family jamboree at the farm on Saturday, with my cousins and their kids and more extended family in a great big hot-dog-hay-ride fest. It was not to be, as it was just too wet. It rained and rained while we were there!

We went on Monday, a much smaller party (the jamboree was at my parents' house instead, on Saturday). It was lovely, bright...and cold. Yes, I am utterly spoiled. Unfortunately, that morsel of self-awareness won't warm a girl's blood.

Here are two shots showing the difference between my "Indiana baby" (who prides herself on being impervious to cold) and Bud, who takes after me in this category:




You can see how I was handling the cold...My favorite warmy scarf, my dad's coat, and a ballcap. Although we had checked the forecast, I couldn't bring myself to believe it would stay as cold as it did for the entire two weeks...so I ended up wearing the same three long-sleeved shirts over and over again.



By the way, how cool are the teepees that Nona and DD built for Pixie, Bud and Wombles??



Since the last time we we visited, my parents had some roads cut at the farm to make getting around easier. And Dad had a new mule to take us down to Babyface pond meadow. Whee!


Wombles preferred the more old-fashioned method. Less wind chill factor.


Another fall project for DD and Nona had been restoring an old peanut wagon. They took the rusty old thing and spiffed it up with new wood and a fresh coat of bright red paint. We had a great time riding on bales of hay; it was definitely a highlight of the day! See us huddled together for warmth?



(I would like to take this moment to assert that I had fun even though I was cold, and no one else acted as cold as I felt. Some might say I'm exaggerating, but I would like to make it clear that I'm just a superwimp when it comes to temperatures below 65).

It was wonderful for J to get to have some time outside. In spite of his east-coast-boarding-school-academia-ph.D-earnin' self, he's a country boy at heart, and a woodsman. He brought twine for the express purpose of crafting a bow and arrows for Pixie and Bud:


And he dearly wished to build a fire and roast hot dogs over it, after carving roasting sticks (such as this one, which held three at a time). In spite of this, I did everything within my power to see us have hot take-out lunch from Rick's BBQ instead. (He had never had Rick's! It is soooo good! and warm.) That wasn't meant to be, though, and it turned out for the best.


We had a wonderful day!

Since we got home

While I am not yet finished with my "Home for Christmas" series--there is still at LEAST a trip to the farm and "that bug"--life here goes on. And while I'm thinking I might fall asleep tonight before Pixie does (she's having her reading time before lights-out), I thought I'd share our latest big blessing. And those of you who were with us at Christmas may remember how we had a hard time deciding on this one. HA!

BEFORE:


AFTER:
They started moving a lot of dirt before we even got home from our Christmas trip. When we left, we didn't know that this marvelous work was going to happen. The "before" shots are of how the yard looked when we moved in (the photos are 2 years old); we had added a little patio/terrace-y area, and reduced the "raised bed" and done some other things. It was hard to let those things go in order to let someone wreak havoc our yard...but we are so glad we did.

BEFORE:



AFTER:

Doesn't it look tidy?

BEFORE:
AFTER:

I love tidy.

The crew even dug up our roses, artichokes, and more before they got started. I can't wait to re-plant them!

I found times when I was mesmerized by the digger working. The crew really were craftsmen...hand shaping stones to fit together in the walls. We heard this: that before anyone on the crew is allowed to work the digger on a job, they have to use it to pick up a JAR and put it into a trash can. After watching them work, I BELIEVE IT.

We decided to pay for soil improvement while everything was torn up. The contractor mentioned that another one of his client's jobs had leftover sod, and they were having to pay him to keep it alive and would probably be glad to offload it. We had not planned to put in sod this early (read: before mid-tenure review) but the windfall combined with the idea of three children + endless quantities of mud changed our minds. WOW!

Looking for the "before" shots has been a reminder of how much was lost in the fire. Trees I forgot existed; the way there were mounds of honeysuckle. The views have all changed: without so many trees, it hardly seems the same space.

BEFORE:
AFTER:



Other improvements are underway. Our garage is insulated, for example. The folks who are coming to prep the roof & rails for our solar power system will be back in the morning. They showed up today on the dot on time for naps, and said, "We're here to prep your roof and make a lot of noise!" (Big grin). I had Wombles on my hip. "Seriously? Is it loud?" Poor guy. Of course it's loud to rip out roof vents and hammer plywood and rip shingles, etc. "One o'clock is naptime here..." So nice! They'll be back in the morning. We're actually getting a screen door on the front, too. Among other things. Among so many, many other things. So many blessings.

Um, I should mention that the playset was a gift, too.

I think the reason I rehearse all of these things is that we are not paying for any of this (except the soil improvement and putting grass in). Our HOA insurance money from the fire is covering it. These kinds of improvements are happening all over the NEIGHBORHOOD (we're all getting solar, too). I feel like we spent a year trying to claw our way (collectively, as a community) back to some form of normal. Since then, the upward trajectory has just continued.

It may seem like a stretch of a connection to make, but I walk around and am reminded of the redemption of all things, of the world, through Christ Jesus. And am reminded that I'm not just looking forward to another Eden...but to something so much better. I didn't have the vision for anything better than what we had lost when this was what we were looking at:



But Someone did. And if my yard can be redeemed in this superabundant way, in this short time, there is surely hope for the world and for my soul.

Interlude

Today was my Paw Paw's birthday. I try to always call Mimi, and today with work and the time difference it didn't happen. Paw Paw has been gone for 24 years, and had the kind of vivid personality that is unforgettable. I can still hear his laugh. I still miss him, especially this past Christmas at home.



I still miss my Pa, too. Christmas Eve just isn't the same, but it's great to think of him celebrating a perpetual Christmas, Easter, Epiphany and everything else in the light of Jesus. And I'm sure he's not coughing.




They both loved me very much, and I love them. That's all.

Home for Christmas - IV

So many stories, so little time...

Up next: The Christmas Pageant 2009.

We are working on a tradition of acting out the Christmas story from Luke (with a bit of Matthew) every year --either on Christmas eve or Christmas morning. This year we put it off until Christmas night when K and Natalia were to arrive.

We love doing presents, but don't want what--who, rather--we're celebrating to literally get lost in the wrapping paper. I really appreciate my family's willingness to participate in our efforts to ground Christmas in Christ.

One thing I love about my family is that if they are in, they are usually ALL-in. After I had written the parts on slips of paper and everyone had drawn, my mom and the other wise men disappeared into her room for costuming. J read. Whenever we came to a point where there was an appropriate Christmas carol, we sang: "Away in a Manger, " followed by "Angels We Have Heard on High," and "We Three Kings." I think that "Silent Night" was in there somewhere. Here are a few highlights:

I drew the donkey, so Mary (Pixie) rode on me to Bethlehem. My brother D was cast as Joseph.


Auntie M was a sheep (and a fabulous sheep she was), and Auntie N was the other shepherd (my second part, after the donkey). I'm really not sure how my fur jacket from when I was 8 was appropriate shepherdwear...but you never can tell what might come out of the cedar closet. It was GREAT (and N. and I postponed the argument about whose jacket it is, seeing as how she wore it but probably wasn't born when I received it).


Uncle K and Bud were the angels....fearsome and bold.


We shepherds were afraid,


and sang Gloria with them. Glory to God in the highest!

Mary stored up these things, pondering them in her heart.



Herod (and all Jerusalem) were troubled by these things, even as the star shone brightly.

(This year, as my Bible study is wrestling through Matthew, I've wondered why all of Jerusalem didn't run to Bethlehem).



The wise men offered their gifts to the newborn king. Not to Herod, who may have found this lack of gift-giving a little offensive. Or a lot.



During this season of Epiphany, I hope that you, too, will know and be drawn to the light of Christ the King.

Home for Christmas -- Part III

To quote something I think my sister would say (is that possible?), this post is O. Ver. Due.

I am having a roller coaster of re-entry to life in SB, and trying to gather my wits before the train of real-life/real schedule leaves the station Monday morning...

Homeschool starts up again in earnest, and I want to be prepared. I'm excited about what we're doing.

Spanish started up already, which was earlier than I had been thinking.

Our yard has had heavy machinery in it and has been completely overhauled since we got home. It's beautiful and unrecognizable and they aren't finished yet.

We emptied out most of the garage in order to have the ceiling insulated. A wonderful gift we're not paying for, and large quantities of time taking care of it (I use the term "we loosely here).

I've signed the contract for the solar power we'll be getting in the next few weeks.

We did a quick switcharound on the kids' epiphany present after the item we'd planned to give sold out and was on a 6-week delay. Flurry of discussions and research and last-minute decisions...but it all came together and we're all very pleased.

Besides coordinating the children's program at our women's Bible study, I am taking on the teaching for the adults for five sessions this Spring. The first is the 19th, which means I need some questions by Tuesday. Heh. Heh.

I love what I'm doing and feel overwhelmed!

And I am so happy to have fun memories of relaxed play with people I love back in Georgia:


I love this shot of D getting crazy in cutthroat. M is obviously unfazed by his shenanigans, and K and J with their unselfconscious twin pose make this one of my favorite "tableau" shots. No one knew I was taking a picture.

Mom (aka Nona) gave Natalia a very braidy hair-do.

Natalia explained to me how to get the look I wanted. Since, I've discovered that having greasy hair really is the answer. Ha!


I don't know what the joke was, but D is formulating a comeback. You can tell.



And me? I was losing miserably at cutthroat and striking a pose in my new, zazzley T-shirt that J designed for me. Can you read it?

I also had never heard of the game "Cutthroat" before, and am so proud of myself (feeling all pool-sharky) that I have used it whenever possible.

Home for Christmas - Part II

One of the fun things about our time in Georgia was how the kids made DD and Nona's house their own. And I'm not talking about merely cosmetic changes, such as leaving toys and other ...treasures... strewn over and under everything in the house. I'm talking about conceptual changes. For example, one room in my parents' house has been "the new den" ever since my parents enclosed the carport back in 1995. "Where are my shoes?" --"I saw them in thenewden."

At some point on this trip, our children decided it should be called the "playroom." So that's what they called it. And to be sure, much playing was done there.

There was musical play (and I mean more than just Country and Western Singin' Elmo, which Wombles pushed around incessantly in a stroller).


There was sports play (honestly, DD and Nona? a tricycle inside the house? Antique or no, Bud cornered on it like he was driving a racecar...which he thought he was. Thank you for never telling him it was a decoration). But I was talking about Wombles, who ran around with Uncle J's old football helmet. I think if he had looked up at the sky, he would have fallen over backwards.

First and TEN! Do it AGAIN!

There was also roughhousing. I'd like to point out that this series of shots was taken very shortly before J and I left town on our aforementioned anniversary trip. What my parents must have been thinking! DD and the boys had been playing for a while before I got the camera. I love watching the clock over the door move through the progression of shots (I'm not posting all 47ish shots here...). The boys decided that the blue chair was "base," a concept not formerly known to Wombles but immediately adopted from Bud's usage.


From the blue chair they would taunt DD that he couldn't get them.


When he left, they would stage an ambush.

After much wrestling, piling on, and attempts to squash, they would roll off and be easy prey.

Back to the blue chair!

Repeat.

Comin' for you, DD!

Here's a picture of a good sport:


It was a room for grown-ups to play, too. More soon. It takes a while to get through all 1,031 photos from our trip.