Never thought I'd see the day

You can't say I haven't been warned. I know the dangers. Rachael Rossman is very clear about the havoc that can be wreaked by a studio cat. Hair on paintings. Colorful pawprints on paintings. Painting water used as a water dish.
But come on. Look at the cuteness. THE CUTENESS.
Mark still insists that this is a barn cat. But, honestly, I don't think even he completely believes it anymore. Every time I turn around, the kitten is in the house. More often than not, riding on Mark's shoulder as he goes about his day. I know. I don't believe it either. But, seriously, this is probably the single friendliest cat on planet earth. No one is immune to his charms.
And in the Cunningham family tradition, we seem unable to settle on one name. Here's the list so far.
Chumlee (from Pawn Stars)
Little Cat A (from The Cat In The Hat Comes Back)
Rootin' Tootin' Kitten Kabootin (from the Skippy Jon Jones books) This gets shortened to "Kabootin" or "Bootin")
Mousetrap Wellington III (from, well, my crazy family's overactive imagination)
So... I'll keep you posted on the transition from barn cat to studio cat, but I'm pretty sure that's what's gonna happen. It can't be helped.

Even Lego guys get the blues...

OH MY WORD... WILL IT EVER STOP RAINING???
Mason had a book about building Legos and one dreary, rainy day Max decided to make this little guy. He wanted me to tell you this, in case you somehow got the idea that I built this guy. I didn't. Happy, Max?

Chapter 24 In Which We Acquire Walter Wedgie, the Wonder Hedgie

Also officially known as Spike.

So here's the very sweet story of how a little boy named Max got his heart's desire.
Okay, first you must know that Max's heart's desire is a hedgehog. Apparently, there is no accounting for heart's desires.

Somehow, about 6 months ago, Max got it into his little head that more than anything else in life he wanted a hedgehog. A little random, but, okay. Whatever.

Here's the problem, though.

Hedgedhogs are quite trendy, and as you may know, the trendier something is, the more expensive it is likely to be. Hedgehogs are no exception.

If you google hedgehogs looking for a breeder or just someone who has one for sale, you're likely to find that a hedgehog is probably going to run you in the neighborhood of $250. I know. Yikes. And that's before you start purchasing the vast quantities of gear that a happy hedgehog needs and wants.

So we told Max, "Better start saving your money."

Those of you who are parents know that at this point Mark and I are thinking that Max is going to lose enthusiasm for hedgehogs WAY before he earns enough money for one.

So...

Max takes a shoe box and uses stickers to label it "Hedgie Fund" and puts in the $1.58 that he has saved. And then the $2 he earns for doing chores. And the $5 his grandpa pays him for washing his truck. And time goes by.

Occasionally, something at the store looks very tempting to Max, but with a little encouragement he manages to forego plastic toys, video games and trading cards. And time goes by.

Meanwhile, just out of curiosity, I'm keeping an eye on craigslist to see what's available as far as hedgehogs are concerned. They don't come up very often, but once in a while there is a hedgehog listed, always for a lot of money.

But one day, after I drop the kids at school, I pull up craigslist and search for hedgehogs and there is a listing for one. It doesn't name a price, just that the owner is very concerned with finding it a good home.

Now, at this point I know that Max has saved exactly $40. A huge amount for a 9 year old with cheap parents to sock away, but not even in the ballpark of what one might expect to pay for a hedgehog.

Still...

I figure it can't hurt to shoot this person an emamil explaining that I have this 9 year old, hedgehog-obsessed son, etc...

So I write a long letter telling the story of Max's quest, and explaining that he only has $40 but he's saved it all himself and that his dad and I would front him another $10 and if there's any way that she would consider taking $50 to please give me a call.

And I'm thinking, yeah right. That's the last I'll hear of that.

But, wonder of wonders, this young woman calls me and says that although her email box was jammed with responses from people wanting to buy her hedgehog, and although mine was nowhere near the first response she received, she read my letter and decided that Max absolutely HAD to have her hedgehog and she hadn't even contacted anybody else.

Let me tell you, there's nothing like telling your kid something that makes them so happy that they cry. I'll never forget telling Max the (intentionally drawn out) story of how I had found this ad on craigslist.

He just stood there with his eyes getting wider and wider and filling up with tears until I got to the end of the story. Then he whispered, "Does that mean I get the hedgehog?"

We drove down to Portland the next day to get Dexter (now, Spike) and Max brought in his "Hedgie Fund" box, and he just about cried, and the woman just about cried, and she told him that he should keep the coins that comprised part of his $50 because he would need a start for whatever he decided to save for next. She explained all about caring for a hedgie and then loaded us up with every imaginable thing that a hedgehog could need: cage, travel cage, playpen, wheel, bath stuff, blankets, food, even a book and a little decorative hedgehog figurine.

Spike is now happily integrated into our family. Max is a happy hedgehog owner and I am beyond grateful to a young woman in Portland who passed up maximum profit to fulfill the wish of a little boy she didn't even know.

And now, for all you yoga fans...

Downward dog.

Please be patient with me...

I am being a big brave dog and teaching myself how to customize this blog. Not having the most success just yet. So hang with me if things look a little whackadoodle for the next little bit. I think it will be really cool if I ever figure it out.

September 11

I knew the anniversary of the tragedies was coming, but I'm still amazed at how much like a punch in the stomach it felt like to turn on the radio this morning and hear people recount their experiences on that day. Of course everyone remembers where they were when they heard the news. I had gotten up at around 6:00 a.m. to nurse Max. He was not even a year old. I turned on the t.v. like I always did and tried to make sense of the footage on the news. At the time I put Max back to bed and went to wake Mark up, there had only been one plane. No one knew that the horror was just beginning. I told Mark about what had happened and went back to sleep. When I got back up and turned the t.v. on it seemed like the world was ending. Praise the Lord that Mason was only 2, and young enough to be completely shielded from what was going on. I took him to preschool and there was a note on the door instructing parents how to handle the day’s events with their small children. We didn't talk about it in front of the kids. At all. Adults couldn't process it, how could children? I am so thankful that even though my children were both alive on 9/11, the events of that day are no more than history that they have been told about as they've grown older, not something that they remember first hand. God bless the families. God bless the rescue workers. Let us remember how every heart cried out to God on that day. There was no indignation about national and world leaders praying. There was no screaming about separation of church and state on that day. Let us remember that our country needs God every day, not just on the worst day. May God bless you all on this September 11th.

"You did it! Congratulations! World's best cup of coffee! Great job everybody! It's great to be here." -Buddy "Elf"

(I woke up this morning totally rarin' to get back at this whole blogging thing, but by the time I spent, like, 2 hours reconfiguring everything, I had lost every creative impulse I had. So... here's a "Best of GBF" rerun. Enjoy. I'll be back tomorrow.)

My family pretty much lives at the soccer field year round. Here in Washington that means a whole lot of Saturdays out in the rain, damp, drizzle, shower or downpour. There is no possible way that that is going to happen on a regular basis without some form of hot, caffeinated beverage in my hand. My husband started developing a twitch whenever he saw me with one of those $4 cups of coffee, so I’ve had to figure out how to make a passable facsimile at home.
Step one: Get the way-cutest travel mug you can find. Some prefer the ones with the removable paper liner that you can use as a template for printing your own pictures. Excellent choice. As far as I’m concerned, though, I’ve already proven my devotion to the small people in my family, by even BEING THERE, standing in the freezing rain at 8:00 on a Saturday morning, so I feel no guilt what-so-ever at choosing a caffeine receptacle that is all about me.
As we know, all about me starts with pink, and if it sparkles, all the better. That said, I have found my own personal, perfect caffeine delivery system, seeing as how I can’t get anyone with medical training to hook me up with an IV.


Here it is! The official pink, sparkly Gilmore Girls travel coffee mug. Have we talked about Gilmore Girls yet? Oh, don’t worry. We will.
But, now, back on task girls! You probably have only moments until one of your sweet little offspring will be screaming like a banshee for a shin guard or a water bottle, and as important as those things are, we both know that they pale in comparison to legal, addictive stimulants for mom. So, I’ll wait while you find your own perfect mug, but hurry or the kids will have you hunting for who knows what again.
Okay, got it? Good. Now, before we can get to the fun part of carrying around our cute mugs looking extremely hip (for moms) we must first put something in the mugs. That would be step two. Follow your own bliss regarding the schmanciness of the bean. I like to buy whole beans, ‘cause it’s just as easy as buying the pre-ground stuff and they taste so much fresher, but I’ll pretty much buy whichever brand is on sale. Then, because I can think of 18 bajillion other things to spend money on, I try to keep the rest of it super-cheapo. I’m talkin’ skim milk and cocoa powder. That’s it, girls. The soccer mom mocha. Remember, as long as the mug looks good, and there’s caffeine inside, you’ve pretty much got it made.

I am grateful for the lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning and floors that need waxing, because it means I have a home. -Unknown

I love my routine on the farm. Usually. Today more than most days, though, cause we’ve been gone for the weekend and I’m missing all the daily chores that tend to get so…daily when I haven’t had a break in a while. Gone three days and, oh, my word, there is not one piece of clean laundry between the four of us! One of the things I truly love about this house, though, is the clothesline. When it’s hot out, it is the clothes dryer. The electric one in the laundry room sees no action at all this time of year.
If you’ve never hung out your laundry, I highly suggest you give it a try. We have a great set up. Our long, covered back porch has a retractable, 5 string clothes line that you can pull across and secure so that it runs the length of the porch. It’s perfect, ‘cause it’s under cover. That means that should the unthinkable happen and I become distracted and leave the clean clothes hanging out for, oh, say, 6 days they are safe and sound even if it rains. There is something about hanging out your laundry. First of all, if I’m doing it, the weather is probably pretty decent. It’s also probably pretty early in the day. I like to give the clothes every opportunity to be dry by dinner time so that I can bring them in before bed. Except for the fore mentioned times when I hang them out and then leave them so long that the kids have outgrown them before I bring them in. Ha ha. Just kidding. That never happens. I’m on top of it. Always.
So anyway, if I’m out on my back porch, barefoot, hanging clean, wet clothes on the line, it’s usually at the beginning of a beautiful, sunny day, before it gets too hot. The robins and woodpeckers are making a racket. The dogs are out in the yard following the invisible scent trails left by coyotes, raccoon, deer and who knows what else crossing our property in the middle of the night. I can look in through the windows and see the boys making their own breakfast as they get ready for a summer day full of all the stuff two brothers can dream up. (Did I mention that I love the fact that my boys can make their own breakfast? There really are upsides to your babies getting bigger.) Sometimes there is a hummingbird visiting the feeder on the porch.
There is a pine tree growing right off one corner of my porch and right at eye level there is a robin’s nest. This spring there were three babies in it. It was so great! Every morning we watched the mama feeding the babies. Actually, it was a little disgusting, seeing as how the mama had to regurgitate everything the babies ate. They didn’t seem to mind though.
I love that laundry goes so much faster when you don’t have to wait for the dryer. In a couple of hours I can have 4 loads done and hung out and then I can just forget about laundry until after dinner. Then, at the end of the day I’ll have an excellent excuse to leave the dinner dishes to Mark and the boys. “I have to bring in the laundry,” I’ll say, all virtuous. The boys grumble less than usual about the dishes because they think they are getting out of helping with an even less desirable chore. Little do they know that I’ve been looking forward to this all day. It gives me a chance to be outside again, just as the weather is cooling a little. I’m not leaving the porch so I don’t need to mess with putting shoes on. I can feel the weathered porch boards under my bare feet and the sun on my shoulders as I unpin each shirt and sock and pair of jeans. The red plaid hanging bag steadily fills with discarded clothes pins and the stacks of clean clothes grow higher on the picnic table. I fold as I go and sort by owner, so that by the time I’m done everything is ready to be claimed and put away, not by me. Having all the laundry in the house clean, folded and put away at the end of the day is very, very satisfying. And it always is. Really.

Like father, like son, like son...

These pictures were taken a few years ago, but, really, they're just as funny now as they were the day they were taken. Mark's parents were over for our traditional Saturday morning breakfast, and Max wanted to try on Grandpa Vern's glasses. Then his hat. Then his flannel shirt. I ran for the camera, and things just escalated from there.

Can't really tell they're related, can ya?

Oh, you meant it's hot...

Mark tried to warn him. He really did. But Max can usually eat anything hot. He's like his dad that way. But not this time. We were in Cody, Wyoming, which, by the way, is one of my very most favoritest places. I was off wandering through the Traces of Light gallery, and trying to think of a way to get the photographers who own it to adopt me, and Mark was keeping the boys entertained and oblivious to the fact that their mother was thinking of running away to be a full time photographer.

That was when they found a little shop that sold all manner of jerkey (think antelope, buffalo and rattlesnake.) They also sold a wide range of salsas and hotsauces. If you ask me about it, I'll tell you about the one that is totally inappropriate to talk about in a public forum. They had a nice little table set out with samples of many of their delightful wares.

Mason, being a fairly reasonable person when it comes to hot foods stuck to the "middle of the road" salsa. Even that, Mark told me later, made his face go beet red, starting with his neck and working steadily up to his hair line, not unlike a cartoon character.

Mark was game for anything. Even the one with the warning label that said, "Hot! Hot! Hot!" Truth in advertising. It made Mark break out in a sweat.

So when Max asked to try it, Mark said, "I don't know if I'd do that if I were you." Max, undeterred, figured he was up to the challenge.

This is when his mother walked into the shop. Max had kind of a funny look on his face.

"Buddy, are you alright?"

And that's when Max burst into uncontrollable sobs.

This is my tough boy. The boy who eats everything his dad eats.

"What happened!!!!!!!"

Then I got the story. Sheesh. The two men who worked in the shop were standing around with blank looks on their faces. Uh, guys... do you think you could get a glass of water for this kid? RIGHT NOW?????????? Honestly.

We got the majority of the fire put out, but Max was complaining of a headache for the next half hour. Don't worry though. By the time I had walked all over half of Cody and found him some aspirin, not to mention a glass of water to take it with, he was fine. Of course.

Like we told Max, pain is temporary, but a good story lasts forever.

Four score and 6 weeks ago...

Starts out cute and quickly heads downhill. Mason was Abraham Lincoln for his school's Spring program. Speaking part. He did an amazing job. You could hear him and everything. His mama's so proud. After the program, his grandmas couldn't resist trying on his costume. Grandpa Bob could have resisted, but Grandma Marlene wouldn't let him. Speaking of the costume, muchas gracias to Grandma Evelyn. That woman created a very respectable (and recognizeable!) Abe out of supplies she had in the back of a closet somewhere. She's amazing. Really. I'm forever indebted. Without her, Mason might have ended up wearing a sign on his chest saying, "I'm Abraham Lincoln." Costume desing is not my gifting.

Tomatoes and squash never fail to reach maturity. You can spray them with acid, beat them with sticks and burn them; they love it. ~S.J. Perelman, A

Is it weird to want to plant things just because of their "meaning?" You can look it up on the internet, but be careful. If you google, "herb meanings," you can get into some very creepy, new-agey websites. Don't do it! Still a lot of it is very quaint and charming and I'm such a sucker for quaint and charming. Did you know, for example, that cloves represent dignity and Angelica stands for inspiration? Righ now I'm inspired to get online and find out what Angelica even is!





Okay, I'm back now. It's amazing how fast you can edu-ma-cate yourself on the computer these days! Just so you know, Angelica, also known as Wild Archangel and Masterwort, is good for lots of things. Use it as a gargle. Make a nice tonic to strengthen the heart or a poultice for the healing of broken bones. It has antibacterial properties and can be used for washing the face or curing athlete's foot. The powdered root is said to cause disgust for liquor! Try slipping some in your underage kid's diet coke. That'll fix 'em! Plus, it's a very pretty, lacy white flower that reminds me of Queen Anne's Lace. So, Angelica goes in my little garden notebook as something to plant next spring. Not that I'll probably ever make a tonic or a potion or even wash my face with the stuff, but I do like the things I plant to have a charming story behind them.

If it doesn't have a cute story, it should, at the very least, have a fetching name. Black-Eyed Susans. Butter Beans. Pattypan Squash. Seriously. Have you ever seen a Pattypan Squash? They look like little flying saucers or agreeable little creatures that could live in your pocket, except, of course, they have no eyes. Eyes on a squash would just be wrong, but you know what I mean. I hope. Besides, when someone comes over to see your garden and says, "Oh, what are those?" you can say, "Those are Pattypan Squash." It's worth growing them, just to have the opportunity to say their name.

Pattypan Squash will fit quite nicely in a pumpkin patch. I don't know if you've noticed lately, but getting an adequate number of pumpkins for proper October decorating has gotten rather cost prohibitive lately. The last time I went to the farmers market and started doing the math on how many pumpkins I wanted for the front porch and the back porch and the side porch and the stairs and the front doorway and out by the end of the driveway, I started seeing visions of Mark's face in my mind. The look on his face in these visions clearly said that, to him, spending more than a hundred dollars on pumpkins was not only not okay, it was probably a sign of a relatively serious mental illness. So, I thought, "If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!" Oops! Sorry. Channeling the Grinch. What I meant to say was, if I can't buy 25 pumpkins, I'll grow them instead! Stay tuned to find out how that turns out...

Moving forward

All right, stay with me here, people. I know I've been a little sketchy on getting new posts out. The reason is, I've been considering bailing on the whole blog thing and focusing entirely on working on a book. Everything I've heard and read says, don't put anything on a blog that you hope to get published. Once it's out in the blogosphere you can't really plan on getting it published. Fish or cut bait, fish or cut bait????????????? Book or blog? Well, here's the thing. I may never in life get published and the pressure of it kind of freaks me out a little bit. So... That said, I'm gonna go from alternating between dinking around with this and ignoring it out of major blogging guilt. Let's do it! Besides, lots of the really fun stuff, like pictures, recipes and really way out there random topics just don't fit in the narrow confines of a possibly publishable book. So I'm touching base with my web site guru friend to see if she's totally given up on me. If not, I'm gonna revamp this whole deal and start having some real fun with it. I'm hearing crickets, so if there's nobody still out there, I'll totally understand. If you're still there, I'm impressed. Hang with me and let's go!

Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~Henry James

Last Friday was the last day of school. What a happy madhouse it was! Most of the classes found excuses to be outside for most of the day. Mason's class had a party outside that went on for hours. Other classes had recesses that ignored the whistles and bells that would summon them inside. Teachers were at least as glad as students to escape the classroom. For once the weather cooperated and the sun shone, warm and bright. Parents hung around, socializing. Kids yelled and ran around with their friends. Never ending snacks were served. Shorts and sandals were worn by all. Vacation plans were discussed. Promises were made to keep in touch over the summer. And, as if this weren't enough on its own, the last day of school was made even sweeter by the knowledge that the public school kids have another three weeks of school.

Blue skies, smiling at me. Nothing but blue skies, do I see. Irving Berling

Definitely time for a new post, but seeing as how it looks like THIS outside, well... both of us need to get off the computer and go enjoy the day. Play, garden, hike, for tomorrow it may rain.

Do your part to make this world a cuter place to live in. -Susan Branch

Today's daily dose of cuteness is brought to you by my nephew, Nathaniel, in the lamb sweater I knit for him. 'Nuff said.

What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul.-Yiddish proverb

Ta Da! The first batch of Glory Bee Farm homemade soap is done. This batch is an Oatmeal Honey Beeswax Scrub, scented with orange and clary sage essential oils. As my dear friend Davi said, it makes her want to take a shower and eat her soap. If you have any interest in purchasing Glory Bee Farm homemade soap, email me at glorybeefarm@live.com. Consider custom ordering a whole batch and knocking 15 people off your Christmas shopping list at once! Fragrances can be customized. Please allow 6-8 weeks time for delivery, as soap must cure for that long before it is useable.

If I ruled the world, every day would be the first day of spring. Leslie Bricusse and Cyril Ornadell

Spring reminds me why I live in the country. Most days. Except when it snows all over the newly planted strawberry starts in my garden. I get a little anti-spring on days like that. It doesn't last, though. I mean, really. Look at that lamb. Spring lamb trumps spring snow any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.

Wow. I am completely overwhelmed by an urge to reinvent my living space from top to bottom. I can't seem to get over it. I even day dream about buying a new house just so that I will have a fresh canvas to organize and decorate. Is this normal? Does anyone else ever feel this way? Maybe I've been reading too many decorating books. I wan't to throw out 90 % of what I own. I want every one of my belongings to be the exact right thing that just makes me happy to look at it. I want my house to be sparkling clean at all times, welcoming, cozy and charming. I want my friends and family to walk in the door and know exactly who I am by exploring my house. Well, actually, they can probably already do that. They walk in and think, hmm... This house belongs to a busy mom who spends her time enjoying her family, even if it means it's been a little too long since the floors were swept. What I really want, though, is for them to say, hmm.. This house belongs to a busy mom who spends her time enjoying her family but still has time to keep a sparkling house, have delicious, creative, healthy meals every day of the week, is creatively fulfilled and well read, and still has time to put her feet up. As soon as I figure out how to be that woman, I'll post my secrets on this blog and we can all be the envy of soccer moms everywhere. Don't hold your breath.

Books to the ceiling, books to the sky,

My pile of books is a mile high.

How I love them! How I need them!

I’ll have a long beard by the time I read them!
Arnold Lobel

If the cruddy February weather is getting you down, go to the library! If you haven't been in a while, you'll be amazed at what you find. Most libraries have a remarkable selection of audio books as well as dvd's. Spend an hour just browsing in a section you'd normally overlook. Who knows what new interest you might uncover. Even the smallest children are entertained by an afternoon at the library. Check out a stack of books and the enjoyment will last long after you get home.