Dirt

When your Daddy is a farmer and has to fix a part on a tractor, grain drill, or disk, you beg to go to work with him. When your Mommy is grumpy and needs a break at the same time, she will look at your Daddy and do something funny with her eyebrows. It will work almost every time.

When you come home from school on a Friday afternoon and your Mommy discovers you have a fever, and then your sister gets a fever too, your Mommy will be sad at having to miss a wedding that night. You were going to have to take a bath and get all dressed up. She will also be sad about having to miss her date with Daddy the next night. You were going to play at a friend's house, and you are very sad too. And then your Mommy will say that it's time to make pig cookies again, and that she is glad she can take care of you. But she will fuss about the crumbs on the floor.


Cute Pig Cookies

1 c. butter or margarine, softened (I use part butter and part Crisco)
1 1/2 c. sugar
2 eggs
1 c. sour cream
1 t. vanilla
3 c. all-purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt

Frosting:
1/2 c. butter, melted
4 c. powdered sugar
2 t. vanilla
6 T. milk
3-4 drops red food coloring

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, sour cream and vanilla; mix well. Combine dry ingredients; add to creamed mixture and mix well. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake at 375 for 10-12 minutes or until edges are lightly browned. Cool.

Decorate cookies with frosting, pink sugar wafer cookies, halved large marshmallows and Reese's candy bar sprinkles or whatever you can find at the store.

Oink away.

Lately

Abandon yourself to the nap!

Naps are located in the top drawer of my coping toolkit. They are especially useful as we're shooing away the flu virus. (Yes, one faint positive flu swab at the doctor's yesterday.)

200th post

In my recent blog silence, so much happened in our lives it's hard to know what to write about, or even if I should. The most notable thing that happened was the passing of Jason's grandfather. He lived just a few stone's throws from us, and we would often take stroller walks to MawMaw and PawPaw's house. He was always glad to see his great grandchildren, even though gradually he couldn't hold them anymore, then couldn't put his arm around them, and finally was too weak to even hold out his hand for a five. He seemed to perk up when his grands and great-grands were around, and in fact Jason and Owen were two of the last people he recognized, or was able to mention that he recognized. I will never forget the phone call early Saturday morning. We had seen him the night before, but still we wished for one more goodbye.

In a pathetic twist of plot, The Virus hit. I should say walloped. The morning of the visitation, cousin Juli had stopped by to visit, and as we were talking, Owen threw up all over me and the carpet in the basement. Juli, about to graduate from nursing school, took it all in stride like a hero! Of course we were hosting out-of-state guests, my parents included, and I felt terrible about exposing them. There was little we could do but keep to ourselves, disinfect surfaces, change shirts and wash hands frequently. Helen got it about 12-14 hours later. I heard a little whimper during the middle of the night, checked on her, and discovered her lying in her crib, covered in cold puke. Around the same time my kids were getting sick, it was hitting other extended family members in various manners and intensities. My father in law, though he had a meditation to deliver, even considered staying home from his own dad's funeral, he felt so awful! Jason got hit during the funeral, and had to force himself to fulfill his pallbearer duties at the gravesite. Following the funeral, others began to get sick, and like us, most local family members were hosting out-of-state family. So the gift went on. Lots of us holed up in our homes for quite a while, but some poor, poor people had to endure cross-country travel while they were ill. There are all sorts of pathetically hilarious events associated with this particular GI bug that I don't have the freedom to mention, and no fewer than 34 family members got the bug. (The number may still be rising, who knows?) Fortunately, Jack did not get sick, and the worst it got for me was some slight nausea and a few skipped meals. Recounting the tale makes me feel a touch ill, sort of like getting itchy when you hear of someone getting lice. And I just rubbed my ear in a scratching sort of way. I wonder how you are feeling just reading this?!
The Nests.

Just at the end of Grandpa's burial service, it began to rain. When we arrived home, what we saw in the sky was absolutely amazing. Not one full rainbow, but four! If you look very closely, you can see that the one on the bottom is a triple. My parents and I were outside. My jaw was on the ground. Poor Jason was too sick to get out of the bed. It was such a timely gift from God, a sign of peace over Grandpa's life and his family, arching over the land he once farmed.



Grandpa was a big part of our lives, and we miss him. We had a near front-row seat to the final stages of life, and it was saddening but strengthening to watch those before us face death with courage and dignity. We love you, Grandpa, and we'll miss seeing you on your golf cart. Owen thinks maybe you are running in heaven, and he wants to run with you too.

Bronchitis

I'm sick.

For the past week, I've been noshing my morning granola, mouth hanging wide open. I can't breathe much out of my nose, and my table manners have flown out the window. Can't taste much of anything, either. Can't smell. I couldn't even catch a faint whiff of the Vicks I slathered on the kids. And for good measure, I ache all over, have an off-and-on fever, and I'm coughing too.

So today I finally went to the doctor. Jason, who has been so patient, hauled me in, along with Owen and Helen, who have started their own loud, hacky coughs. Owen has been running a fever as well. Ms. Quinley wrote antibiotics, bless her soul, and Mucinex. Bronchitis for me. The Crud for the kids.

While we were marinating in our own germs in the exam room, Ruth kept Jack and did a load of laundry for us. She kept Jack the rest of the day and made supper for us too. What an awesome mother in law.

I'm hoping that once the medicine gets into my system, I'll feel like doing something more than running for the nearest tissue box.

Feeling better

We are all better from being sick, except for nasty hacking, dry coughs. The kids have that bossy attitude that follows sickness, but we'll survive.

A few pictures from this week:
Munching on frozen blueberries.

Munching on an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. Somehow I think she looks like my baby brother Lyndon in this picture.
Cooking along with Rachael Ray, using cutting edge toy technology, thanks to my mom. Helen and Owen had a fight over who got to push the red Member's Mark "button" on top. They invented that one.
New shoes. Jason wondered if they came with ear plugs. They're the clicky-clacky kind that every little girl loves.

New dress made by her mama. The buttons on the front are pre'y (pretty). Anything with a flower or a bright color is pre'y.

Fire Extinguisher

Several years ago, I was contracted to sew some shirts for someone's daughter. She was involved in rodeos, needed Western shirts, and liked her gear to look flashy. I just sew as I'm told. So after all my work of painstakingly matching flames and perfectly sewing and finishing seams, she never picked up or paid for the shirt, and I was left with it and all the fabric for the other shirts she had ordered.
Here it is, in all its blazing glory. Any bids? Women's size small. Some would think it hot with black jeans.

I had been wanting to sew a pair of pajamas for Owen. I have made pajamas for three nephews so far and nightgowns for two nieces and for Helen. But I couldn't find the right fabric.

Then I remembered the stash I had from the un-sewn Western shirts, and thought maybe the fabric would be cuter with a different interpretation...Owen wasn't terribly enthused. We had to make him wear them, since he likes his tractor pajamas and his dinosaur pajamas. We refer to these new ones as his pimp jammies (not in front of him!) The poor kid might be scarred for life, because we laughed so hard the first time we saw him in them. They're pretty oversized for him, and Jason commented it looked like a zoot suit.

On another, sicker note, we have had what we presume to be the flu. Jason caught it somewhere last week, then brought it home to share with the rest of us. I do not get sick very often, and I was willing my way through this one. But Saturday night, I woke up freezing, feverish and feeling like I had hopped in front of a swinging wrecking ball. Sheer misery. I briefly thought, "Lord, take me home."

Helen woke up Sunday morning looking like I felt. The two of us just sort of pathetically existed yesterday. And now Owen woke up with a fever and a cough this morning, although he still wanted his moatmeal and a peppermint and a cookie. Helen is still sleeping, as of 9:17, so she probably is not back to normal yet.

And to make matters worse, I ran out of coffee this morning. Sheer misery.