Any Bigfoot Hunters Out There?

When we purchased this house, the previous owners took us on a little tour of the property.  They were very sad to be moving, so we indulged them in a little nostalgia and farm lesson. 

Two things really stuck in my mind from that afternoon.

1.)  We are allowed to shoot any animal that threatens our chickens.  As he said, "We can even shoot peregrine falcons if they come after the flock."  This didn't stick in my mind because I planned on using the information.  It stuck because the mere thought cracked me up to no end.   First of all, if I have to choose between an endangered bird and a common chicken, I choose the falcon.  Second of all, the thought of Hubby wielding a gun to shoot a falcon out of the air sends me into a fit of laughter.  Yeah, something would get shot, but it most certainly wouldn't be that falcon. 

2.  The neighbor down the street is one odd duck.  He has video cameras set up at the edge of his property on the railroad side.  (There is a railroad half a mile from our house.)  Not to watch for coyote.  Not to watch for burglars.  No, he has them to watch for Bigfoot.  I thought for sure the guy was joking, but no.  The neighbor is actually afraid that Bigfoot will be comin' on the train and get off at his house.

So, for my little predicament, I could just go ask Odd Duck Neighbor, but we've never met and I'm afraid to make contact.  Plus, he has a locked gate securing his driveway.

Honestly, I don't need a Bigfoot Hunter.  A UFO fanatic would do, too.  Or even someone from Loch Ness looking for the monster.

I really just need someone who can decipher grainy photos.

As I ate my breakfast this morning, I heard the dogs go berserk.  Upon investigation, I saw a creature halfway down the driveway.  It wasn't fazed in the least by the dogs' barking.  (They are behind an electric fence, so could not get at the creature.)  But once I stepped foot on the front porch, it mosied off to the tree line.

I gotta say, the thought of it made me very wary to head out to feed the pigs.  Not because I thought the creature would eat me, but because I was afraid the creature had beaten me to the pig pen.  I didn't have time to clean up a dead pig.

About 20 minutes later, it showed up again.  This time I remembered to get my camera.  I took the photos from inside the house, so as not to scare the thing away before I got it on "film".

Pretty sure I've got myself a coyote.

Here are the photos.

What do you think?

 

 

By the way, I had a mild panic attack when I did feed the pigs.  They didn't come out of the barn like they usually do when they hear me coming.  Fortunately, I discovered they were just sleeping in this morning.  All is well.  For now.

If you are a good friend, you won't mention the dandelions or uneven mowing.  Be a good friend.  Or come mow it yourself.  :)

Have a lovely day!

In Which I Take a Day to Be Serious, and Probably Controversial

I have had this post brewing in my head for months.  I have actually written it twice, then deleted it before hitting that publish button.  Part of me doesn't want to post it because this isn't a place where I normally get all serious and controversial.  I have managed, quite nicely, without a single nasty comment on any post.  But my conscience won't leave me alone.  I've been getting that tap, tap, tap for a while, and it's beginning to turn into a full-on shove.  It's time.

One year ago, we went through a terrible heart scare with Buttercup.  It was a week filled with tears and worry and doctors.  In the end, we were told her heart was fine.  Yes, it beats very irregularly, but there is always one normal beat in between the odd ones.  Nothing to worry about.

One little normal beat is what keeps her from having a heart attack in the middle of the soccer field.

When your child is in the middle of a heart scare, you realize how miraculous a heart is.  For our entire lives, that little muscle never stops beating.  The moment it does, we die.  To me, it is a mind-boggling miracle that such a tiny organ, a simple muscle, can work that hard and never, one time need a break.

I'll never forget the first time I heard each of my baby's heartbeats.  At six weeks pregnant, looking at that ultrasound screen, the womp-womp sound of the little heart filling the room, I was so terribly happy.  With that sound came peace.  A knowledge that all would be well.

Up until that point, I was filled with anxiety, because I have twice been in the situation where the ultrasound showed the lack of the baby's heartbeat.  It showed a baby, but there wasn't the wonderful sound of a heartbeat filling the room.  One little heartbeat.  It's all we were looking for.  And when it couldn't be found, we knew I had miscarried.  I would not be holding that baby in my arms.

To me, a baby's heartbeat is the best sound in the entire world.

I am fully aware that this is not the case for all women.  For some, that sound brings confusion, fear, and panic.  For a whole host of reasons, a woman may not be happy about the new life growing inside her.

Regardless, it is a new life.

It is a life that should be respected as such.

I am 100% pro-life, because that new life is NOT the pregnant woman's body.  It may be growing inside of her, but it is a new life, with a new body, with a new heart beating in its chest. 

When a woman has an abortion, a heartbeat is stopped.  A body is torn apart.  That heart and that body are not the pregnant woman's heart and body.

The women in situations of "unwanted" pregnancies should be shown compassion and love.

I say unwanted with quotes, because while the pregnant woman may not want or be able to care for that baby, someone else desperately does and could.  There are people lined up at adoption agencies, praying and waiting as patiently as possible to finally be chosen to become adoptive parents.

I know lots and lots of adoptive parents who are very grateful to the women who gave birth to their children.

I have an immediate family member who is a birth father, but with his girlfriend, decided to give that precious baby to another couple who could better care for him.

I know someone who was chosen to be an adoptive parent, and after a month of updates on the pregnancy, found out that the birth mother, because of intense pressure from the father and her parents, had an abortion.

I cry every time I think of it.

That young woman will very likely regret that decision for the rest of her life.

I say this, because two good friends of mine did the exact same thing many years ago.  They don't go a day without fighting the guilt and regret of that one decision.

Regardless of the circumstances in which a woman becomes pregnant, there is a new life growing.

We cannot define it based on the desires of the mother.  If the mother wants it, she is carrying a baby, but if not, it is called reproductive tissue?  That makes absolutely no sense to me.

It is a baby.  End of story.

I am also friends with a man who is very happy to be alive.  When his mother found out about her pregnancy, she was pressured by her family to have an abortion.  She went so far as to make and go to an appointment to have the abortion.  In the waiting room, she got a burst of courage and walked out.

Did this woman and her son have an easy life?  Not even close.

Do they regret her decision to walk out of that appointment?  Absolutely not.

Pro-life does not mean easy.  In some cases it means very, very difficult. 

Difficult is a part of life.  It brings heartache and sadness.  It brings anger and frustration.  But, if we give it a chance, difficult can also come with strength we didn't know we had.  It can come with blessings we couldn't have imagined.

I know there are mean, evil people in this world.  I know these mean, evil people, every once in a while, are the reason women become pregnant.  I know, so you don't need to ask me in the comments about incest and rape.  I know.  Those women need even more support and help in very different ways.

And this is where you will find me to be very naïve, but it's a dream, so I'm allowed to be.  My dream is for a world where every single pregnant woman is loved and supported by everyone.  Where the people in her life encourage her throughout the pregnancy, whether she decides to raise the baby herself, or allow another family to do so.  If unexpectedly pregnant women were given this support, regardless of how that baby got there, we wouldn't even have to talk about abortion.  It wouldn't be an option people even considered.

I am pro-compassion.

I am pro-love.

I am pro-life.

I Have a Special Purpose!

*Longtime readers, you better know the movie.

As a mother of six and preschool teacher of many, I consider myself bilingual.  I have very little trouble understanding the words youngsters are saying.  I can always figure out the words. 

The special purpose comes when I have to figure out the meaning of a string of identifiable words which make no sense to the untrained ear.  I frequently get the look from other adults when they are talking with little kids that says, "Help me out here!  What is this child trying to tell me???"  There is always a meaning.  I just need to get in the child's brain and figure it out.

For example, I completely understood the words when Cuckoo said, "I made two snots!"  However, it wasn't until I saw him messing with his shoelaces that I realized he was "tying" his shoes and made two knots.

Here's a more difficult one.

Out of the blue, Cuckoo asked, "Can we go to the Barbie store?"

Me: The Barbie store?

Him:  Yes.  It's by where we were the other day.

Me:  We've been lots of places.  What did we do there the other day?

Him:  It's the Barbie store!

Clearly, that was too difficult a question.  However, Turken  knew what he was talking about and tried to help.

Turken:  Oh!  It's the store with a cage on the front!

Me:  A Barbie store with a cage on the front?

Cuckoo:  Yes!  At the Barbie store!

Turken:  Yes!  And the cage is on fire.

Me:  A Barbie store with a cage on the front which happens to be on fire?

Turken:  Yes.

Me:  And where is this store?

Turken:  Across from where we went to eat.

AHA!  The missing piece of the puzzle.

Cuckoo wanted to go to the BARBEQUE place, which happened to have a picture of a rack of ribs, on fire, above the door.

I am the master.

Last one.

Driving in the van, Cuckoo asked, "How do people get into your belly?"

Of course, my first thought, with all of the babies being born recently, was, "Do we really have to have a conversation about how women get pregnant now?  With a three year old?"

Fortunately, this is not my first rodeo, so I asked a question.

Me:   People get into my belly?

Him:  Yes.  People get into your belly.

The way he was saying it, I knew he wasn't talking about babies.  He meant full-grown people getting into my belly.  MY belly being very important.

I then paid more attention to our surroundings, specifically the song on the radio. 

See if you can figure it out.

Listen here.

Catch it?

Edna the Elephant wanted to dance in the "New York ballet."  York ballet = your belly.

Just call me The Preschool Whisperer.

* It's "The Jerk!"  If you haven't seen the movie, you really should.  My posts will make a whole lot more sense to you, thus be funnier, if you do.    

Have a lovely day!

My (Secret) Friends

My dear blog friends, I must apologize.

I am sorry, but I don't talk about you in my "real" life very often, if at all.  Even if you and I have been communicating for a year, I don't tell my family about you.  I don't tell them the funny story you posted.  I don't tell them of your trials and tribulations.  It's not that I don't enjoy your posts.  Clearly, I enjoy your posts and your comments on mine.  But on the few early occasions that I did talk about you, I was reminded of my grandma.

Oftentimes when I visit with my wonderful grandma, she will regale me with tales of her friends and neighbors.  I enjoy listening to those stories.  But every once in a while, in the middle of a story, I will realize she is talking about a comic strip.  She will talk about these cartoon characters as if they live right down the road and are her best friends.

As far as my family is concerned, you all are my comic strip cartoon characters.  They cannot fathom being good friends with someone with whom they have never met in the flesh.

I get it.  This is a bit of a bizarre world here in blogland.  I could walk right by one of you on the street and not even know it.  I only know things that you have chosen to share.  We don't have shared experiences to lead to conversations beginning, "Do you remember when we..."  I don't know your mannerisms, facial expressions, or sound of your voice. 

I know you know what I'm talking about. 

But recently, lines have been getting crossed.  Real life has been infiltrated by Blogland residents.

The author of a wonderful blog (and star of an iVillage cooking show) made a badge for me without ever being asked.

I got an email from my friend in England, with a photo of herself holding a giant British pen to go with Hubby's giant pencil.

Remember this?  I still laugh when I see it.

She was thinking of us when she saw it.

Lines were crossed, and I started to throw in quick little mentions of you all to test the waters in conversations with my family. 

And then, a blog friend not only crossed the line, she high jumped it.

The other day, I received this in the mail:

Wow, that's some bad photo quality, right there.  Sorry about that.

My blog friend, Jen, sent me a little "Happy Spring" package full of treats and spring décor.  Such a fabulous surprise it was. 

With this tangible proof, my family must now admit that you all are, in fact, real.  And not just real, but ridiculously nice and thoughtful. 

When I started this blog, I had no idea what would come of it.  I just wanted to have a place to journal our lives all in once place.  (I used to have pen and paper journals for each kid, but that became way too much to keep up with.)  I never could have guessed I would meet and befriend a whole bunch of people from all over the globe.  I've learned so much from reading about the experiences of folks in vastly different circumstances than me.  I've laughed uproariously at the funny things you all have written.  I've actually cried from reading about the struggles some have gone/are going through.

You all are a lovely group, and I'm so grateful to be a part of it.

My, I'm extra mushy today, aren't I?  I'm guessing those 25 soccer games did something to me.

During this latest phase of mine in which I thought blogging every day in the mother of all bloghops was a good idea, I did manage to meet some wonderfully interesting and funny people doing the challenge right alongside me.  I'd like to introduce you to a few of them.   

A View from the Edge - Pat and her husband sold their house, packed up their belongings and spent seven years traveling around the US in an RV.  They found the most unusual spots, and during the challenge, she documented some of them.  Hubby and I took several vacations in which we simply got in the car and drove back roads, stopping when we found something interesting.  Pat and Jim are folks who lived our dream.  (minus the RV.  I'll be staying in hotels, thank you very much.)

Two Shoes in Texas - Josie's theme for the challenge was "An Attitude of Gratitude".  Each day she made a list of a wide variety of things beginning with the days letter for which she was grateful.  Her lists included everything from microwaves to old-time photos to QWERTY to Jello.  During the month she was also able to take a trip to Savannah, GA, and through her I was able to reminisce about the times I've been to the area with my family.

The Cryton Chronicles - I hardly know how to explain Jak.  He is basically the opposite of me, being single, male, interested in sci-fi and gaming, and he posted his letter posts right before the daily deadline.  (I scheduled mine sometimes days in advance.)  Despite the fact he gives me the creeps when he writes about his haunted childhood home, I find him enjoyable.

Other's I met late in the challenge:

A Tent, a Caravan, 4 Wheels, and Me

Dancing with Dragonflies

Mama, Schmama

Mothers of Brothers Blog

My Crazy Family Circus

A Word or Two, about a Word

Stretching My Wings

Adventures in the Ballpark

Silvia Writes

None of these folks have given me gifts, seeing as it isn't mandatory for being my friend.  I will say, though, that gifts will never be turned away. :)

I shall leave you with one of my grandma's friends, because I have to admit, I do enjoy some Family Circus myself.



Have a lovely day!

Quick Takes - AKA Getting This Blog Back to Normal

Good grief, it's been so long, I forgot to add the link to Jen!  Go forth and see more quick takes.  After you read mine, of course. 

************** 1 *************

So, I cut myself shaving, and it hurt, man!  Before you go and say, "I hate it when that happens," let me just say I would bet 100 bucks you never cut yourself like I did.

As you continue to read this story, please picture me completely clothed.  I am not a fan of public nudity.

I face away from the shower spray to shave.  I then have to twist around to rinse the razor.  Well, on one of my twists, I miscalculated my girth and swiped that razor right across my hip.  A three inch slice of pain, if you will, right along the line wear my underwear goes.  For 24 hours, while a 3 inch scab formed, my hip stung every time I moved. 

I am a genius.

************* 2 **************

Remember all of that rain during the two weeks leading up to the play?  During that time, lots of soccer games were postponed.  Guess when they were rescheduled for?  Yes, this week.  All of them.  Add those to the games already scheduled for this week, and my kids have a grand total of 25 games in nine days.  TWENTY FIVE!!!! IN NINE DAYS!!  Ya'll, this is ridonkulous. 

Fortunately, most of the games are home games, so we've been able to eat real dinners together at home.  Sure, dinner is at 4:00, but we're eating healthy home-cooked meals.  And the weather has been quite pleasant, so a night at the fields is not bad.  And it's ISTEP week, so no homework to worry about.   We're doing quite well, considering.

************ 3 *****************

Speaking of ISTEP, let's talk about stupid rules made by people who don't work in schools.

This week is the statewide ISTEP test.  All kids in grades 3-12 take it each year.  This year, the state made the rule that all students in all schools take the test online. 

There were many, many issues that made this a dumb idea, but we'll just skip right to the meat of the matter.  The finale, if you will.  Every single school in the state is using every single computer they have at the exact same time.  Guess what happens then? 

Computers crash.

Kids were getting kicked off the test in the middle of it, if they could even get on it in the first place.  Chaos ensued.  Monday's afternoon tests were cancelled.

Same problems the next day.  Schools were then told to go to 50% capacity.   Teachers were told they were to turn their own computers off until the end of the day.  Wednesday was marginally better.  Of course, with all of the setbacks, getting them all in will be just a touch difficult.  I feel the most compassion for the kids that stress about these things, especially the third graders who have never taken one before. 

I have no idea how any of these scores can even be valid.

It is not that big of a deal at our school, as we are parochial and can do our own thing.

For the public schools, though, it's a different story.  Last year, new rules went into effect which sets teacher pay partially based on their performance, which is partially based on the performance of their students on ISTEP.

Fiasco.  With a capital fiasco.

**************** 4 ************

Cuckoo wanted to know what kind of candy he was having after lunch.  Normally, this would be an easy question.  However, he doesn't like normal and threw me a curveball.  The candy was already in his mouth, being chewed, when he asked, then opened his mouth to show it to me.

*************** 5 ****************
It is check-up week here at the farm.  Two kids and two dogs had their yearly appointments.

All four patients had to get shots.  Each dog and the five year old received two, while the human teen needed one.  One person had to practically be hog-tied in order to get the shot, and it wasn't the dogs or the five year old.  We'll just say I have zero tolerance for a teen who loses her marbles at the sight of a needle.  It wasn't pretty.

You know what else isn't pretty?  My dogs.  They are outside farm dogs.  They do not go to a groomer.  They do not get bathed except in the heat of summer.  I brush them when I can find the blasted brush.  They do receive their heartworm medicine (usually) and their vaccines (always).

Trips to the vet are soooo much fun for dogs who have never been inside of a house or outside of their yard.   (Unlike the children, the dogs go in two different appointments, seeing as I cannot take two 90 pound dogs at once)  Each time we go, I look for every opportunity to jump in and defend my dog-parenting abilities.  This time, my opportunity came when the vet assistant said, "Your dog has dreadlocks all down his backside and legs."

The appointment got even better when the vet asked if Roy chews on things.  I deadpanned, "You mean like raccoons?  Or opossums?  Or tree limbs?  Or maybe chickens?  How about pig bones fresh out of the dead pig?  Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes."

Two days later, in a fit of anxiety, Hershey let his anal glands loose just as the vet was bending over to examine Hershey's rear.

Basically, they don't love me there.

Fortunately, they love, love, love my little boys, so they don't yell at me or turn me in for animal neglect.

 In the end, the vet discovered two ear infections, a dead tooth, and arthritis in our dear Roy.  He's a mess. 

**************** 6 **************

Turken and I have poison ivy.  I have no idea where we got it.  Thanks to appointments and games, we haven't done any yard work, (as the foot-long grass clearly demonstrates) so it is a big mystery.   The location of our rashes adds to the curious nature of it all.  Turken has it all over his chest, neck, and right arm. (He didn't have a single dot of it when we were at the doctor yesterday.)  I have it on the backs of my legs, riiiiight up next to my rear end.  Fortunately, he's tough and hasn't complained one wit about it. 

I, on the other hand, started itching last night and cursed all things nature as I climbed into bed.

Between the poison ivy and the three inch slash on my hip, I am praying I don't get in any sort of accident which would send me to the hospital in an unconscious state.  The doctors could have a field day trying to figure out the origins of all that is going on under my shorts.  (I know that sounds horrible.  I'm going to assume that no one will be reading that particular sentence out of context and take it the wrong way.  Behave yourselves.)

************ 7 ***********

I leave you with photos from our one free hour this week, which we enjoyed to the fullest extent possible.  We've been having some fantastic weather round these parts.

Have a lovely day!

Z Is for Zoar (and Zee End)

Zoar, Ohio, is a tiny little village not too far from where I grew up.  While the population is only 169 (yes, 169 people) those residents welcome 21,000 tourists each year.  The village was originally settled by some Germans looking for religious freedom way back in 1817.  Today, the village, including many of the restored buildings, are open for tourists and staffed by folks in period attire. 

In elementary school, I went to Zoar on at least one school field trip.  Hubby camped there with the Boy Scouts more than once.

Imagine my surprise when my research, (and by research I mean, "Dearest Google, please find a Z word for me to use on this very last day of the challenge!") led me to this article explaining the addition of Zoar to the list of America's 11 Most Endangered Historic Places!

Shocking, I say!

First of all, who would have thought an organization named "National Trust for Historic Preservation" would be all rebel-like and come up with a Top 11? 

Secondly, I had no idea that Historic Places could be endangered.  Endangered Animals?  Yes.  Endangered places? No.

Anyway, it seems the dam that was built to protect Zoar from the Tuscarawas River 100 years ago is falling apart.  The question now up for debate is should the government spend $100,000 to rebuild the levee and save the village, or let the levee go and allow Zoar to be wiped off the map?

Talk about a conundrum.

Considering I've never heard of the National Trust for Historic Preservation nor the list of Endangered Historic Places, I'm thinking their marketing strategy could use some work.  Perhaps they could take some notes from the Endangered Species people?  Put a cute face on each place and have donors "adopt" a location.  It worked for whales, so why can't it work for a village started by German separatists 200 years ago?  Surely there is at least one baby in the population of 169.  Or a kitten?  Perhaps a re-enactor holding a baby holding a kitten on the steps of one of the historic buildings?  That image would secure their future for sure.

Then I got to thinking, "I wonder what other Historic Places are endangered."

Well, there's a site for that.  There are actually almost 270 endangered historic places.

Quite the variety they have, too.

Joe Frazier's Gym in Philadelphia is on the list.  This is where the gold medal winning boxer and heavyweight champion trained.  Unfortunately, the building is currently being used as a furniture store, so the NTHP (my acronym, not theirs) has their work cut out for them.

Although, it will probably be harder to save the Prentice Women's Hospital, which is already scheduled for demolition by the owner.

Oh, another idea.  The two endangered organizations should band together.  Let an endangered Golden Lion Tamarin loose in the hospital, and they can't tear it down.

No, that idea isn't the greatest idea, but we're simply brainstorming here.  Ideas flowing.  Creativity blooming.  No idea too outlandish.

There are some sites that I just don't see as any hope of being saved.  Tiger Stadium for one.  According to NTHP, it is threatened by poor public policy, deterioration, and neglect.  I don't see how even the biggest brainstorm in the world could come up with something to save a huge, decrepit baseball stadium, even if some of the greatest players of the game called it home.

Of course, I am in Indianapolis, which happens to be the city which purposely blew up the old Market Square Arena, despite the fact it was the last place Elvis ever performed.  I guess you'd say we aren't exactly nostalgic around here.

For Zoar, though, I wish all 169 residents the best. 

The good news?  It's the government.  They aren't exactly quick to get things done.  The baby and the kitten should live nice, long lives in the village.

And with that...

Challenge complete.

Brain fried.

Zee end.

Have a lovely day!

Y Is for Youngins

Because I can hear you thinking, "Man, I wish she would post more photos of her offspring."

Yes, we really do live in the middle of nowhere.

Our preschool's Great GooseWatch.  A mama goose nicely made a nest right up next to the window of the entryway.  Each day we have a look-see to make sure the nine eggs haven't hatched.

"Mommy, I can run faster than the truck!"  Stupid truck.  We were supposed to be going for a walk.

5th grade Wax Museum.  Each student dresses up like an important person in history.  He/She can't move or talk until someone pushes the "button" on the table.  The "famous person" then recites a 30 second bio.  Giant went as JFK.  He even took hair spray to school to get his hair juuust so.

"Mom!  Mom!  I'm three and a half and taller than him!"

Snack time.  In the van.  Again.

We spent some time at the playground with a niece and nephew.  Couldn't get this one off the merry-go-round, except when she went flying off as it spun.  Even then, she was only off the thing long enough to put her shoes back on.

The oldest of the nephews.  It seems the "I'm going to put off cutting my boy's hair as long as possible" trait runs in my family. 

King of the world.  Or calling on the storms to pay his brother back for pushing him.  One of the two.

You knew you were going to be forced to view new nephew photos.

Oooooohhh, I love an itty-bitty baby!

Favorite quote of the visit:

At one point, while my niece was holding the baby, Turken was "petting" the top of Baby's head.  Niece said, "He doesn't have much hair."

Turken replied, "My daddy doesn't have much hair either."

True dat.

Have a lovely day!