The Blessing of Fellowship

Okay, I know I already posted today, but this one couldn't wait either (so many voices in my head, so little time to get them out). Here's the thing. It's midnight and I'm recalling what I was doing last night at midnight. Um, I was out at Starbucks having coffee with my dear new friend (courtesy of blogland), Miss Sniz. What??? Doesn't everybody sit in front of the Starbucks, the "closed hours ago" Starbucks, to gab over a cup of jo late into the night? No? Really? Because I'm thinking y'all do this too (wink, wink).

We planned to meet at 8:30pm "for an hour" for coffee. Nice plan, right? Only, what's "an hour" to two busy moms with common interests and a lot to say? It's FOUR hours. Uh huh, we talked until 12:30am. Did I hear a few gasps just now? See, because I really believe I did. Yes, we missed our mark. Our "one hour" plan, though sincere and well meaning, barely got us started. We just really enjoyed some mom time together (either that or we're die hard fans of Starbucks, right?)

And our dear husbands were not out of the loop. In fact, they were such a blessing to us, taking care of bedtime routines so we could enjoy our meeting. And get this. I even got to meet Mr. Shumway of Big Doofus Blog. By now, I'm sure most readers here know that Mr. Shumway and Miss Sniz are married. And, I'm thrilled to know them as new friends, both in blogland and in life.

Btw, I know of several other bloggers who might similarly post, "Guess who I met?" I won't mention any names (Dana and the other Toni), nor apply any pressure (What in the world are you waitin' for? Some particular shade of green?), but I do hope they'll take this step sometime soon as well. It's worth it!

Toni

Indiana Beach

On second thought, I better tell you about our end of summer jaunt before my busy mind forgets. So, here it is...the Indiana Beach (IB) road trip.

We began a tradition last year of taking an annual trip to IB as a Send-off/Kick-off. That is, a summer send off and a homeschool year kick off; a nice way to grab one last ounce of summer fun before resigning to the change of seasons and the school year at hand. Indiana homeschoolers, do check into the homeschool discount and workshops offered by IB during this last week of August as well (advance purchase required). They're nice.

Okay, so! I was all proud and overconfident organized. I had worked "the list", packing us the day before and listing last minute "to do's" as well. All good. Now Carl, wanting to be the helpful husband he truly is, was the one to actually load up the van. And I, being very relaxed due to my stellar planning, did not double check nor even inquire as to the status of our departure. Yes, you see where this is going.

We were literally less than ten minutes from IB when Carl exclaimed in a frustrated and panicked tone, "Oh nooOOO! We're so not packed."

"What? I had it all there. What didn't we pack?"

"Linens. We need our own linens in the cabin."
"Whaa???"

(Thaaaat's what I forgot.) Um,...Oops?"

Let me just say that we were not at all excited about this unforeseen (and unnecessary) expense. I, the stellar planning chick, was now going to be challenged to come up with bedding for five at one of my least favorite places in the world, Walmart. Joy! (Walmart and joy soooo do not go together, by the way.) I insisted we eat lunch first though, perhaps instinctively knowing my last nerve needed to remain intact for one final pluck. And that pluck came when we got out of the van with a screaming baby (hunger will do that) and lo-n-behold, where is that bottle bag?

"You packed it, no?"
"No."

PLUCK!

Did y'all hear that? My last nerve. Plucked beyond capacity.
No bottles!
No bedding!
No desire to waste time in Walmart spending money intended for family fun. And yet, there I was, caught in the snide (and in that dreadful place...Dr. Seuss).
And oh, look. "Grab you some firewood between the double entry doors," because hey, Walmart is known for its quality timbers, right?

Now, what to buy so as not spend all our fun money on items we left at home? Did you know a buck and and a half will buy a nice bath towel? No, we didn't need bath towels. But alas, our beach towels, if spread out just so, could double as a bed blanket. Oh sure, we're talkin' lap blankets at best. But would you prefer to be warm or would you prefer the scrumptious artery blocking properties of Flossie May's funnel cake emporium over at IB? I'm just sayin', choose carefully when the fun money is tight. So, the bath towels became beach towels and the beach towels became bed blankets.

And did you know that $2.50 will buy one (O-N-E) twin flat sheet? Everyone thus had a flat sheet, a beach towel blanket and a pillow (less the pillow case which, under the circumstances, was so not necessary). Nothing but 5 star accommodations for my family (one star for each member who suffered through this nightmare). Carl and I used our actual beach blanket from the trunk for our "sheet" (yes, the one with sand on it so we got the exfoliative scrub at no additional cost).

And the Walmart timber? Well, let's just say they should stick to selling other outdoor themed products like "White Stag", because folks, Walmart wood is WET! And wet wood doesn't make for great fires. It does, however, make for great lung hacking, smoke smellin', eye burning, and overall fuse popping. Not that it was all bad. I mean, since the wood wouldn't ignite, Carl and I had built-in quality time to gripe chat while we went through our fire starting motions at least 20 times (seriously).
Stack. Light. Smolder. Sigh.
Stack. Light. Smolder. Sigh.
Stack. Light. Smolder. Sigh.
Not to worry though. Those two hours were some of the happiest fire lighting hours of my life (grrrr!)

Now speaking of wood, the the hot dog sticks we brought were as thick as broomsticks. Did you know that hot dogs expand when heated? Of course you did. But I bet you didn't know they split like a pair of tight jeans when expanding on a broomstick, now did ya?
So, heat, split, fall in fire. Heat, split, fall in fire.

"Honey, if another hot dog falls in the fire, we'll be eating marshmallows for dinner." Which would have meant that Olivia ate nothing because she couldn't keep a marshmallow on her stick to save her life. Plop went the marshmallows, one after another. POP! went Olivia, again and again. And she was so bullheaded determined that she wouldn't let us help her for the longest time.

Cierah had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.
A. She never has to do this at home.
B. There was no bathroom in the cabin.
C. It was pitch black and chilly outside.
D. The bathrooms were a good 35 yards away.
E. All the above. BINGO!!!
(oh, and F. A baby will not sleep in a one room cabin when screen doors screech in the middle of the night and G. a mommy won't sleep when a baby is unhappy.)

I might mention Cierah also decided to take a big ol' clumsy run across the campground as we packed the van up the next morning. It helps when one actually looks where she is going, lest she end up with a face full of grill. And I mean "low to the ground" fire ring grill. Uh huh, she did too and she has the extensive forearm and upper lip abrasions to prove it too. So I finished packing up the van alone while Carl packed Cierah's nose with little toilet paper balls. The Clampetts. Nice.

I'm happy to say the most of the faux pauxs happened before we got to the park. Oh sure, Olivia had to cover her sister's crying eyes on the Sea Dragon and I had to endure four roller coaster rides with a headache and faulty equilibrium. But overall, the day at the park was wonderful. No lines. No rain. No need to pass on Flossie May's Funnel Cake emporium. And yes, we forgot some important "stuff." But I figure if we left food and water for the cat back home and we didn't leave a child behind, it's all good. Ya know?

Toni

I haven't fallen off the face of the earth...

...but it feels that way. I'm knee deep in last minute prep for the start of our homeschool year, which begins on Monday, September 3rd. Nothing like putting 'em to work on Labor Day, hee hee.

I sooo have to tell you about our annual send-off/kick-off trip to Indiana Beach, which we took this past week.


But, young campers, that story will have to wait until I get my school year launched.

Stay tuned.

And, the latest from our resident imp, Reece. He was playing a game with his big sister yesterday. Every time he won a hand, he giggled proudly.

"Reece, it's not good to be a sore loser. But at the same time, it's wrong to be a gloating winner. Your sister is not whining about losing, and it's not nice when you laugh every time you win another hand."

I expected him to chew on my words, then to willingly apologize to his sister for laughing, as is his nature. His response?
"Sorry you losed, Sis."

Toni

Nice matters.

De over at Just Another Day in Paradise has bestowed upon me the NICE MATTERS award. I refer you to the official definition.
************
"This award is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and
those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world. Once you’ve been awarded please pass it on to 4 others who you feel are deserving of this award."
************

Now, coming from De, it's a nice award (pun intended). And that's because De is nice. She's nice and she's funny. She's nice and funny and compassionate. She's nice, funny, compassionate and loves the Lord. Oh, and she homeschools so she earned a few (g'zillion) brown nose Brownie points with me there. I just really enjoy reading De's blog for a multitude of reasons, but one of the best reasons? Well, De is,...NICE!

So, why did she give this award to me? Hopefully because I have posted a few nice things here as well. And definitely because God knows I need to hear this message, "Nice Matters", again and again. For her encouraging reminder that nice matters, I say THANK YOU, DE!

And so? I pass the nice torch to the following very nice bloggers;

Miss Sniz.
Not only can I attest to her niceness (I met her in person recently), but I can promise you'll love to laugh with her. She's the real deal so show her some Bloggy love.

Jeanine at Roots.
Just read up on how deeply this momma loves her children and you'll be thinking "nice" for sure.

Mayhem and Miracles
Oh, what a heart she has for hurting children. That's the ultimate nice if you ask me. And on a smaller (but cool) note, her new blog design is nice too (do take a look at what she had to say about it.)

Kerry over at And Baby Makes Four. Kerry is nice *and* she's also part of the extensive airline "fam", a flight attendant who posted a very funny video that expresses how she'll feel about returning to work soon after an extended leave. Kerry, I still laughed out loud when I watched this again. You're a hoot.

In all seriousness, I do come into contact with so many nice folks in Blogland. These ladies are but a sample of the many ways blogging has blessed me. Oh, and Big Doofus Blog, I would have given you a NICE MATTERS award too, but I figured a pink award with a stylish shoe was a bit over the top for a man blog. Now a pink bag with a little read heart on the other hand...?

Toni

WATCH OUT FOR THAT SWING

It goes without sayin', but I'll say it anyway. GET. OUT. OF. HER. WAY. And her brother's technique? Well, just you wait and see below.

BOWL-O-RAMA part deaux

Yes folks, he's going to be 6 soon. Our little shrimp boat. As we revisit bumper bowling, do note his one step "approach from afar" is the ultimate in one-step delivery (if I do say so myself).

In which I take my licks in bumper bowling.

We took the kids bowling yesterday. Now, we had to wonder what kind of hee-hawin' good time it was going to be when the lanes promoted Sunday afternoons as family friendly and "smoke-free from 1pm to 5pm." They also threw in "all games ½ price." And since trying to focus on pins in a smoke-filled alley is like trying to land an Airbus in quarter mile visibility, this seemed like a good selling point to us. And wait! We got to keep some money in our single income pockets too? Sign us up!

Nothin' like good form to knock 'em down.

We decided to go with bumper bowling so the kids could stand a chance of actually hitting a pin (you don't know our kids, do you?) Sure, it would take some fun out of it for Carl and I, but it's not about us. Right? Bumpers up.

Oh, and now would probably be a good time to tell you that bowling is my "fuse poppin'" set point.
Because friends? Lil' confession to make.

I.
Can't.
Bowl.

My dad was and is an awesome man of the pins. And he did take us several times while growing up. And Girl Scouts also tried to make a bowler out of me. But the thing is, when a girl is double jointed in her wrist and elbow and can (literally) turn her hand over 360º in her lap (all together now,..."FREAK!"), it's really hard to keep straight form as you release the ball.

One might say that ball can go just about anywhere. In fact, it always does. Because try as I may to send it down the center of the lane, the ball makes a complete fool out of me. Which always stirs a laugh in Carl no matter how hard he tries to stifle it. And I do mean an all out "tears welling up" robust laugh at my expense (I do try to keep him happy; after all, I'm a giver.)

So, back to the lanes. I typed our names in and put us up "on the big screen", noting that only our first initials actually displayed. Now, as insignificant as that small detail might seem to you, it really bothered me. Why? Because when you stink at bowling as much as I do, and when you stink at bumper bowling even more, I have to believe that others saw the "M" for Mom on the big screen and mistook it as "M" for moron (click on image below for this reality in all its glory.)

Need I say more? (btw, notice the flash couldn't help but shine on the real star of our bowl-o-rama, the DAD.)

And I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that my kids weren't helping our public image all that much. I mean, Reece was getting bumper spares, then jumping up and down like a sugared up Kangaroo, yelling, "Strake!"
Yes, S-T-R-A-K-E.

No need to get anywhere close to the line. Just let 'er ride!

And Cierah rather loudly expressed her gratitude several times during our game;
"Thank you for bringing us golfing, Mom."
"Bowling. It's BOWL-ING, honey."

And I might have wanted to grab my little Clampetts ducklings and leave at that point, had I not been made to feel more comfortable by a helpful employee with a shaved head and a "Git-R-Done" tee shirt on. That's when I knew we were in harmony with the lanes (I'm not positive, but I think I might have felt the room spin in that moment.)

I honestly think I might have bowled my worst game ever too, but I'll never know for sure because the bumper was there to force me into some mulligan pins (hey, my 4 year old thinks we were golfing after all). I cannot tell you how many times I hit that bumper, but I'm going to guess 60-70%? All together now,..."PATHETIC!" Thanks. I know. And it only took until the 8th frame before I finally got a strike (no spares prior). A strike in the 8th frame in BUMPER bowling. Really, how pathetic is that? (Don't you dare answer.)
"Maybe they won't notice that I only scored a three, a THREE, in the frame following my strike. A three! In bumper bowling."

And where else can one lament, "I'll stand a better chance of picking that lone pin off if I just go for crazy random banks off the bumpers."

And if using kiddie bumpers as a crutch to stay in the game isn't bad enough, just add in a dose of genu-ine encouragement from a well meaning spouse on the last frame.

"Honey, I don't mean to put any pressure on you, but you need to hit at least two pins if you want to come in third place."

Well isn't that special. I "only" needed to hit two pins to take third place. Did you get that? Third? Did you get that I'm bowling with just one other adult? Which means I was about to be defeated by Art Begotti and someone from the 4 to 8 year old range. In BUMPER bowling. This was so not good for my ego.

Burritos Bowling balls as big as your head!

Well, as you can imagine, God is not big on egos. He does what He has to to tilt our chins upward so we can fix our eyes on Him. And I'm pretty sure He did that on the lanes yesterday, by allowing me to be outbowled by an 8 year old. In bumper bowling.
Why is it still so hard for me to admit that out loud?
It is with great humiliation humbleness that I accept my lowly place in the bowling world.

I'd say I needed a smoke when we left the alley, but (thankfully) I'm not a smoker. So I will say this. If ever there was a desire to launch myself face first into a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts, yesterday was it. Oh, and if you don't know who Art Begotti is, you'll have to consult Junior Asparagus in Larry Boy and the Fib From Outer space.

1 Corinthians 1:31 That, according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.

Toni

Mmmm, it's chewy good eatin'.

Don't get me wrong. My kids'll take a pound of sugar over the crunch of a carrot stick any day (that is, unless I first dip it in honey and then a pound of sugar.)

Thankfully, there is one "snack" I make that they all enjoy. And I enjoy that I didn't have to add a single grain of sweet white "Hype'm Up." Never mind that raisins and dates have sugar content of their own. Because you can delight in the fact that they also have good fiber content and raisins have good antioxidant content as well (not that I'm all "in the know" on nutritional content, because well, it's hard to be diet-wise when you lived on fast food for much of your young adult life it's a bit of a stretch.)

So, just what is this mystery snack, you ask? Well, I like to call it my Fruit Chewies recipe (I use the word "my" lightly because I actually borrowed this recipe and don't recall the source.)

So, fruit chewies. They're really good (if you're not really picky), healthy, EASY to make (five ingredients easy), and tasty. The texture is, um,...moist(ish) chewy granola?
And folks, no need to pig 'em down in one binge. You can refrigerate or freeze them (I make the double batch recipe that follows, freezing half of them). BON APPETIT!
(from top left, clockwise): oats, raisins, mashed bananas, dates, egg whites.

Fruit Chewies

4 medium ripe bananas
4 egg whites
8 oz bag chopped dates
3 cup rolled oats (not instant)
1 cup raisins

In large bowl, mash bananas, leaving some small chunks (should be about 2 cups)
Mix in egg whites then dates. Mix until dates are thoroughly coated and separate. Stir in raisins. Stir in oats. When all oats are
moistened, set aside to rest for 10 minutes.


Preheat oven to 350ºF and spray cookie sheets with Pam. Using two teaspoons, place spoonfuls of mix onto pan, flatten with
back of spoon (note: this step will not "feel" like dropping cookie dough; it will take a little more effort to shape these like a cookie, as the ingredients won't want to "stick" all that well until baked.)

Bake 20 - 25 minutes or until edges are golden. Let cool on pan a
couple minutes before removing with a spatula. Cool then store in
airtight container in refrigerator, or freeze.
I yield about 4½ dozen with this recipe.

Toni

Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold.

I recently exchanged similarities in blogland with Miss Sniz. We're both previously employed in the airline industry (she as a flight attendant and I as a customer service agent), both Christians and stay-at-home homeschooling moms. Our husbands love the Cincinnati Reds ("Love the Reds" sounds too Valentine's Dayish; I meant to say, DIE HARD REDS FANS! Now that sounds manly man.) And her youngest and my oldest are the same age.

That's plenty in common, yes? But wait, here's the most incredible part. She lives a stone's throw from me. We're in the same town just 1-2 miles away.
What were the chances? I mean, really.

So, today we did the next logical thing. We met! Now, if meeting a stranger seems nerve wracking to you, let me assure you this was just not the case with us. Miss Sniz and I talked with ease in the blazing heat and humidity. I'm groaning a little too because it was I who checked the extended forecast and concluded that today would be "the coolest day of the week" to meet. Um, that forecast was downright wrong just a bit flawed, as "the coolest day" came and went two days ago. Why wasn't I in the know? Our poor kids played but felt wilted.

Okay then, so surely I impressed Miss Sniz with my Roseanna Roseanna Danna hair (which, being naturally curly, puffs up at will in high humidity; not so attractive). And if that didn't do it, I just know my new Dollar Store sunglasses did (uh huh, they were too new.) Seriously though, I'm so glad we got together before our homeschool year begins, which is VERY soon for Miss Sniz' family and just 2 weeks away for mine. I look foreward to her company again some time soon.

Btw, I do suggest you stop by her blog and say hello. She is such a funny blogger. What's neat too is that her husband also blogs. So likewise, stop by and give a shout out to Big Doofus blog. He's just as hilarious as Miss Sniz and I find myself literally laughing out loud when reading their blogs. 'Tis good to laugh, don't you agree? Don't miss out then.


And speaking of homeschooling, it appears I'm going to have to write some long term goals for Reece. Here's the thing. He read a short story about a vet to me today, which prompted the following conversation.

"Momma, what's a vet?"
"A vet is a doctor who cares for animals. And can you tell me what you want to be when you grow up, baby?"
"Yes, Momma. I want to be a garage sale-er."
Just let that little ditty settle in while you ponder the "why" of such a comment.

"A garage sale-er. Mmm-hmm. Well, there are all sorts of sales jobs you can have. You could sell medical supplies, insurance, houses, or horses. So,...what do you think?"
"I think I could work for food."

Oh where is that bug-eyed smiley when I need it?
And no, he isn't even slightly aware of those "will work for food" signs held on street corners by people less fortunate than himself.

One more career goal now....
"Or, I could work at that place where the fireworks were."
"Oh, you mean you'd like to be a firefighter?"
(note: our dear friend Dan from OH is a firefighter who reads my blog; HI, DAN!)
"No, momma. Not a fireman. You knoooow. The place where all the lights were and they threw balls at the target to dump people in the water."
(Huh? Think, think.....okay, light bulb on)
"You mean,.....you want to be a carnival worker???"

"YES!
A carnival worker!
That's what I want to be when I grow up."

My little man, a carnie. Who knew?

Toni

Wordless Wednesday: THE TEA PARTY

One minute you're defending the whole galaxy, and, suddenly, you find yourself sucking down Darjeeling with Marie Antoinette... and her little sister.
~Buzz Lightyear, Toy Story.

More WORDLESS WEDNESDAY particpants can be found here.

Toni

Another Letterboxing trip.

We went on another letterboxing trip yesterday. It was SMOKIN' HOT outside, as in 95º with brutal humidity. Now, this may sound like complaining, but honestly I'm not. Because the fact is, I'm not a winter person at all. In You might even recall this entry from a past Thursday Thirteen;
Friends wanted us to go skiing with them. "Oh sure, let's hit the slopes." Only, I didn't know how. I must have been a silly sight when the ski lift arrived at the top of the hill and I fell out. But I topped that when I skied like greased lightning down the hill, no clue how to break my speed or come to a stop. I was passing others like an Olympic champ, then gave out a banshee cry when I realized I might hit a crowd at the bottom of the hill. They moved out of the way just in time for me to discover a ditch, which I had no way of navigating around or stopping in front of. So I did what any new skier would do. I acted all cool as I flew across it and the front of my skis dug into the other side, dumping me right in the icy water. Pridefully, "I'm good. I'm good. No really, go back to your skiing'. I just lost track of my own speed is all."
See? I'm not complaining about our very hot summer because I dread winter moments such as that.

So, we drove about 45 minutes west and visited three covered bridges. We love covered bridges. We've seen all the bridges of Madison county, IA (twice) and now we're enjoying the covered bridges of IN. And searching for the letterboxes made it even more special. We did find all three. But not without a few Toni moments.


First, as we drove along the state route, Carl thought we might be lost. I was sure we were headed in the right direction, but he asked me to pull out our laminated map and check to be sure. Okay then. 60 mph, windows down, hot as liquid tar and I'm going to fulfill my map reading duties as first officer on this little trip. Now, the timing of this is key. It all happened in a matter of 3 seconds.

"Get the map out and see if we're off course."

"I think we're fine, but okay."

Pull map out and THWOOOOOP! Gone.
Baby was sucked clean out the window.
I was puzzled for an instant, then matter-of-factly stated, "She's gone."
Begin hubby groan sound effects NOW.

Yep, in a matter of three seconds, that map was sucked right out the window and I, realizing it was our only chance to determine whether we were on our way to Greencastle or Greenland, did what any concerned and responsible adult would do.
I. laughed. my. tail. off.

Even Carl realized how funny it was (that is, after he u-turned the van and sent me walking along the highway to reclaim our prized navigating tool).


The plastic container (and contents) with lid is the letterbox. Notebooks, bag of stamps, ink pad and pen are ours.

All said, it was a long letterboxing day and we got back about 10pm, having stopped for pizza on the way home.

Where I then realized and inquired, "Has anyone seen my purse?"

Not a good question after spending hours in the 95º heat with 3 kids and a tired baby. Not a good question when hubs knows he might have to search under covered bridges at midnight. The drive alone would be agony, but to get out there (in the middle of nowhere) and search with a flashlight........Ewwww! Remember those scary stories about the hook on the car door? No way was I going back out there.
Even if it was I who lost the purse (gulp).
Oh, and never mind that our social worker from Ohio was flying in today, which would have meant Carl would be reaaaally tired for her visit if he had to drive back and search for my purse.

I'm happy to say that like an American Express rebel, I dared to leave home without it. We found my purse (eventually, after a crazed 10 minute search) safely stashed away where it belonged. Where I never keep it, yet where it belonged. You know how it is.

Oh, and one more thing. Just in case y'all didn't know, I'm a complete country girl at heart. Before we moved to IN, we lived on 3.5 acres in the country and I miss it tremendously. My soul finds so much peace and respite in the country and it's instantaneous, like a huge weight lifted off my chest. So imagine how I felt when we got to the second bridge and THIS was my view out the other side. Isn't God's creation GRAND?!!!

Toni

SORRY FOLKS, PARK'S CLOSED

Because we like to live by the "life imitates art" philosophy, we hear a few particular words a lot.

"Sorry folks, park's closed."
A LOT!

Lessee, there was that time last January or so, where we made big of our upcoming trip to the Children's Museum. Our kids were sooo excited (our Children's Museum is arguably the best in the country) and they couldn't wait to get their hands in the dirt (literally, in the dinosaur dig). We got there and thought, "Wow, Mondays are GREAT! Nobody is here and the museum is all ours." Only part of that sentence proved true. Nobody was there.
"Sorry folks, park's closed."

Then there was this past week. We promised the kids one more trip to a local swim park. Being the procrastinating, "wing it" resourceful mom I am, I had checked out the website and knew (lol, "knew") there was an evening swim this past Wednesday. Perfect. It's stinkin' hot here right now so the evening cool off had great appeal. I shared the plan with Carl, then made sure dinner would be ready when he got home from work, had the kids suited up and packed all the needed garb (towels, a book for me, baby bottles and so on). In a word? Rearin' to go (oops, that's three words.) The kids were sooo excited as we made the short drive to the pool. Only,.......
"Sorry folks, park's closed."

Oops! I got my days mixed up. I knew the night swim was on Wednesdays. Only, we were there on Tuesday (a.k.a. Wedneday in Toni's World). Yeah, OOPS!

So, what's a parent of three disappointed, swim-ready kids to do? Why, go back the next night of course.
"Never fear, kids. Mommy made a mistake. Tonight's not the swim night. Tomorrow is. No problem. Daddy will just bring us back tomorrow night. Right, Daddy?"
(insert big, cheesy "Oops, I did it again" convincing smile here).

I mean, what could he say? So, what's one more day of driving home from work in the scorching heat (hubby's a/c is dead in his truck), gulping down your food so fast that it's an automatic belly sinker (not good when you're headed to a pool), suiting up 3 kids and packing umpteen baby items so you can do it all again. Right? RIGHT???
And that's exactly what we did. Groundhog Day. All the way. You've seen that movie, yes? Where Bill Murray keeps reliving the same day over and over.

And so it was with our swim adventure. For, now it was Wednesday.
The RIGHT day.
Make no mistake about it.
We were there on a Wednesday night.
Just like the website said.
And there were only about five other cars there.
Oh, delight!
"Wednesday nights are great. Nobody's here and the water park's all ours."

Sound familiar? It should. Because only part of that sentence proved true.
Nobody was there.
"Sorry folks, park's closed."
(a la Groundhog Day.)

And that's exactly what the manager said to us. See, our tax dollars fund some really great "stuff" here. Great schools with great amenities, great parks and pools, etc. Well apparently, those same tax dollars do not pay for great upkeep on local websites. Because great balls of fire, they "forgot" to update the website to say that Wednesday night swims are only in June and July. And, as you know, this would be "hotter than blue blazes" August, and well,.....
"Sorry folks, park's closed."

For those who know where I got that line, btw, I could swear I heard a little song playing in the background as we trodded back to our minivan, heads hung low.
"Holiday Ro-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oad. Holiday Ro-o-o-o-o-o-oad."

And I kid you not, as we waited for the gate to open (the one that never did open), our kids played in the palm tree shower that stands in that entry way. And I had to go and make a joke, didn't I.
"You kids are having so much fun in that palm shower, I'm thinkin' we won't need to go inside the park after all."
[giggles and smiles]
"Nooooo! We want to go swimming."
"Aw c'mon. Save your dad and I a buck."

Holla back with me now...
"SORRY FOLKS, PARK'S CLOSED!"

(post script: Of course, if you've never seen National Lampoon's Vacation, half this blog entry won't make sense. Just go with it, okay? Things in Toni's World are often occasionally skewed like that anyway.)

Toni

LETTERBOXING

We took the kids letterboxing yesterday. The heat was brutal, but we did our best to have a good time in spite of it. If you haven't tried letterboxing yet, let me suggest that you do.

What is letterboxing? It's a wonderful hobby that includes orienteering, map reading, and puzzle solving. It also allows one to engage in hiking, artistic expression, and "treasure" hunting. In a nutshell, it's F-U-N! By the way, not to be confused with geocaching, which is similar in many ways but involves purchasing a global positioning system and relying on coordinates to find the hidden cache.

Letterboxers take part in hunting for and/or hiding containers in remote and/or hidden locations. These locations are unlimited, but often involve parks or other nature settings. They can also involve buildings such as libraries, amusement parks, and more. The possibilities are endless.

What you'll need;
-a rubber stamp that represents something about you and/or your family. It can be purchased, or (better yet) hand carved. The latter does not need to be overly fancy. A single significant word or symbol carved into a rubber eraser will suffice.
-your own ink stamp pad.
-a small notebook (we prefer index cards due to the durable card stock)
-a pen
-appropriate protective clothing where needed (ie. poison ivy risk)

Once you've tried it and discover how much you like it (because I just know you will), do consider adding to the letterbox fun by placing a few letterboxes of your own. We plan to place a homeschool themed box and an adoption themed box sometime in the future.

There are many sites online that will give you the needed clues to locate letterboxes in your area. Some letterboxes are super easy to find (many are, actually.) Others require solving a riddle or following encrypted instructions. But plan to find several in a day (sometimes one goes MIA) and the hunt is on!

When you locate a letterbox, you'll find the placing letterboxer's rubber stamp and small notebook inside. You'll use their stamp to mark your notebook and you'll use your stamp to mark theirs. You'll want to sign and date their notebook before carefully replacing the letterbox, being careful to neither draw attention to what you're doing nor to leave the box unhidden and exposed. Shhh, you're part of a secret "club." You'll also want to be very respectful of the property you're on and the nature you're impacting.

In your own notebook, be sure to add the date and location where you found the letterbox, plus any other significant information (ie. we were in a cemetery yesterday and wrote in the "established" date.)

The thing that is so cool about letterboxing is that it's totally portable. If you're taking a vacation out of state or even just taking a long drive away from home, you can get online and track down a few letterbox jaunts to make along the way. It beats collecting postcards (not that I have anything against that hobby).
And it's fun for all ages too. We enjoy it as much as each of our children.

Now, here are a few sites filled with great information. Check it out, and do post back here if you take that first letterbox "fieldtrip."

Letterboxing North America
(The faq's on this site are terrific. You'll even find "how to" carving information for your personal stamp.)

Atlas Quest
(great site for locating boxes.)

Toni

It's never too late to have a happy childhood!

My most recent Thursday Thirteen post has been weighing on my heart. Not just the post itself, but the the whole reality that childhood is so much more "sterile" than it was just a generation ago. The freedom we experienced is gone, some of it robbed by the harm that sick individuals would wish to inflict on our children, some of it gone due to a shift in values (a very broad statement that covers many sad realities), some of it now simply buried as outdated and unfit for modern times. Still, I soooo wish my children could taste what they're missing.

So yesterday, I came up with just that; a way they could at least sample the freedom of discovery that I experienced in my own precious days of childhood. It's their world, after all. Their one chance to live out those fleeting moments in the midst of this season. And so here's what I did (keeping in mind that it was 93º and humid here yesterday, but I'm happy to report that nobody melted away).

I gave them free reign to go and explore (I can't fathom that my words left a surprised look on their faces, but sadly it's true.) I slathered everyone down with 50 SPF sunscreen, loaded up the baby in the stroller and told them I only needed to be able to have them in "eye-shot" range. Liv ventured off on her bike, while the littles went on foot. They chose to head into the neighboring development where there is a tree lined roundabout.

They sat in the shade in that circle and watched ants, collected acorns, compared different leaf types, opened seeds, touched and talked about moss on the north side of the trees, read the street signs up close, etc. When they got hungry, they ate sandwiches and drank bottled water that I had packed for them in the shade of the roundabout. You'd have thought I took them on some majorly fun picnic.

They then chose to explore another cul-de-sac (we live on one) and smelled Morning Glory as they declared, "Hey Mom, the leaves look like hearts," felt the rough heads on cone flowers, blew on cottony dandelion seeds and watched them fly away, noticed that arrows spray painted on the curb point to the water manholes, took interest in someone's small landscape water fountain, explored the receding banks of our pond, etc. etc. etc.

Or,...
We could have sat inside all day.

And on a lesser note, 5 year old Reece just came in and asked, "Mom, if we eat too much cold cheese, we'll die, right?"
"Cold cheese" is any brick cheese to Reece, who greatly dislikes processed cheese slices and will only eat "cold cheese." Nothing like processing the concept of death by Gouda before you've had your second cup of morning coffee.

Proverbs 6:6
Go to the ant, O sluggard;
consider her ways, and be wise.

Toni

THURSDAY THIRTEEN

Thirteen childhood memories that make me want to go back. I'll guestimate that 98% of the moms in my neighborhood were home. Which means 98% of the kids were home as well. The playmate possibilities were endless. Being reasonably safe when out of eye shot of our parents. We had freedom to explore the neighborhood, go "down the street" alone to play with a friend, etc. The simplicity of television. Three channels plus fuzzy UHF (which might have added three more at best.) The Waltons. The Brady Bunch. The Courtship of Eddie's Father ("People, let me tell you 'bout my best friend..."). Little House on The Prairie. Family Affair. Candid Camera. Truth or Consequences. Walter Cronkite. And does anyone remember KIMBA the White Lion? If so (and even if not), check it out online. I'm thinking Disney majorly "borrowed" this show as a model for The Lion King. Our bicycles; monkey handlebars, banana seats (with that little metal loop at the back that was perfect for your "passenger" to hold on while "doubling" together), and the "must have" decorations (the basket, bell, streamers, and the lovely sound of the spoke straws) The great toys! Hotwheels, Crissy Dolls (I picked one up at a Thrift store recently), Slinky and Magic 8 ball, paper dolls, close-n-play (remember warping the speed on the lp's?), Kenner's SSP racers with the "work you over" t-straps, Mrs. Beasley, Romper Stompers, kites, Easy Bake oven, Shaker Makers, Lite Bright, Crazy Wheels and Big Wheels....and and and...(feel free to add your own in comments) Watching all the holiday specials in REAL TIME. No videos. No airing multiple times on multiple stations. "Once and ONLY once" was the order of the day. And it was BIG BIG news when your parents told you that Friday night was "it." Charlie Brown Christmas was coming on (with its bold Christian message). Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, The Little Drummer Boy (could we have cried any more over that poor lamb who didn't stay "dead"?), The Walton Christmas Special, Santa Claus is Coming To Town. Oh, and who remembers the Norelco Santa Christmas commercial? Did that rule or what?! Knock knock Zoom zoom. Kick the Can. Spud. Hide and Seek. Kickball. Red Rover. Neighborhood baseball. Jump rope. Tag. We played all these and more on a REGULAR basis because there were actually kids home to play REGULARLY with. The lack of materialism that is so prevalent today. Anyone recall when we didn't wear brand name logos? Brilliant advertising move on their part; that we should wear their logos, a la free advertising for them, as "status symbols." Remember when we didn't wear $80 tennis shoes to school? We pretty much wore only one pair of shoes for that matter. And we didn't carry Coach and Prada and Kate Spade handbags? And we didn't "need" the latest technology? And our swing sets didn't cost $1500 or more? I realize some of this equates to better quality (though all "better quality" is not truly necessary) but my point is, times were much more simple. Remember when we didn't "need" a dual income? Captain Kangaroo (need I say more?) Talking with the garbage men, street cleaners, mailman or firemen (remember when they would service the hydrants and kids could sit in the high pressure water and be pushed along on their behinds in the tree lawn?) We had the same mailman for eons back then. The milkman (loved those metal coolers), Avon lady, Encyclopedia Britannica sales rep, or HOME photography photo session (anyone?). Laying in the grass and "seeing" things in the clouds, noticing the "milk" in a dandelion, discovering that a blade of grass makes noise when held taut and blown on, watching potato bugs roll and unroll, trying to catch butterflies, lightning bugs and birds, checking on tadpoles, running barefoot in the grass. Imagination and creativity were the order of the day. Wii who? Electronic what? (remember when Merlin was "big"? Oh how far we've progressed.) We were OUTSIDE, being Kings of Kingdoms, damsels in distress, racers in a great continental bike race, jockeys on "horses", tigers, bears and other wild things, daydreamers, risk takers, cops and cowboys, pirates and more. There was just no end to the ways in which we imagined. And there was no home air conditioning, b'zillion channel tv programming or mesmerizing video games to inhibit us. For those who have been there and know what I'm talking about, I can honestly say,... Those were the days. And now, if you're feeling retro, do stop by here for a "full up".

Visit other "thirteeners" here!

Toni

What's buggin' me!

My Olivia cannot get enough of creepy crawly creatures. She collects rubber bugs. Searches for insects in the grass with a talking magnifying glass. Even studies dead bugs (don't get me started on the dragonfly carcass we once kept in our garage for weeks, or the tarantula sized garden spiders she "oooooh"ed and "aaaaah"ed over at our old house.) She has allowed a real tarantula to crawl on the front of her dress and immensely enjoyed holding a legless lizard. And she was near tears when she wasn't selected to hold the hissing cockroach or the giant scorpion. As if!

I can tell you she did not get this passion from moi. NO! Carl can tell you about the time we were driving along and a bee flew into our car. I was hysterical as it buzzed around my calves, screaming crescendo style, "Stop. StoP. StOP. STOP! ST-OOOOOOOOO-P!!!" while Carl saw no urgent reason to pull over and let me out of the car. I'm still considering therapy for that incident, ten years after it occurred. And Mr. Smarty Pants my dear husband still laughs heartily at the mere mention of that day.

There was the time I nearly lost my lunch because a horsefly hit Carl in the forehead and lay dying on his lap as we drove along a country road. I was so sickened by the sight of it that I couldn't tell him what I knew until he pulled over and I got out of the car. Why did *I* have to get out of the car? Well, I feared that if I told him, he might glance down to his lap, creep out and FLING the ugly beast my way (in which case his rusty CPR skills might have needed a quick polishing).

And perhaps the most hysterical bug incident might have been the time I walked in from the garage and began to chat with Carl, who was holding sleeping baby Olivia. As I talked, I noticed he had a contemplative gaze that didn't fit my chit chat. I finally zipped my yapper and it was his turn to say something. And I immediately sensed something was wrong, because he spoke slowly and softly, like a family member delivering devastating news to a loved one.

[pitch slowly rising]"To...ni?"

[me, repeating the uphill pitch] "Wha....at?"

[tone soft and cautious] "Reach up veeeerrry slowly and remove your hat because....."
[hysterical tone on my part] AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! GET IF OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

I tell you, I threw that hat and danced around the family room like a crazy mad moth woman about to throw herself into the flame. There had been a bee on my hat and Carl knew if he told me I would completely freak out. Gosh, I'm so glad I didn't completely freak out with his more subtle delivery.
And the worst part of that story is...
When I threw my hat off, the bee landed on Carl who was holding a sleeping infant. And now *I* had to get that blasted beast off him. ME! The one who was doing the death dance through our family room just moments before. It was TORTURE, I tell you.

So now then, I'm sure you can better appreciate it when I tell you I was driving along last night, returning home from picking up our truck that needed a new battery. I had some tunes on and the window down. I was meandering along, minding my own bee's wax when,....BAMM!!! OUCH!

Oh!
My!
Gag reflex!

I quickly realized that something had come through the window and hit me in the eye. And I realized that the something had buzzed. And buzzing means bugs. And bugs means FREAK! As in FREAK O-U-T! And my heart began racing. And I was no longer pretending to be Christian recording artist Mark Shultz. And the chatter of my kids in the back seats blurred into white noise as I tried to remain calm.

Only, I wasn't calm. In fact, I was beginning to panic. What was that creature? Worse yet, where was it now? I considered pulling over but it was dark outside and there wasn't really a great spot to do so (and besides, I just knew that a "No-See'm" army of bugs was waiting outside my van for me, no doubt sending that flying lone soldier out to trick me into pulling over.) Uh uh! I was three minutes from home and I was determined to get there pronto, albeit it swatting at my hair a b'zillion times just in case something was all boogered up in it (Rosanna Rosanna Danna hair is good for that, after all.)

Unaware of the increasing speed of my van (Carl was behind me and wondered why I was suddenly accelerating, lol), I drove home in a manic state. There might as well have been a python tossed through my window because I was about that scared. MUST! GET! OUT!

Down the cul-de-sac, threw up the sash (a.k.a. garage door) and zipped up the drive. Threw'er in park and literally FLEW out of my van. People, I was holding back my dinner and not at all sure I could brave having to looking back inside the van for the source of my terror. But the thought of driving again with an unidentified "what's it?" on board compelled me to swallow my rising reflux and peer inside.

And there it was (gag, swallow).
A Japanese Beetle.
And I'm all, "That is the most disgusting bug I have ever seen!"
And Carl was all, "We used to tie those up on one leg with a little piece of string and let them fly around our heads."
And I'm all, "Somebody better shut their gob hole before I lose it right here in the garage in front of all the neighbors!"
And Carl was all laughing.
At me.
Because of bugs.
(Again.)

With as much dignity as I could muster up, I grabbed my purse, turned on my heels and walked gracefully into the house, stating matter-of-factly, "Please get that beetle out of the van, thank you very much!"

And off I went (gagging still, but Carl doesn't need to know that).

I waved goodbye to Carl this morning. I was standing in the garage as he backed out.
I waved.
He waved back.
I waved again. At least, I hope that's what he thought. Because as is the story of my life, something buzzed all up in my hair just as he headed down the road.

I KID YOU NOT!

Toni