A tropical heat wave

I do believe it's the hottest summer I've ever experienced in my life. It's somewhat of a source of amusement, though, as my kids gripe and whine, "We're so hhh-ooOoo-ttt! It's soooo hot out today."

Okay, yes.
Yes, it is so "hhh-ooOoo-ttt!" (oh, the drama)
Deal with it.
"Why, when I was your age, I had to walk three miles through blinding snow up to my chest...."
Wait.
Wrong story. That's the one my parents told me.

Let's try this again.

"Why, when I was your age, we didn't have any air conditioning. It was hotter inside the house than outside. The spot directly in front of the fan was most coveted, and we sat in front of it any chance we got, even against our moms' warnings that we were going to get Bell's Palsy."
Now, my kids have actually asked me before if I lived in horse and buggy days, so you know this little "fans instead of air conditioning" story lands my fanny back in Walnut Grove from their point of view. But hey, if it stops the whining...

Thankfully, we discovered a wonderful treasure to assist us in our efforts to beat the heat here in central Indiana. Now, I should preface this by saying I grew up just 25 minutes from one of the great lakes. If you've never seen any of them, just picture the ocean, only calm.
When I lived in San Francisco, I even had friends ask, "Can you see the other side from the shore?" (giggle, giggle)

No.
No, you cannot see to the other side while standing on shore. That said, you can see to Canada on a very clear day from the top of some of the roller coasters at Cedar Point (the greatest amusement park in the nation, hands down!) It's just a distant hint of shoreline, but yes, you can see it.

So, back to my point. I grew up near Lake Erie and also lived near the Pacific ocean. But a job related move to central Indiana? Um, okay...uh,..but,...where will we swim?
And logically, you'd tell me, "In a pool."
Well, yeah. And they do have wonderful park systems and pools here. But,...
We're land locked. Not so happy a thought for this girl who A) prefers country living and wide open spaces and B) grew up next to Lake Erie and the islands.
In other words, being land locked makes me feel quite claustrophobic at times.

So a few weeks ago, I felt a bit desperate to find some type of beach here (I should tell you we've been here 4½ years already, so I wasn't overly confident that a beach was going to suddenly appear.) There is a large reservoir just to the north of us, but its "beach" is nasty (sure, you can technically swim in the reservoir but there is no beach to speak of, only some icky concrete steps down into the equally icky "beach" water.) Imagine my surprise when I discovered that a state park about 45 minutes from here has, yes, a b-e-a-c-h!

Glory be!

Ironically, we've driven by it many times while on our way to some of our favorite hiking trails.
No indications of a beach noted.
No visuals. No signage. Nothing.
And I've mentioned to several people here that it's hard for us to feel land locked.
No one mentioned this beach.
Perhaps they felt it couldn't compare with a great lake and thus wasn't worth mentioning?
Or perhaps it's not well known.
I don't know.

But it's there and the drive is a scenic one (through the wide open country spaces that my soul literally craves.) And the beach is nestled into a scenic cove.
And it's FUN!


Raccoon Lake, our new favorite beach!
(You needn't remind me it's our only beach. I assure you, I am well aware.)


We spent the entire afternoon there this past Monday, a late continued birthday celebration for Olivia, who turned (gulp!) 11 on July 5th. I made her the coolest birthday cake this year. I wanted something to reflect her new phase of childhood, that of a tween-ager (she's sooo into the "title", lol). So I made her a monogrammed purse cake. Is it the cutest or what? She loved it.


What else is happening in the H home? Well, I am knee deep into homeschool planning. Sheesh, we're headed into our SEVENTH year of homeschooling. I'm reeeeally excited to implement more Charlotte Mason elements into our days. The primary curriculum I use (and love, and endorse) is My Father's World. It takes a classical/Charlotte Mason/Unit studies approach, three elements I'm fond of.

However, I want my children to become more intimately connected with our subject matter. For us, that means more Charlotte Mason. And definitely more creativity on my part. And I'm excited and challenged to inject that into our learning. Oh my, I could plan for months and months more, but alas, I only have about 3½ weeks left before our year officially begins (we do light math and continued reading all summer long.)

One of the "just for fun" things my husband and I wanted to add this year is a class pet. We had talked about a rabbit, a bird, or possibly even a reptile. Since nature study will be a big part of our regular schooling this year, we felt a little friend in the classroom would fit well with our love of nature and living things. As God would have it, one of our church family members needs someone to take over the care of her guinea pig as she heads off to college. So we are adopting Edgar, a brown and white guinea pig who will join our family in the next week. We've already been on the internet, pouring over the "do's" and "don'ts" of cavy care. And we went to You Tube and listened the the various cries and sounds a guinea pig might make and what they indicate.

My kids are coming at me with endless questions, prompted by endless excitement over Edgar's pending arrival.
"Where will we put him?"
"Why did she name him Edgar?"
"What does he eat?"
"Can we hold him?"
"Is he allowed on the furniture?"
"Does he like trains?" (Brandon, age 3, lol)

A summer storm has picked up and my speakers are fritzing, so I'll take that as a warning I better get off this transistorized tormentor.
Please remember to enjoy the rest of your summer days eyes wide open, glass half full. Because they truly are.

Toni

Swinging full circle

I bought Carl a new recliner for our 20th anniversary. After all, nothing could possibly say, "I love you," to a guy like permission to fall fast asleep while watching his favorite sports team.
He's not the jewelry wearing kind, can take a vacation whenever he wants (works for a major airline), and isn't one to want for "stuff." So short of being able to buy him a classic Ford Thunderbird, the recliner was the next best gift. And he truly loves it.
Now that it's here, that is.

We had the option of a $50 delivery charge or picking it up ourselves.
Since we have a pick-up and had tested the weight of the chair before purchasing, we were very confident we could do the lifting(we've done three self-moves with virtually zero help so we're quite the duo movers together.)
The wait for the chair's arrival seemed to drag on and on, however.
"Two weeks. It should be ready in two weeks. We'll call you."
No call.
Kind of hard for them to do that, seeing as they had our number written down incorrectly. Sigh.
So, okay, 5 weeks. Better late than never.

In preparation for bringing the new recliner in, we hauled two of our old recliners out to the curb and posted them free on Craigslist.
No takers. Naturally.
"Load 'em up, honey. They're off to Goodwill before the next round of monsoon rain passes through."
It's been quite the heavy rain and humid summer here.
(And naturally, I got an inquiry about the curb chairs today, two days after they were hauled away.)

Now, kids being kids, we knew they'd love the enormous box the new chair came in, so we dragged it inside (literally; it had to be squeezed through the front door.)
Goodness, that hunk of cardboard has kept them occupied for days now. Three year old Brandon requested to sleep in it. Olivia asked to decorate it. Chance (our dog) has taken the liberty to run in and out of it. It's a boat. A fort. A place to hide. Do NOT throw away your big boxes before letting the kids exhaust their imaginiations with it. Our box has not outlived its usefulness yet.

Our kids' swingset also arrived yesterday. My emotions were high, which may seem silly (it's just a swingset, right?). But you have to know the emotional significance to me. Here's the deal. We built our own home in the country on 3½ acres back in Ohio. It was an absolute dream come true for me. I joined 4-H as a young city girl (the only city girl in my club). I worked at a riding stable (even though I wasn't raised around horses). Being in the country brings a calm over me like nothing else except God's word. Wide open spaces bring such peace and rest to me. Living in the country, I was home.

I could sit on my full front porch for hours, rocking in my Amish made rocking chair (the nearest Amish settlement was 15 minutes away), watching the farmers work the land across the road from me for hours on end. I enjoyed walking my kids in their red wagon to visit the neighbor's horses and cows. I loved riding our lawn tractor. I liked heading to our mailbox at the end of our 200 foot driveway, to gather the day's mail. And the black of night was not at all scary to us, but rather granted the stars their due brilliance, a cosmic experience never noted to that extent in the city.
Not then.
Not now.

And my kids had it good in the country as well.
Caterpillars and butterflies.
Rabbits and o'possum.
An enormous backyard they could safely explore, far away from the potential dangers of our country road.
Rasberries to pick and eat right off the bushes.
Baby birds to hold (I know, I know. But Kideer don't abandon their young for being held. I can assure you.)

And best of all, my kids had the most wonderful Amish built swingset to play on. They ate their lunches in the tower. Learned to "pump and sit, pump and sit" in order to swing high and long. They would put their lego wagon up in the tower, climb in, and ride down the wave slide, screaming with delight, as I watched contentedly from our country kitchen window, or from my place on our big back deck (which faced west, so you can imagine the sunsets for yourselves).

It was a beautiful way of life. Until we had to move away, that is. Dh's job displaced him and we had to sell our dream house in the country. I could barely breathe in the reality of it.
Barely!
Especially when I learned that any of the locations we might have to move to, were beyond our budget for country living. I had lived my dream for 7 wonderful years (for which I'll always be grateful), but it was coming to an end. And to add insult to injury, we couldn't take our kids' swingset with us. We were moving out of state, to an apartment for starters. There was limited room on our moving van, and even more limited space in our storage garage.
It would have to stay behind.

That was 4½ years ago. We finally saved the funds to buy the kids a new set, and it arrived yesterday. The custom builder put it together in the rain. Our kids' noses were literally pressed against the glass windows of our family room as they waited and watched with great anticipation.
7 year old Cierah, apparently inheriting some of the Bunker from her older sister, danced with glee as she announced, "I can't even believe it. It's a nightmare."
Huh???
"Cierah, honey, a nightmare is a very bad dream. What did you mean to say?"
"Oh," (lightbulb finally on), "I meant it feels like a dream."
Her older sister couldn't stop from laughing (takes a Bunker to know one, I guess.)

When the swingset was completed and the man left, literal squeals of delight were heard, among the best I've ever heard from them.
They were absolutely ecstatic.
And so was I.
In fact, I nearly cried (I'm very nostalgic, after all.)

Three year old Brandon asked me today, "Mommy, after breakfast can I go play in my park?"
Oh, sweet boy.
The only swingsets he's ever known in his short life have been in local parks.
He thinks he has one right in his own backyard.

And Reece (gotta love Reece) passed his Dad and I the following comment today.
"Oh mommy, thank you and daddy sooooo much for our new swingset. I love it. It looks hideous because it isn't painted yet, but it'll look better when you put the paint stuff on it."
Yeah, I know. I just chose to receive the thank you in the spirit in which he intended it. ;)

Toni

PAUSE FOR REFLECTION

We interrupt this blog to bring you a message from the youngest contributing member of the H family, as presented to me yesterday afternoon.

Brandon sacheyed into the room, his face contorted in a way that told me his little brain had been in deep thought over some issue of great importance, at least to a curious three year old.

He began.

"Mommy, why do we have two holes in our nose?"

Me, doing my very mom best to stifle the rising giggle from within, "Well, hmmm. I'm not exactly sure, baby. I suppose God decided that's how we could breathe the best?"

Brandon, not buying my attempt to satisfy his curiosity, "No, maybe so we can just pluck dem outa dere, I fink."

Now I could suggest that the plucking of "dem outa dere" would be a refence to boogers, but who am I to judge?
Because perhaps he was referring to loogers or golden nuggets, or even nasal crusties for that matter (just what is the scientific name for boogers anyway?)
I'll leave you to your own devices on this one.

Ah, the joys of!

Now, carry on.

Jeremiah 1:5a
"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart for my holy purpose..."

Toni

"SURPRISE!"

Goodness, I should have known. When the "snack mom" failed to show up at Brandon's baseball practice this morning (leaving six very hot and sqirmy 3 year olds without their just rewards), I should have known.
The day was going to be filled with surprises.
Not the whole gang popping up from behind the couch and merrily yelling "Surprise!" kind of surprises either.
No, more like the, "Oops, I didn't mean to wash those red towels with your white work shirts," kind of surprise (I didn't really do that by the way.)

Okay, so. The first surprise of the day came just before we left to spend the afternoon at the lake. The kids had gathered up the requisite sunscreen, beach towels, sand buckets and shovels. Hubs had packed a cooler full of ice, cold drinks, some shelled peanuts and some juice boxes for the kids. I let the dog outside, planning to kennel him just before we headed out the door. We were almost there when...

HONK! HONK! HONK!

"What's that?" asked hubs.

HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!

"It's a duck. No, a goose. It's definitely a goose. Hear it?"

Oh, I heard it alright. The last time I heard it was about 13 years ago. It was coming from the basement then, and you'd have thought we kept a goose prisoner in some dark basement corner.

Only, it wasn't a goose back then and it wasn't a goose today either.
No, the honk, honk, honking was actually (and unfortunately) the dreaded sound of Bordetella. If that word, Bordetella, sounds like the plague, you'd be close enough to correct. In fact, it was our dog who was making the hideous honking noise.
Our dog, who spent 5 days boarded at the vet while we visited family in Ohio.
Our dog, who came home from the vet on Thursday.
Our dog, who has come down with an active case of kennel cough (a.k.a. Bordetella).

It's not pretty, folks.
It's downright honkity.
He honks until he spits up (a little or a lot, depending on when his last meal or drink was.)
It can last 2 weeks.
I'm counting on 2 days.
Now I just need one of those bumper stickers. You know, "Honk if you're..."
Hey, I know. How 'bout, "Honk if you're TIRED OF CLEANING HONKED UP DOG SPIT!"
Yeah, that'll work.

Moving right along.
Surprise #2.
So we were coming home from Dennys this evening (yeah, that Denny's for those who have been around long enough to remember the great Denny's incident of 2008). The kids were singing in the back seats of our van. Now, you have to know that singing in the van is not some lovely Partridge family experience for us. Oh no, that would be dreamy but no, definitely not our reality. Instead, our kids like to make a nasty little competition out of singing.
Who can sing the most repetitively just to annoy the others?
Who can sing the loudest just to annoy the others?
Who can sing the fastest (you get it by now) just to annoy the others?
(Darling, I know.)

And tonight was no different.
The big annoying sing-off was in under way.
Our little maestros were trying to control one another lead the band for all they were worth.
Their "drive it into the ground" song of choice?
Ultra Man, the theme song (Anyone?)
Sakes alive, that song is annoying!

So they were singing their competitive hearts out, vying for loudest, fastest, most repetitive, when I couldn't take it anymore (the song nor the unkind spirit in which they were "performing").

"You kids stop singing that song this very instance."

Their dad chimed right in as he approached the stop sign.

"I'm with mom. Enough already with the Ultra Man song. If you can't all sing something together without trying to be in control of the others, then don't sing at all."

We rolled on (which became key to the moments that followed).

In the next moment, I found us slowing down on the side of the road, directly next to the "blueberries and rasberries, $2" sign.
Hubs had failed to stop at the Amish farm market earlier today that I had wanted to check out on the way home from the lake.
"Isn't this sweet? He's going to make it up to me by stopping to pick up some locally grown fresh berries. Awwww!"

Amazing how quickly an adoring, "Awwww!" can morph into an, "Aw, shoot!" because I believe that's what happened when I suddenly realized the only blue and red I was going to see right then was from the flashing lights behind us.
Yup, we got ourselves pulled over by the sheriff.

SURPRISE!

Apparently, that "roll on" that we so casually made is illegal in all 50 states.

As in, hubs rolled on, right through the stop sign while yelling at the kids to stop singing.
And thereby broke the law.

It seems the dog wasn't the only one "honking" in the H household today.
I, for one, was honking mad that we got pulled over for something so ridiculous as the Ultra Man theme song distracting us.
No time for 'tudes though.
"You catch more flies with honey," my mom always says.
Time to be very nice to the officer.

Hubs: "If you say I rolled through that stop sign, officer, I'm sure I did. I do apologize."
Me: "We were distracted by our kids' singing, sir. They were getting too loud and I'm sure he must have rolled through as we asked them to settle down."

Sheesh, that was a dorky (but genuine) excuse.

"Licence and registration, please."
"Why yes, sir. That's what I'm looking for right here. Is this it? No, that's a napkin from Taco Bell (duh). Here it is,...wait...no, that's just a receipt from Big O Tires. I don't suppose you want to see that. Goodness, what color am I looking for....oh, never mind, found it. Here you go."

He smiled so politely, then walked away.
I sighed.
Hubs quietly fielded questions from our four kids, who found the whole experience invigorating.
Nothing like watching Daddy about to bite a $100 fine and a few points on the ol' record, eh?
"See, kids, this is exactly why you have to obey. It starts at home and it follows you right into adulthood."
Reece, suddenly laughing: Daddy, what will happen if you just drive away reeeal fast while he's in his car?"
(Honestly kid, you're missing the whole point of the "obey" speech your father just made.)
Me: "He'd go to jail. Now, shhhhhh!"
(Isn't the lack of quiet what got us in this mess in the first place?)

Well, gotta love Officer Love (yes, his last name was actually Love.)
Because the dear man let us go without a ticket.
Just a warning.
Do you know how relieved we were to not be hit with our just punishment? I assure you, we were very grateful.

So the day started with poor Brandon and his teammates not getting their just rewards.
And it ended with us not getting our just punishment.
The officer was very kind to let us off with only a warning.
I'm truly thankful for his extension of grace to us in that moment.

I couldn't help but be reminded of the grace that God the Father extends to us when we place our trust in Jesus as our Savior.
The realization that there is nothing I can do to make God love me more.
(can't earn it through my own merit.)
But there is also nothing I can do to make Him love me less.
(can't destroy it in my human failings.)
Because when Jesus went to the cross to pay the price for all our sins (yours and mine) for all time, God loved me at His very, very best.
Here's hoping you've consciously experienced the grace of God in your life recently. If you haven't, it is my sincere prayer for you, that you will.

Ephesians 2:8
For by such grace you have been saved through faith. This does not come from you; it is the gift of God

Romans 6:23
For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Toni

SUMMER ROADTRIP 2010

We traveled to Ohio to visit family this past weekend, returning here very late on Wednesday night. Oh, how I dislike the long drive (fallout of growing up as an airline brat, I suppose, and having a husband who still works in the industry to this day). I believe I'd take an airplane to Kroger if I could.

It takes nearly 6 hours if attempted non-stop (Yahoo and Google clock it in at 5 hours and 42 minutes), but with the stops we have to make (food, bathroom, playground, bathroom, gas, bathroom, snacks, bathroom, etc.), it's always a minimum of 7 hours for us.


Of course, my family will tell you it only takes "five hours and fifteen minutes" to make the drive between us.
O-n-l-y!
This apparently coming from a long lost relative of Jimmie Johnson, who clearly takes the trip at 80mph on the low side.
Uh hem.

Okay, so. We knew that a tradition was on the line as we made our way to Ohio. That is, Rochester township was having its annual fireworks Saturday night after dusk. Rochester township is nestled in the country not far from our own country home where we lived in Ohio. They hold an annual 4th of July festival, complete with fireworks that few know about (thus the crowd is small). It was an annual tradition for us when we lived there, and we try to make it there every summer if possible.

If we ate in the car on the way and didn't hit any significant traffic, we just might make it in time to spread out a blanket next to the cornfields, under the stars, to enjoy our absolute favorite fireworks display. I'm happy to say it worked. We arrived with enough time for the kids to play the ring toss game and win a candy prize, for Brandon and Reece to ride the cheesy pony ride (think playground merry-go-round), and for the kids to play on the playground while a bad country music band performed live in the background, before settling down on our blanket to see the show. I remember sitting in that same spot in 2004, expressing my sadness to hubs over that being our "last time" at Rochester fireworks.
Little did I know we'd be back again and again.
Such small blessings make me very, very happy.

It was fun to visit Reece's sister, Kimberly, and her family as well. They live in a town by the exact same name as the town we now live in here in Indiana. Cool, eh?
Kimberly and Reece look sooo much alike.
You know how some siblings barely resemble one another, while siblings from another family seem poured from the very same mold? Kimberly and Reece.
They are very obviously siblings.
And I'm getting more and more stirred with emotion as time marches on, seeing the joy on their faces when they are together.
It's PRICELESS.
I'm so glad for them that they are connected in spite of growing up in different adoptive families.

The rest of our time was spent hanging out on my parents' large screened in back porch beating the heat (though the heat was definitely winning), staying up waaay too late to play Canasta with my parents, eating waaay to much, celebrating Olivia's 11th birthday with family, and making time to take the kids to watch my brother fly his R/C airplane and to visit the hummingbird nest that he and my sis-in-law discovered at Sandy Ridge wetlands. I really love spending time with them when we're home.

Our trips home only happen twice a year, and only for a few days. This makes it difficult for us to visit our dear friends whom we miss greatly. However, something neat happened this visit. Hubs and I were taking our daily power walk around town (yes, in the 95 degree blazing heat and humidity) when we heard our name called from a car on the road. We looked up to see our long time friend, Karen, who spotted us walking and took the time to turn her car around to say hello.
How sweet was that of her?

Karen and I met when we worked together at Burger King. We might have been 16 or 17 years old at the time. She is one of the most genuine and kind people I've known. She's also totally funny and I wish I saw her more often because she always makes me laugh.

Since our Burger King polyester days of the 80's, I've run into Karen in so many places. The mall. TJ Maxx. Another small town festival. The Ringling Brothers circus when it came to Cleveland. And now on the street as we walked around the town of our childhoods (melted and sweaty as we were, and with me sporting my Roseanna Roseanna Danna hair to boot). I'm wondering where I'll next see her (she assures me it won't be in Indiana, but I'm not so sure it won't happen, lol.)

Our trip back to Indiana was hot, hot and hotter still. Hubs added frion before we left for Ohio so we did have air conditioning. But we prefer not to use it on long hauls, opting to ride with the windows down instead. Oh my stars, we melted. It was so hot, in fact, that I checked with Nellie the Scab (our G.P.S. who replaced me in my role as trip navigator) for a place to swim. Saw a big lake "kind of on the way" so we headed there to let the kids swim before finishing the trip home. Indian Lake turned out to be just what they needed. It was Brandon's first official time on a beach and he loved it. The kids splashed and swam for a good 45 minutes before we had to round them up and press on toward the end of our journey.
We'll be sure to hit Indian Lake again on future trips de la sweltering blazes.

Hope your 4th was filled with family, fun, and a deep, deep appreciation for your freedoms and privileges as an American. I'm so very proud to call this country my home and I am realizing more with each passing year that freedom is not FREE.
Some paid all. May we never lose sight of that.

Toni