Tidbits

I miss writing.  I am not sure how on earth I can fit it in.  Days blur by.  We homeschool.  We cook and clean.  We tend Grandpa.  We deal with the forest and it's surprises.  I try "to Art" (as my secret brain calls it), but am usually too tired.  So, blog-schmog.

But there are a few things happening that should really be recorded.

Jonah has begun reading.  Really, really reading.  Last year at this time he was agonizing through, "Pat can tap the map.  Tap, Pat, tap!"  One year later, and he is reading a 5th grade chapter book called  Because of Winn-Dixie (which he prounounces WINN-dixie, like Windex).  It is still a struggle.  He still gets stuck on words with b's and d's (bdbdbdbdbdb...wouldn't you?), and we bumble along together slowly, but HE chose the book, and he chooses it again and again every day at reading time.  And he choses every day to try, very, very hard.  I am in awe of him.  And because he loves being read to, he pays me for “extra chapters” in the books I read aloud to him, by reading TO ME for five extra minutes per mom-read chapter.  Deliciously, the author we are currently reading is the master of chapter cliff hangers, always leaving him wanting.

Tessa has begun high school.  It has been a brutal transition.  Tessa was a "casual" student in middle school, not worried or terribly serious.  Very chill.  But she is our first child to hold any interest in College, with its high degree of scholarly expectation.  Her online high school is full of teachers to hold her accountable that don't share her DNA.  She is newly motivated to succeed, and has already been heard to say, "But I'm ALMOST down to a B!!!"  It's uncharted territory for me as a parent.

Ellie is transitioning.  Adulthood is around the very near corner, and she is making plans.  She talks about moving out, and job plans.  She got her covid-belated driver's license today. She suddenly cares about school.  I hear the rustling from within her cocoon.

Adam is thriving in Utah.  He is learning to balance life.  Adam never learned to "hang out with friends" until the last two months of his senior year.  While the sudden joy of that discovery was really a relief to me (isolated and introverted teenagers worry mamas), there was a learning curve that took it's toll on his savings.  He has struck a lovely balance now between work and play, and is expanding his social circle, which was tiny for too long.  He has found a real  love-of-learning about all things Viking, which has expanded to history, archeology, ancient languages and even his own genealogy.  It's a glorious thing to watch, and I have been learning along side him so that I can understand all that he is absorbing.  This week I found myself touring an online Norwegian Viking museum, and attempting tablet weaving.  I failed, but I will keep trying.  I have a goal to make Adam a gift for Christmas; a woven Viking belt, a replica of the one found on the Oseberg Burial Ship.  Yep, I'm geeking out.

Ethan's not very vocal about his world, but work seems good, and he is coping well with lame car disappointments.  Between work and his own personal study, he has piled more skills onto his already broad knowledge of all things mechanical and electrical.  I'm so proud of him.

The sea-sickness Guy was suffering from the wildly rolling waves of his new principal job seems to be subsiding.  He is learning which wheels are truly in need of aid, and which will continue to squeak unappreciative to any amount of oil given.  We are finding a rhythm, which includes some later nights, and my learning an all-new jargon.  There should be an "Orientation for Spouses of New Admins", including a dictionary, program flow charts, and a little training on grief counseling.  The first two months were very hard.  Hard, plus covid.  Everybody is mad at school administrators, as though they knew this was coming and hadn't bothered to plan for it.  "Fair" has lost all meaning in a world where there simply are not answers, where need and demand outnumber available manhours threefold, and where people are screaming to get their never-again "normal" back, and they are screaming it at YOU.  Try stepping into that chaos on your first day.  Hard.  Really hard.

One more thing... I found a new doctor.  It's just the very beginning of what will likely become a long and difficult process.  But I am hopeful that by this time next year, I will show as much improvement in my health as Jonah has in his reading. 

Oh!  And Natalie lost her first two teeth, and one more is starting the dangle-dance.  There is a comfortable, if not slightly sad, predictability in that little detail.  I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that tooth isn't going to be there come Thanksgiving.  

Visions of Tetherball

Gather round, my little chickens, so that I can tell you a story. 

What, you ask?  Another post so soon? Has someone replaced the procrastinating soul that runs this blog with someone with motivation? Indeed!  That’s right! Red toenails!

Anyway, on with our story, that we haven’t even started yet. 

Once upon a time (a few days ago), Ellie, Guy and I took a drive. Remember? 

You were there… in the last post.  Ah, yes, now you remember.

Wait.  Back up.  No, stay there, I will back up...

Lately, I’ve been looking into ways of getting the kids more physically active whilst

sequestered here in our mighty woods.  According to said children, "moving stacks 

of firewood isn’t fun.”  Big babies.

Tetherball seemed like a great fitness fix! The ball can’t bounce down to the creek, 

and it's not a team sport (There is no TEAM in HOMESCHOOL.  There's barely enough for checkers).  I did not however, consider how many times Jonah would be smacked upside the head by the ball in the first week.  Many tears were shed, and bruises were sustained. That kid seriously needs to develop some reflexes.

It just so happens that my kind friend Charrie (pronounced like Sorry, unless you are from Canada, in which case you are out of luck. Sooorry) was getting rid of a tetherball, stand and all! Yay for free! We headed out on a Saturday, and our drive there was uneventful (*cue suspenseful music..."bum bum bummmmmmmmm!")

The first task, Phase I, if you will, was to load the tetherball stand into the back of the minivan.
Charrie's diligent husband had made sure that the base would be tornado-proof by using all of the
cement in the greater Sacramento area with which to fill the tire base. Five people tried
lifting it into the van. Stitches were popped, toes were smashed, and obscenities were... thought of.
It wasn’t working.

(*Tangent that will make sense in a sec*)

There is a magical thing that sometimes happens in my head in the face of certain challenges. It’s really cool. When I look at the problem, a solution fills in the gaps visually. I just see it as a mental vision, as though the solution was already successfully in place. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, it kinda' rocks. Anyway, I suddenly envisioned tipping the pole, top-end-first, into the van and then elevating the tire base with a tire jack, and finally hoisting it carefully up to the level of the bumper.

We did it (well, I was at the pole end, so I mostly watched and tried to keep the pole from ripping a hole in the cloth ceiling). It worked perfectly! There was still the small matter of lifting 200+ pounds the eight or so inches into the van, but with much straining and grunting, it was accomplished. We joyfully congratulated ourselves, then said our hug-less thank-yous and goodbyes. Then, with Ellie in the captain's chair, we began our ascent up the steep driveway.

All was well, until we got to the top.

Pop Quiz: If a ten foot pole with a 2 inch interior diameter is left outdoors in the rain all winter, how much water will dump onto the front seats when the van reaches the top of the driveway?

Answer: Mathematically, 6.18 liters (there’s a formula)... which converts roughly to: one lap, one shoulder, a console, two cup holders, two floor mats, and 1.75 water-bottles full.

Oh, but numbers don't paint a picture! Come now, no more math. Let's paint. We'll use WATERcolors (waka-waka!).

As Ellie rolled to the top of the drive and got over the hump of sidewalk, the van-turned-teeter-totter brought the pole level with mother earth, and sweet, sweet gravity did what she does best baby.

Now children, it's time for a little science: What happens when a level pole full of cold water begins shooting said water out at a rate of approximately, say, a firehose, all over a console, a driver and a passenger? That's right, children, those individuals experience something known in scientific circles as the "What-the-heck phenomenon.” That is when the passenger (the more experienced driver) bellows "Stop!" between a series of "oh-my-gosh-es" and "holy craps.” The less experienced driver, either out of reflex or pure adrenaline, dutifully obeys the experienced driver and mashes down on the brake like she is smashing a rabid spider.

And what, my little ducklings, do we call it when an object in motion meets with no resistance while in motion? Well, to be honest, I had to look this one up, but it is called IN-ER-TIA. You get the gold star. Why, yes, little Sally, it does shoot out at what appears to be a greater rate of speed than the aforementioned firehose. This is called the "Gush Factor.” One might compare it to a large quantity of old water blasting out of a pipe in a minivan. Oh wait, that's what it was.

Well done, all! Gold stars for everyone!

I slapped my hand over the end of the pole like a mom covering the pie hole of a potty-mouthed four year old in the checkout line, a move enhanced by reflexes garnered over 23 years of snatching airborne babies from catapulting face-first off of sofas, and from catching projectile vomit in my bare hands. I called out orders, "Ellie, don't move! Guy, Blanket! Start emptying water bottles!"

My arms in synchronous motion, I staunched the flow with my right hand while crossing under with the blanket in my left to mop up the splash zone. I know you can't picture it, but believe me, it was multitasking at it's finest. Guy and I were like a fine-oiled machine, he passing empty water bottles to me, me passing full ones back to be dumped. Finally, the flow subsided, but we weren't fooled. We knew that at each downhill slant, the sluggish remnants would slop out like baby spit-up (wow, too many mommy metaphors. I really need to get out more).

It was then that I told new-driver Ellie that I wanted her to repeatedly accelerate and then mash on the brakes until our wonderful little friend Inertia was all out of liquid malice, followed by instruction NOT to employ this new skill during her driver’s test. It worked, and as the last trickle drained from the pipe, we smiled, propped it up on the sopped blanket for good measure, and headed home.

Upon arriving home, there was now just the small matter of removing the beast.

Oh, children, you thought you were done with math, didn't you? No, no. One more math problem, just for chuckles:

If it takes Susan and four of her friends to get a 200 lb tetherball pole into a van, what is the ratio of denial to gall that Susan must have to believe she and just two friends can take it back out?

Enter: Laine's cool vision thingy again. Phase II, The Unloading

I suddenly pictured the tire base sitting outside of the van on a large stump, almost level with the bumper. I then pictured it being held with the pole parallel to the ground, as the van was pulled away, unsheathing it like a really weird looking sword. It just so happens there are many giant, super heavy wooden stumps laying about the place, which was mighty handy. Ellie rolled one over, and Guy and Ellie began the process of rolling the base from side to side, in essence "walking" it up to the edge of the bumper, while I directed the pole end around headrests and light covers. Then came the last heave-ho! To be honest, I have no idea how they did it, but Guy and Ellie lifted that beast those few back-breaking inches out onto the stump.

"Okay," Guy said, "Drive away!"

"Me?" For some reason the part of "getaway-car-driver" had been played by Guy in my little mental movie. I hadn't gotten around to telling Guy the next segment of my cognitive cartoon, wherein we used boards to roll the base off the stump to the ground. I pulled the van away and it went perfectly. In the rear view mirror I could see the tire on the stump with Guy and Ellie supporting it. I hurried to put the van back into it's normal space so I could get back to help with lowering the base.

I got out to help with Phase III, The Lowering, just in time to see Ellie and Guy chasing the now very mobile tire doing what tires do best... rolling - yes ROLLING - toward the creek. Let me rephrase that; rolling to the drop off that goes down 30 feet to the creek.

There was screamy-yelling, and then it was over.

This was not in the vision!

*****

No. It didn't roll off the edge. That would have been epic though!

Did I get you?


No, no. Ellie, who is amazingly strong, had sprinted past the cement freight train and stopped the dang thing from rolling off the small cliff. Guy later informed us that if the beast had careened off the ledge, it would have stayed down there forever (not to worry, I’m sure I would have had a vision of exactly how to get it back out).





When interviewed by a perplexed wife later, the husband recounted that Ellie had inquired how they should go about getting the stand down from the stump.

"Just let it go, I guess." had been the answer.

Good advice for a Disney Princess, bad advice for 200 lb rubber coated cement projectiles.

****

In the end I got my tetherball, stand and all. I played it one time, just to show the kids how. And that was the last time.

Turns out, I forgot.

I don't really care for tetherball.

Something Great (times two)

We decided to celebrate 

Adam's great job qualifying for the finals in track.  

And to celebrate Guy's awesome nomination for Teacher of the Year.  

We chose not to wait until after the track finals.  Adam did a great job on his qualifiers.  It was tempting to wait until he had his very last race to see how well he did, but then we realized that we were missing an opportunity to enjoy the "Here and Now".  His success in the qualifiers would be diminished by waiting, win or lose in the final race.

And the same for Guy.  His nomination was special all on it's own.  It was a red letter day, just because it was.

It reminded me of the talk by Dieder F. Uchdorf where he reminds us to "Forget not... to Be Happy Now".

 "If we spend our days waiting for fabulous roses, we could miss the beauty and wonder of the tiny forget-me-nots that are all around us.

This is not to say that we should abandon hope or temper our goals. Never stop striving for the best that is within you. Never stop hoping for all of the righteous desires of your heart. But don’t close your eyes and hearts to the simple and elegant beauties of each day’s ordinary moments that make up a rich, well-lived life.

The happiest people I know are not those who find their golden ticket; they are those who, while in pursuit of worthy goals, discover and treasure the beauty and sweetness of the everyday moments. They are the ones who, thread by daily thread, weave a tapestry ofgratitude and wonder throughout their lives. These are they who are truly happy."

Also, ice cream definitely helps!

An Honor Just to be Nominated

Guy and the Board of Trustees for Sacramento

Guy was Nominated as Teacher of the Year for the Sacramento County Office of Education by a coworker this month.  Yay, Honey!  

This is such an honor.  Twice he has been recognized as Teacher of the Month in recent years, but this is a very different process.  The nomination is just the beginning.  A reception was held the past week to recognize the nominees and to present them with a certificate recognizing this accomplishment (as his wife, I was bubbling over with pride!).  But next, each of the 15 candidates must fill out a lengthy application with essay questions about their philosophies and work ethic to continue on.  There is an interview process, and finally, the committee of administrators meet to select the Teacher of the Year.

Guy doesn't feel deserving.  He has a laundry list of reasons why he is not "that kind of teacher".  

He can't decide whether he should follow through with the process.  He thinks it would be braggy.  He theinks that there isn't anything to brag about.

Let me tell you about Guy as a teacher.

Guy teaches a class of 10 severely disabled students, each from about 12 to 22 years of age.  Their disabilities range from severe Autism, Down's Syndrome, and Cerebral Palsy, to a combination of problems.  One highly challenging student this year has both Autism and Down's Syndrome.  Most of Guy's students are in wheel chairs, most need to be fed, and several have extreme health issues including seizure disorders and feeding tubes.  Many have profound behavior challenges as well.  They need help with EVERYTHING.  And Guy does.  He cares for them with immense respect for their privacy and their spirits, and makes sure everyone of the staff in his room does as well.

This alone would be a full time job, as each must be changed and fed twice while at school, requiring the use of a complicated lifting device for some of his adult sized students, but this is only the beginning of what Guy does for them.  Guy's greatest desire for his students is that they fulfill their full potential.  If they have a skill within their grasp, no mater how simple or how challenging, Guy will develop a program for each individual student to master that skill.  Those skills include washing dishes, doing laundry and dressing themselves, but may be as simple as holding up their head or as unexpected as mastering locating and playing their favorite music on the computer.

But again, these are of the more basic skills Guy teaches.  To me, the most significant things that Guy does for these young people are the intellectual ones.  Guy tries to mirror the academics that their typically developing peers are experiencing.  While some may not understand what is being said, I imagine that some may have great and powerful minds locked inside of bodies that refuse to cooperate with them.  I have read about people who were locked in their bodies due to Cerebral Palsey, or trapped in their own minds due to Autism, until a thoughtful and intuitive person in their lives found the key to that child's communication.  Were it not for computer advancement, the genius Steven Hawking may have been parked in his wheelchair in front of a TV spewing Barney or some other rubbish.  We live in an age where technology makes amazing things possible, and Guy uses them to his advantage.

Guy does unit studies on science, health, art and geography.  He spends a week at a time focusing on different states, teaching the state flag, capital, flower, export and other points of interest.  He does units on other countries, always featuring a feast of delicious foods he makes with his students at the end of each unit.  He takes the kids out on community based instruction outings and gives them the experience of ordering their own food, and paying for their own purchases.  But my favorite thing he does is read.  He reads the classics to his students.  If their typically developing peers are reading Of Mice and Men, so is Guy, out loud, to them.  

To add to all this, Guy also has to arrange and hold progress meetings for each student, coordinating the efforts of nurses, speech and vision therapists, OTs, PTs, and other support services.  He has to deal with parents (sometimes, no, usually not the easiest part of the job), transportation and administration in a far more hands-on way than a regular education teacher would.  He is even responsible to do home visits to check on the welfare of his students.  He must know the law and rights of his students, and to defend them.  He has, on more than one occasion, even had to attend the funeral of one of his students whose fragile health would no longer hold out.

If I were a young student confined to a wheelchair, unable to care for myself; to speak, to make choices on my own - if I were locked in my body and could only choose when to breathe and blink, I would want to be in Guy's class.  I think that in a would where people tend to talk baby talk to students like his, or to ignore them entirely, speaking about them as if they weren't sitting right there, being if Guy's class would be a salvation.  

More than once Guy has been accused of being a glorified babysitter.

That could not be further from the truth.

He is more amazing than the Teacher of the Year committee will ever know, because even if Guy does complete the process, he will never toot his own horn to say how great he really is.

And he really, really is.

*****

I don't know when you will read this, Guy Alan.  Probably weeks or months from now.  But I want you to know that I love you, I believe in you, and I am so, so proud of you.

Congratulations!

A Thousand Words

Enough said.

Somebody's Watching

Somebody's watching,

In big ways 

and small.

Somebody's watching.

Watching it all.

Somebody's listening

somebody hears.

All that is spoken

fills little ears.

Somebody's waiting

to know what to do

Waiting and watching

and following...

you.

Another Trip Around the Sun

My sweetie had a birthday today.

One year better.

The layers of days and smiles and tears all pile up.

We never know what a new year will bring.

The Middles (Ellie and Tess) and the Littles (Jonah-boy and Nat) and I had gone shopping for gifts.  I don't recommend being outnumbered four to one in a public emporium.  The weight of experience carries with it a decrease in speed, or maybe it was just Mall-ing it after 8pm that had caught up with me.  I was tired before we even got started.  

We stumbled into the "As Seen on TV" store, and I wasn't thrilled to be there.  If you want to see 3 kids go nuts, show them every goofy gadget ever sold by a loudmouthed Brit during a commercial break from, The Clapper to Chia Obama.  But it was not just the visual chaos of the store mixed with the zeal of my lil' shoppers that had me feeling off; the last time I was in this store, the shop owner committed a crime against humanity (well, actually my vanity).  He called me a grandma.

Specifically, my kid's grandma.

It was painful, shocking even.  Feeling ancient is one thing, it's entirely another being accused of it by a Mall-bound peddler-man.  Worse yet, when I explained they were indeed mine, he hadn't believed me!  So, the other day when Tessa told me she wanted to get the ultra-cool french-fry cutter for her daddy that she had seen in THAT store, I had to swallow my wounded pride.  Gulp.  Let's just say that put me WAY over my calories for the day, but I did it.  We left with the fry cutter and a gadget for washing car windows.  The peddler man was happy, and not once did he accuse me of being these kids' grandmother.  I guess he knew a grandma would be too wise to try and shop with four kids.

Guy recently got asked if he was a grandpa, too.  I guess we are reaching that age.  I never knew the 40's were the beginning of the geriatric years.  At least he is, and will always be, a year and a half older than me.  Wow. 

 He's ooooold.

***

I made Guy a cake.  Lots of layers, like him.  Very sweet, again, him.  Kinda complicated... him.

Oh, and I made it from scratch, every last itch of it.  I mean inch (see what I did there? Scratch, itch... never mind).  It was a lovely 4 layer chiffon, with mouse, cheesecake and ganache fillings, and a yum-o buttercream frosting.  Now you might think that that is too rich, and you'd be right.  When you have a rich life, why not have cake to match.

(and in case you were counting candles and things didn't add up, Guy is not 33.  We were out of candles, so I scrounged up four single candles and if you add the two threes together that's six...46.  Yes, I know it is a stretch.  Math was never my best subject.  Maybe if they had involved more chocolate...)

Building Something that Will Last

When Guy first went to college
 he studied to be an architect.  And he was good... is good.  He created amazing spaces with unusual elements, like floors that appeared to float.  He would have made an amazing architect.

One day I heard someone ask why he changed his mind.  "Because I want to do something more significant  with my life than making pretty houses for rich people.  I want to do something that will matter in eternity."

Guy teaches Special Education.  His class is filled with students that are mostly wheelchair bound, totally non-verbal, and in most cases, medically fragile and requiring total physical care and feeding.  His mother once said, "So, you're pretty much a glorified babysitter then, aren't you?"

He is anything but.

A typical day in Guy's class, after physical needs of the students are met, might include reading from "The Call of the Wild"  or "Huck Finn", unit lessons on seasons or sciences or cultures -including regional feasts, community-based instruction (taking the students off campus to teach consumer skills), daily living skills (even the most physically limited students enjoy the independence of using a shredder or blender, which Guy has rigged with special equipment so that the kids can start the machines), art and gardening.  He is an amazing, patient and clever teacher to a group of young people who may never carve a wide path in this life, but who are certainly destined to do important things in the eternities.  I am so proud of the work he does.

Guy was awarded Tuesday evening as Sacramento County Teacher of the Month for November (Actually, Certificated Employee of the month, which included all teachers, therapists, medical staff and credentialed personnel).  He was presented to the superintendent and board of trustees, and after recieving his recognition, was asked to give a short speech.  I could never express as well as Guy did what his life's chosen path means to him.  Here is what he said:

"I am honored to stand before you this evening to be recognized as Certificated Employee of the Month.  I have been working with students who have severe disabilities for almost 18 years.  I started as a substitute para-educator, and am now in my twelfth year as a classroom teacher.  I was first introduced to the field of special education by my wife - who is here with me tonight - and who has been a constant support and strength to me these past 18 years.

I would like to share briefly with you, two guiding principles that influence my work each day.  First, I firmly believe that all people are part of a great world family, and as such, we all have a responsibility to love, respect and support one another.  I truly feel blessed to be able to serve my fellow brothers and sisters in my classroom every single day; to teach them, support them, guide them towards increased independence, and thus provide them with an improved quality of life.

The second principle is that all students, regardless of their level of ability, deserve to learn and grow--to be engaged in fun activities, and to have a school experience which resembles that of their typically-developing peers.  What this means for my students is that along with all the necessary physical care that goes on each day, they also get to learn about: the food pyramid and eating healthy foods, how their body processes work, that seeds grow into plants that then become the food we eat, and about different countries and cultures.  I'm not sure how much of this information they are truly learning, but they deserve the opportunity.

To conclude my remarks, I wish to recognize all my colleagues and coworkers for their continued support and outstanding work - for we are a team, and I truly could not accomplish anything without those with whom I work.  I love what I do, and it truly has been a wonderful 18 years!  Thank you."

I wish I were a better photographer so that you could see the huge smiles of appreciation on the faces of the board president, superintendent and all the trustees.  They nodded their heads approvingly through his acceptance, and I believe they could not help but say to themselves,
"This man is what we wish all of our teachers would be."

Spicing Up a Marriage

You know how in the movies
a guy pulls over to the side of the road to change a tire and while doing so, he places the lug-nuts into the hubcap for safe keeping?  It is always about this time that a well meaning child with giant clown feet clomps over and flips the hubcap into the air, distributing the lug-nuts into the 4 foot high grass on the side of the freeway.

Now, take this scene, make the lug-nuts into hundreds of tiny beads and the roadside my studio, and make the clown-footed child be Jonah.  Do you have the picture?  OK, now do this SIX TIMES.

Usually, when I am making jewelry, I am doing it as a gift and there is a time-crunch. I mean, I suppose I could plan ahead, be relaxed and take my time, but where's the adventure in that?  So on those gift-making days, when clown-footed children topple thousands of beads across the floor, I scoop them up by the handful and dump them all akimbo into a bowl so that I can keep working.

Everybody say it with me now: "I will sort it out later." (this phrase may also be used with junk mail, laundry, and closets).

I am trying to get ready for my Open Studio Sale.  Mixed beads are not conducive to my creative chi.  While I am getting pottery ready (because sorry, you can't crank out pottery the night before.  People apparently won't like squishy, wet pots), I have asked Guy to awaken the OCD within him and help me get the beads under control.

***THIS IS WHY I LOVE MY HUSBAND***

While I throw pottery (ha ha, you're so funny.  Yes, they would break if I actually threw them, but we don't. It's just the term we use) Guy has spent the past several evenings not just sorting out the bowls of beads that had been mixed like a Three Bean Salad, he is making me a "Beading Station", complete with beads grouped by size, color and type.  He is organizing everything so that I can get to it easily and it will be out of the way of clown feet and sticky fingers.

But wait, there is more...

I came home the other day from Ballet with the girls to see my counters covered with tiny glass bottles.  Guy had hunted out old spice racks from the thrift store in which to organize my beads.

 There is nothing so wonderful as being thought of, but I mean really thought of; remembered, understood, appreciated.  I felt so important to him.  He has plenty to do with his time to not be scrounging around dirty ol' thrift stores or sorting out my messes.  I smiled so hard and said to the rows of little bottles, "Oh, that cute man!"

In the movies, besides rescuing toppled hubcaps, men bring flowers.  But show me a man changing a poop-soup diaper and I'll show you a real hottie.  You can keep your movie man.  In real life - my life, my sweetie brings me old spice jars.

*****

Congrats to my Hubby for the honor he will receive tomorrow night as 

Teacher of the Month 

for all of Sacramento County and Court Classes.

I am so proud of him.

อาหารค่ำกับเพื่อน

Or as we say in our backyard:

Dinner with Friends

It was time again for our sort-of monthly sometimes-foreign dinner with Dave, Steph, Kathy and the Bishop.  He has a name, but we just call him Bishop. 

Guy, fab-husband turned master Thai chef was in the kitchen chopping for about 4 hours.  He then diced, minced, marinated and braised.  In no time he was stirring and finally...

Wallah!

(which is Arabic for คนฝรั่ง)

(which is Thai for "Ta-da!")

He created a Thai feast.

I set the table. 

Hey, too many cooks

spoil the Thai Coconut Chicken soup.

We sat out in the warm July evening breeze, ooh-ing and ah-ing over each course.  We laughed and took seconds.  We were serious a little, here and there, but usually not for long.  As the sun set, the twinkle lights lit the gazebo with a warm glow.  It was, as Steph told me later, a meal she would have paid $100 for.  But the company, of course, was priceless.

At the end of the evening we each opened a fortune cookie.  Fortune cookies aren't a Thai tradition, but technically they aren't really Chinese, either.  We giggled as we took liberties modifying our fortunes.  Then Kathy read hers.  I believe it said;

"Appreciate the caring people who surround you."

ฉันจะทำ.

I do.

 Orange Salad with toasted coconut and fresh mint

(Thanks Kathy!)

Roasted Eggplant Salad with Cilantro and Lime

Chicken Satay with Peanut Sauce

Butternut Squash and Chicken Curry

 Paht Thai Noodles with Pork



 Pork and Zucchini in Red Curry Sauce

Chunky Baby with Rice

  

 

Homemade Coconut Ice Cream with Peanut Battered Banana Fritters

 in Strawberry Sauce