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.

Don't Wait Until Dark

We just passed the year mark of having moved into this house, and I have been waiting to climb to the lookout.  Not waiting as in, "I can't wait, get the sunblock and repellent!", more like, "Um, yah, that sounds like fun, but maybe after I finish cleaning..." (bwahahaha!  Has any mother ever finished cleaning?).  The kids said it was an easy hike, except for the parts that are hard, but that's just at the beginning and a little in the middle, and the pine needles are a bit slippery, but you can just slide down on your butt.  That was a motivating little pep talk.  While we're at it, why don't we get a root canal?

But with the weather warming, the sun hanging around past dinner time, and with it having been a whole year without my ever having gone, I had run out of excuses.  So, one recent evening I asked Guy if he'd like to go on a walk with me.  He was what I call happy-hesitant.  Guy has to "buffer" for a little bit before he can shift gears and add something unplanned to the day.  When he was finished buffering, we threw on shoes and sweaters and set out ambitiously on "a family walk"; Guy and I, Tessa, Jonah and little Nano, the other kids being off on adventures of their own.

We walked the old pioneer road just on the other side of the creek, and when we hit the trail head where it departs from the road, I stood at the bottom of a rather steep incline with a little trepidation.  I have an old-for-me condition (back in the day it was called condromalacia, which, in Latin means "Crunchy, Owie Knees".  My doctor informs me the diagnosis has changed.  The crunching has not).  This crazy three story tree house, with my dad's place and the laundry at the bottom, and our bedroom at the top, has woken up a sleeping dragon, and my bendy-bits are starting to really complain at me, and I have never quite gotten my balance back since the blood clots.

But I HATE being dictated to by crabby body parts.  "Let's do it!" I told the gang, and started charging up the slope.  (And by charging, I mean carefully picking my way up the pine-needle covered hill).  My sweetie, who usually does things at his own pace, chose to hang close to me, his hand often reaching for my lower back to steady me on the steeper parts of the trail.  I have to say, though I am an independent chick, feeling his protective hand on my back was my very favorite part of the hike.

After the initial billy-goating up a pretty gnarly incline (ask Natalie, it was Everest.  She even stopped trotting a few times), things leveled out a skoach, and the walk was lovely.  The path widened to a fire road, and we easily made our way up the last rise.  We reached the crest of the hill in only about 20 minutes and the view that awaited us there was glorious.

The hills in every direction were awash with dusky pastels; pinks and blues and grey-greens.  It was stunning.  We could not only see Jackson, Sutter Creek, and further off, Ione, we could even see the tall buildings of Downtown Sacramento, well over an hour away.  The Littles gathered wildflowers in small mounds, free to pick as many as they liked, while Guy and I pointed out familiar sights from our surprising new vantage point.  Soon, the sun began it's slow but steady dip below the horizon, the deep pumpkin colored orb creeping away behind a low purple cloud that hugged the horizon, until it went from a slice, to a sliver, to a vanishing glowing speck.  We paused for a comforting breath and sigh, and then sort of reverently gathered ourselves, our wild flowers and walking sticks, and headed for the trail.

As we headed back down the trail, I was surprised at how suddenly the path had dimmed.  Guy and I pretended we were sure we would get back before dark, just to extend the children's fading bravery a few minutes more.  But it was a farce.  Before we were halfway home, we were struggling, and by the time we could see the distant lights of our windows across the creek, we could no longer see our own feet.  Jonah and Natalie went from questions, to whimpers, to tears.  I started to sing silly songs, and it helped for a bit, until Guy mentioned a little too loudly that because of the dark he maybe wasn't quite sure of the way to the shrub-encrusted path across the creek.  Tears became morose wails that we were NEVER going to find out way home, EVER, and we were for SURE going to be lost in the woods all night, and maybe get gobbled up by a bear and diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie! 

The moon began to come over the ridge, and though only a quarter, threw just enough light to completely freak the kidlets out, and we were still a ways from the house.  I tried to convince them that the moon was kindly lighting our way, and look!  We could see our own shadows!

More wails!

"It's scary!  I hate this!  Are there bears?"

Tess, much to the relief of all, finally located the hidden trail leading to the house.  Jonah bellowed that he was NEVER going to hike to the lookout again...ever!  We stumbled down the hillside and bumbled across the creek.  The last 100 yards before the house, it's path well worn by the kids own feet, gave The Little's the security to open up and tell us how they REALLY felt.  I'll spare you.

I'll admit that the house felt very warm and inviting when we opened the door.  I sat with Jonah boy and Nano on the couch and listened to the epic story of our near demise.  Then I got up to make quesadillas and cocoa, which heals all wounds.

*****

I wish I could say the rest of the night got better. 

 Not so much.  

Other stuff happened that night that is unblogable, 

and some things can't be fixed with cocoa and cheese, but that's parenting.

Yes, We're Open!

The very first time we drove down the winding lane and the long, tree shrouded driveway that led to our someday-house, it was only to see if the commute for Guy would be tolerable, if the house was too far away from civilization, and if we could even "see" ourselves living there.  It was late, after sunset, and the wooded lane was sinking into darkness.  Natalie wept, "Dis is scawy, I don't yike it here."  The little voice in my heart-head that protects my children from all harm decided right then and there, if this place scares my baby, we can't possibly consider it.

But somehow that first of first impressions disappeared when I saw the place in the daylight; green slopes and mossy boulders, pines and oaks and deer trails. As possibilities solidified into plans, we began telling people about our new house and I found myself saying, "Well, it's an hour away from Sac, in the woods, but we can be to Walgreens in 20 minutes, and to the nearest little market in about five."  I had to prove to myself, by way of convincing others, that moving this far away from what was familiar was somehow a safe and, dare I say, good idea.  It's like pretending to enjoy green beans so your kid'll try 'em; oldest trick in the book, in reverse.

One of my big worries was that there would be nothing to do here once we settled in.  I pictured Little House on the Prairie, listenin' to Pa' play the fiddle on Saturday nights.  I was looking at harmonicas and wool long-johns on Amazon, and whittling tutorials on Youtube. 

Boy, was I wrong.

I am just amazed at how much happens here.  I think when we lived in the city, we were so surrounded by hustle and bustle that it felt busy.  Sure, we did an occasional gallery hop, or attended a summer concert in the park, but since moving here we have enjoyed so many new experiences.  Small town life is slower, it's true, but it takes itself seriously, and folks are dedicated to their hometown pride in a new and unexpected way.  Shop keepers tell you about their secret swimming hole ("Shhh, don't tell anyone.  This is for locals only," the owner of the antique store had said.  *GRIN*, she called us locals!), neighbors wave as they drive by, and yes, some places will even offer to carry a tab for you.  There are parades of all sorts, and car shows, and craft fairs, and golly, Winthrop, sometimes I feel like I'm in The Music Man.  No joke.

One of our new explorations has been to pick a town (there are about 10 in the area) and stroll the main street (not on Monday... or Tuesday... or sometimes-but-not-always Wednesday, and certainly not after 5pm, or 4 maybe.  Or lunchtime...)

...and wander through shops.  We don't make a day of it, doing a whole street in one go.  We just do a few shops at a time.  Ancient hand-hewn stone buildings that used to be banks or jails are now antique stores or boutiques.  One Monday (oops, we hadn't got the No Mondays memo yet) we took the kids to Jackson to wander down main street, a particular gem/bone/Native American shop in mind, only to find it closed, of course.  Wandering along we looked through picture windows and remarked, "Wow, cool!  We'll have to try to come back to this one..."

I whispered to Guy that I knew there was a candy shop down the way a bit.  He gave me a nod, and we headed there in hopes of an OPEN sign. 

Yay!  Bless you, Train Town Candies!

We told the kids they could get an ice cream or a bit of (slightly pricy though worth it for the ambiance) candy.  It was hard to choose!

The shop keeper told us that this used to be a toy store, specializing in wooden trains, balsa-wood plane kits and other unusual toys and puzzles.  He has every kind of cookie cutter you could possibly Ever Need.  But once the Walmart moved in a few miles up the road, he almost went out of business.  He and his family began making fudge and selling candy to try to stay afloat.  It must be working.  I've been in there three times since our first visit, and there is always a little crowd.

Well, a big crowd, if you include us!

The big boys, busy with big-boy responsibilities, don't usually join us in our wanderings.  I wish they would.  I love marching into a store with all six of my kiddos.

*****  

I told Guy the other day that I am really starting to like it here.  It only took a year.  To be fair though, my new responsibilities have taken time to get the hang of.  Just like an old train, I started out slow and took a while to get my rhythm.  

I think I can.

I think I can.

Harvest (A Fall Photo Album)

Jackie says I need to write about our adventure with our Christmas tree, and I will but this post has been waiting it's turn in line, and is rather delayed by the planning of the church party and the making of much fudge and such.  So please consider this an appetizer...

*****

There is a nip in the air, and giant leaves have fallen from our trees as though it were a race to get to the ground.  The crickets have gone quiet, and in the dark evenings as I walk outside, usually from the van after an activity "in town", the cheerful return of the creek's chatter is the only sound besides that of my own feet hitting the soggy leaves I should have raked before the first rainfall.

It's a blessing that there are a cluster of celebrations and holidays between now and January, because it gives my heart a net to keep it from plunging into the darkness which now comes far to early each afternoon.  I count the days until the solstice, when at least I'll know that the sun will linger a few minutes longer each day, even if I can't see it yet.

Another first in our new house; first Autumn.  The two apple trees that we pretty much ignored all summer have not taken it personally, and have given us quite a bounty of fruit, first one tree, then the other.  The kidlets did the harvesting and had such fun.  Besides eating as many as our bellies could hold, I made a couple of pies and desserts and the kids made apple sauce.  

On Halloween I made our annual Candy Corn Soup, to be consumed before trick-or-treating.  If you are new to the concept, or disgusted at the idea, each year my Candy Corn Soup is actually just some form of pumpkin or sweet potato or butternut squash soup, topped with 3 candy corns, because (sing with me...) "a spoon full of sugar makes the healthy soup go down" before the candy deluge.  

I forgot to get bacon, so it was vegetarian style this year (though not vegan, 'cuz I like me some cream and buttah!). 

The last holdout in the soup department.  All she wanted was cornbread. Note the crumbs.

Here you witness the kiddos in various stages of costuming, fulfilling the command "Eat your candy corn soup or NO CANDY for you!"

Steampunk Jonah

 The Jensens joined us, and though we tried like crazy to get out early, we still didn't hit the road till 6:30.  I had planned to take the kids down main street in Jackson to the shops that stay open late for trick-or-treaters, but we were too late.  So we tromped up to a nearby neighborhood, but quickly learned that ours were the only children that that neighborhood had seen all evening.  We had been told that certain neighborhoods get hundreds of kids, but apparently we didn't land in one of those.  The kids were met on those sleepy streets with enthusiastic homeowners who nearly emptied their bowls into the kids bags.  It felt strange though, to be the only families still on the streets at only 7:30 pm.  We've learned our lesson, though.  Next year, out by 4pm!

After tromping around until well after dark, we came back to our cottage in the woods and watched To Kill a Mockingbird.  I fell asleep halfway through, but it's okay... I have the whole thing memorized.

It was a great night.

The Photo Album

*****

In other news, earlier in the week Guy and I had our first Halloween party at the new house, and enjoyed the company of both new friends and old.  It was awesome.

Guy doing his "dead face".  Yes, he does sometimes make that face the split second before I turn out the light at night, just to creep me out.  To see how that works, look at his picture and then real quick shut your eyes.  Creepy, right!?

This was my mother's Halloween costume that she wore over 50 years ago.

Ellie at the church Trunk-Or-Treat with new friend McKenzie.  The kids have been so welcoming to our kiddos. 

Velma, Shaggy and Scooby.  Apparently, there is no such thing as "too old to go trick-or-treating".

J boy in full makeup and Ninja Ryan

 A darlin' lil' Cheetah.  The cutest wild life in our neck of the woods.

I guess I've always loved Halloween because for just one day, you get to be someone else.  But when you move, you really do become someone else for a little while.  You are the new person.  A person who suddenly doesn't know anyone.  A person who is starting over.  

And that, indeed, is a little bit scary,

But that was way back in October. A lifetime ago in your first year in a new place.

 I know some folks now.  

Real nice folks.

It's feelin' more like home all the time.

Beating the Heat(ers)

It's hot.  

 It's been over 100 all week, and finally cooled off a bit today (whew!).

And our A/C doesn't work.

We've been hitting low 90's in the house.

But when we first got here it was cold.  We were trying to figure out this house and all it's quirks (like the millions of light switches to who-knows-what.  I am convinced that somewhere in the neighborhood there is a homeowner who keeps wondering why their porch light keeps turning on and off).  In that process, and because we were cold, we tried the heater, pellet stove, wood stove and a few space heaters to warm the joint up.

Did I say few?  I meant 4.

Oops.

Getting our first electric bill was beyond shocking! 

 It was more than the cost of:

My first semester tuition in college

My wedding band

The birth of our first child

Yah, so I got home to see "a look" on my husband's face that frightened me.  He showed me the bill, we freaked out together, and, yada yada yada plus a day later, we figured out about the cause of it.  Space heaters and a very inefficient water heater adding to the electric strain.  

We knew it would be something, though.  

You don't buy a 45 year old house and not have a few surprises.  So after we had our jaws surgically re-attached to our faces, we set about making plans to solve the problem(s).  I'm not sure yet what we will be doing to fix the house heat, but we have ideas in the works, and a few months to figure it out.  God took care of it for now by sending volcanic heat to the area, eliminating our need for plug-in solutions.  And a new water heater is DEFINITELY on the docket.

A day or so after the PG&E shock-by-mail, as I sat at the computer learning about energy-star rated heat-pumps, cute hubby walks through the room with our large laundry bucket (small tangent: Marcy and Kindel Morris, if you are reading this, the bucket was part of your wedding present to us, and it will likely still be here in another 22 years!  Great choice!).  A few minutes later he returns with a call out that everyone needs to meet him in the driveway.

I was... reluctant? no, reserved? Nah, I'll admit, I was grumpy.  Water heaters and heat pumps are not my favorite things AT ALL.  If I made a list of things I like, water heaters wouldn't even make the top one thousand (I can say that now, because it's been over 100 degrees all week).  And now he was interrupting my grump-fest, and I HAD to join what ever craz-o-rama he had planned cuz' apparently, when I gave birth half a dozen times, I signed up for this whole support-ma'-hubby thing, grump or no grump.

So, we all made our way out the front door.....

SPLASH!!!!

Water gun to the face!

One thing I love about Guy (I love more than one thing.  Like at least four...)

is that he can sometimes shake off the blues and just cut loose.  But it is random, so you don't see it coming (I usually can't do that so well, cuz I am a crabby-cake.  Though I am working on it.  Just last night I turned a "They're-all-fussy-and-no-body-is-listening" Family Night into a Mouths-only marshmallow-catching contest.  It was Mallow-geddon up in here) 

  (what was I saying?  Oh, yah, water gun...)

TO THE FACE!   Bam!  (well, not bam. Splat?)

He had the wedding bucket full of water and a variety of squirty-thingies, loaded and ready.  We ran around blasting each other for a good half hour.  It was awesome. 

Natalie thought it was hilarious to shoot people in the "booty", eye level.  Jonah stayed out of range.  Adam got cold before we had even soaked him all that well (no meat on 'dem bones).  Tessa and Ellie were ruthless, and I was arbitrarily making up rules to avoid getting drenched.  No one listened.

Guy was a rock-star-cowboy, water guns blazing.

Soon a truce was called and weapons were stowed.  As I walked up the front steps, my gaze followed my feet as they squished on each stair, clean, wet toes sprinkled with driveway sand and itty-bitty pebbles.  I thought how just half a sunset ago I was all Oscar the Grouch.  I know that in life I am not supposed to let the situation dictate my mood, that I am the captain of my own ship and all that happy-crap, but this time it was a very good thing that I let Guy take the rudder.  Dis' here boat was beached on a sand bar, and it took a little water to shake it loose. 

*****

Fun things we have learned about the house/area

 (because it ain't all bad):

The acoustics in the living room are AWESOME, 

making Sunday night piano-sing-alongs better than ever.

*

Baby deer make a cute squeeky sound, like a dog toy.

*

Sometimes I forget there is a creek outside, and I think someone left the water running.  When I realize it's the creek, it makes me smile.

*

If enough bugs get in the house, at a certain point you just decide to co-exsist.

*

There is something empowering about being able to pee WHENEVER you feel like it, 

and to have three toilets to choose from, no waiting.