Tremor

Just hit by a Very Random memory. When I was pregnant (many years ago) on of the things I was supposed to be doing was 'kick counts' where I'd count how many kicks or movements I felt in an hour. This was supposed to make me aware if there was no movement for a worrying amount of time. However. Kick counts, for me, were impossible. My daughter seemed to be moving all the time. In fact, sometimes I could feel my whole belly vibrating with unbelievably rapid movements. I couldn't imagine what was going on in there.

Finally my little bundle of joy arrived. She was pretty active, all right. But one day, shortly after her birth, my husband was holding her while she slept. And in her sleep she proceeded to have leg tremors. I mean just twitching and kicking up a storm. Didn't even wake her up. A-HA! I told him, I told you something weird was going on in there!

Fortunately, the tremors tapered off rapidly, and never created any problems for her. But, damn. That was a feeling, for sure.

Mom to the Mom Friend

K was supposed to stay at college this weekend, because there is a fancy event on Saturday. I was surprised, therefore, when I heard a car pull in mid-afternoon. I looked out, and beheld her stomping across the yard.

Apparently, it was a shit week. She was stressed about classes, tests, and Rosalie's injury. Her friends keep coming to her with their stresses and upsets. She doesn't want to BE the Mom Friend right now. So she came home.

I prescribed hot, cheesy lasagna, time spent with Hero, and a monumentally stupid animated movie (The Croods, Part 2). Now she's out in the kitchen with her brother, who magically managed to visit right when there was leftover lasagna, having her second dinner. Yes, we eat like hobbits. But she's laughing and sounds 100% better than she did 5 hours ago. She'll head back there tomorrow at mid-day, and be in time for the event.

Countdown to finals. All the college students are feeling it.

Hug

Son has been Going Through it with school stuff. This evening he came by to print out some papers on my printer and fill me in on how things are going. When he got ready to leave he told me he needed a hug. I hugged him, but since he is 5 inches taller it wasn't comforting the same way a mom-hug is when you're a little kid. "Should I get a stool to stand on," I joked. But, yeah. So I grabbed a stool I had sitting by the desk and stepped up to be just a little taller than he is. Got a second hug. Jeez, I wish young-adulthood was easier. For him, and so many of you.

SHE. glows in the dusk. If I could go back a couple decades, I'd cut down the tree behind this maple, so it could grow better. The lowest branch of this tree is about 8 feet up, a bit higher than I can reach. So it was with great shock, some years back, when I saw my three-yr-old daughter up in it. How? On earth?

Well, because of the slight uphill slope of the yard and the fact the the lowest branch had a downward slant, the tip of the branch was close to the ground at that time. She had grabbed the end, pulled her feet up, and sloth-crawled under the branch to the main trunk. Then she pulled herself athletically up on top of the branch and perched there to give me a heart attack.

Good times. Did I try it myself? Of course. Somewhat less gracefully, but still.

Apples and Bears

I have a big weekend coming up, I should be resting a bit. However.

I did sleep in a bit, then took the dogs out to the far field to cut some brush. I've been just cutting a small section per day, then leaving the tops where Nutmeg can browse them. Rosalie has been improving a little bit every day on 'farm dog' behavior. This morning, her two-week anniversary, she stayed near me for a while as I worked, then moved away and hung out near Chance and Lady. I saw her play-bowing to Chance, which was adorable, but he can't really engage in chasing anymore. At any rate, she was within reasonable distance at all times and came right back to me when I was ready to leave. 10/10

Using vile trickery and corn, I managed to confine almost all the young chickens, then release all the roosters but the one I want to keep. Later on I can pinion the ones I haven't already done and confine ALL the keepers in the chicken run for a while. There are only five roosters to butcher, so that won't be too bad.

Back at the house I spent two solid hours on soup, apple pie, and kitchen cleanup. I am, frankly, wiped at this point. Still have to take artwork to town and probably help K with chemistry homework. Dinner will be the mushroom soup that I just finished, so I'm ready to go on that.

A neighbor called during the morning to tell me he'd shot a small bear, and did I want the meat? Yes, I do. That's going to be a BIG butchering project for me, though. Butcher, freeze, can, etc. So that's kind of a combo Yay!/OhNo! moment. Canning meat isn't difficult, per se, but quite time consuming. Bear sausage? Many ideas to ponder.

Tomorrow, sitting in town at the Art Tour, will feel easy in comparison.

Baked and Frosted Halloween

Seasonal reminder that blue food-coloring in dark chocolate frosting makes a reasonably convincing black frosting.

Also, a plain pan of brownies plus a simple paper stencil plus some powdered sugar makes fun Deadly Brownies.

Also, turning young kids loose with cake decorating supplies and letting them do whatever random stuff they want is actually better than creating "perfect" decorated goodies for them.

Have fun. PS you do not actually need kids in order to make fun, delicious, silly Halloween baked goods. Go wild!

Blood

Ok. woo. I think I can write this up, now.

My son's Dr decided he needed a specific long-Covid test. We had to send away for it. A kit came in the mail, complete with an insulated mailing pouch, two tiny cold-packs, a vial, and an outer mailer (Fed-ex). Plus a whole lot of paperwork.

Yesterday morning we set off to go to Labcorp and get the blood drawn. It is in the same general direction as the Fed-ex building, so that was a plus. However, when we checked in, the lady at the desk looked at the paperwork and started making phone calls. Soon she told us, "we can't do that here, you'll have to go to the hospital lab."

Drat. We left, and it took me a minute to figure out how to get there - despite having lived here my whole life. Our town is cut up seven different ways by railroads, cliffs and steep ridges, perpetual construction, and rivers. Getting from Here to There can be an exercise in imagination. We did get there, however.

The diagnostic lab at the hospital can be a little crowded, but it didn't look too bad when we went in. We were somewhat under a deadline, because the sample had to be delivered to Fed-ex in time to be overnighted back to the lab it came from.

The lady who was checking us in told us our paperwork needed authorization from the Dr. (As we had gotten it direct from a lab, it had never passed through the doc's hands or been signed by her) Calls made. Faxes sent. More papers printed. At this point we were juggling three sets of paperwork.

Son was called back, and I went with in case there were more questions. The phlebotomist looked over his package in puzzlement, and made a phone call. Really, at that point, she should have talked to me first. It took her a w-h-i-l-e on the phone to get certain what was happening (she draws the blood, hands the sample to us, we take it to Fed-ex.) She then turned to try to explain all that to me. "Yes! I know. We will take it to Fed-ex!" I was trying to keep cool and calm, but getting a bit frustrated by this point. Then she said there was still paperwork missing, and left on a lengthy excursion to go get it from the front desk lady.

Finally, blood was drawn. She handed me the insulated foil package, and son and I got the heck out of there. Finding, on our way out, that the adhesive strip that was supposed to seal the insulated package was not actually sticky. Honestly, if you looked very closely, it looked like it had been stuck down once and reopened. It HAD to be sealed to ship, because the cold packs must be kept close to the sample, and the outer packaging was quite big.

Got in the car, feeling quite tense. We have been working on this [simple] project for an hour and a half, now. We zoomed off to Ace hardware, which was at least on the way to the Fed-ex drop-off. Grabbed a big roll of Gorilla tape. Stood in line while the pleasant cashier rang up the gentleman in front of us, and chit-chatted. The man behind us told Son that he had used Gorilla tape to install his window airconditioning unit last spring, and had a heckuva time getting it back out to put away for fall. I had questions, and did not ask them.

Car! Package! Open tape! Unable to tear tape! Use car keys to saw through tape! Seal inner package! Seal outer package! ZOOM!

The Fed-ex place was in&out-simple. Thank. God. We left feeling drained.

Shortly after I got home, Larry the Appliance Guy showed up. While it took a month, he had received the part to fix my oven. I can now bake again. I should bake. a treat.

hlep

Made cranberry sauce, walked doggos, printed price cards and business cards for the upcoming art show, ran the dishwasher, fixed some framing issues, ordered a frame for my son's project, language study, lugged the window ac unit back up to the attic (OOF!), brought an easel back down. My days are so random, and I'm pulled between so many different types of tasks. It really makes it hard to keep my brain working straight.

I should really have a more definite dinner plan. Real soon. zzzzzzz

New standard for Mohawks

Sitting around the living room, as one does.

Son: I want to spike my hair straight up

(note, said hair is halfway down his back in long, spiral curls)

Me: That doesn't seem possible

Me: Unless

Me: Maybe you had am armature underneath to support it

Son: (to Roommate) Hey I need you so weld me something to hold my hair up

Roommate: Awesome!!

Me (silently) I wonder how this is going to end up.

From the Annals

   A bit of family history, from 2006

One evening I went into the tool shed to get corn for the chickens. I had the Baby on my right hip and Son trailing behind. When I opened the corn bin, there, huddled roundly at the bottom, were two deer mice, Mama and baby. They were glossy and well fed and did not look the least bit guilty. Son started jumping up and down saying, "Can I touch one? Can I touch one?" I got a bucket, set Baby down on the floor reluctantly, and started trying to scoop up two athletic and highly motivated mice.

   The mice were leaping everywhere but the bucket, Son was trying to help, and Baby was looking around the floor for something she shouldn't stick in her mouth (so that she could stick it in her mouth). I was cool and calm.

   Finally I got both mice in the bucket, to be humanely released, and Baby securely back on my hip. Son was still jumping up and down beside me. "CanItouchoneCanItouchone?" As I rounded the corner of the woodshed I beheld the stupid dog with a hen pinned to the ground, "playing" with her.

HAAAAAA! I screamed in my best marine sergeant tones.

Mama mouse made a leap that would have had Jackie Joyner Kersey weeping with pride and landed on my left shoulder, quivering. The dog unrepentantly let go of the chicken, who leaping up clucking and squawking almost enough to drown out Son saying, "Mommy, you scared me! CanItouchitCanItouchit . . . "

I'm telling you, I was really, really cool and calm.

In the end, the chicken was ruffled but unhurt, and Baby and Son got to look closely at (but not touch) the bemused mice, who were successfully released far away from the corn bin.

(Note; this is why I started going gray early, I think)

(This is a photo of a different corn thief, but a mouse is a mouse)

Pop culture

Part of my son's ichthyology class is scrutinizing groups of closely related species (eg the notropids/shiners) for the minute differences that distinguish, say, an emerald shiner from a comely shiner. At one point, he was giving me a scholarly lecture about the differences in - I kid you not - fish lips.

As he wrapped it up, I summarized, "So, you're saying, 'the lips don't lie'?"

The dirty look I got, folks!

One more Time

I guess it's Sunday morning Thoughtful Time. Children growing up is a little bit like death. Hear me out.

Twice upon a time I had a three-yr old. It may not be a common opinion, but three is one of my favorite ages. Like, yeah they will fight about bedtime, but . . damn. The joy in living! The bounciness, cuddles, and giggles! The growing independence of age eight. Rushing home from school to tell you Mr T. Squished a Stinkbug In Class It was So Funny!!! Halloween parties. Twelve-yr-olds allowed to be at the rollerskating rink by themselves. Can't wait to tell you how they perfected their backwards skating or that one pinball machine has an electrical short and it shocked someone!!

Right now all those people, and more, exist somewhere inside my young adult children. But, crucially, I can no longer see them, interact with them, cuddle them. My three-year olds are just as gone from me as if they had died. The young adults are delightful! I love them to pieces. I might even, in the fullness of time, have grandchildren.

But I would step on a Lego every night for a year to be able to see with my littles one more time. Go down to the creek and turn over rocks to see Creatures. Bake cookies together.

Family Dinner

Because my son and his roommate were friends for years before moving in together, Roommate is frequently added to our family activities. Last night after Family Dinner, which we try to do once a week, my daughter speculated about how many 'extra kids' I've fed over the years. A lot, is the answer. I have fed so many extra kids. Several of whom were here so much they ended up calling me 'Mom.'

Sometimes in my head I conflate my kids' repeatedly finding - and adopting - Troubled Youths with dragging home abandoned kittens or puppies from the roadside. No! Stop "finding family!" Why did you bring that here! We don't need another . . oh, bother. I'll just. Set another place at the table.

Obviously, I'm never visibly curmudgeonly about this. I welcome them all and feed everyone who's hungry. Every now and then, though, I think about how much it has been.

Hydrology

Reading a scholarly paper about hydrology and the 'flow regimes' of waterways aloud sure is . . a thing. I read, then Son and I discussed this fine essay:

Due to dyslexia, he can't read something at this level and actually get the meaning out of it. I can read it aloud, but I don't always fully understand what I'm reading. He explained the technical terms I needed help with. We talked over the main points. He wrote his paper. I do whatever the kids' need me to do. Don't know how this college thing would work, though, if I wasn't able to help.

The thing I learned that I really didn't know before is that having a consistent flow in a waterway is often worse for the stream and surrounding area's ecology than having floods and dry spells. There are 'specialist' plants and animals that rely on the changing conditions of flood times and dry times to manage their specialized life-cycle events. Cool!

Another week

The week was pretty darned busy. Even though I didn't quite do all the things I planned to do at the beginning of the week, I did . . some of it, and a lot of other things. Today I got the oven pulled out and cleaned up; sides, behind, floor underneath. Unfortunately, the Appliance Guy did not show back up to fix the broken sensor. A few more days of doing without an oven, I guess.

Other than that, cooking a good dinner, and helping K with some chemistry problems, I didn't do much today. I feel like a wet dishrag.

Ooof.