New Year, New Crap.

My washing machine is dead/dying.  The plumbing in my house is becoming questionable, at best. So is the septic tank and drain field.  The water that comes out of my well looks like milk.  My car is quickly nearing the 200,000 mile mark and has an unidentifiable oil leak.  My thyroid is still out of whack.  My kids are not perfect. My chickens have lost their feathers and are no longer laying eggs.  There is an old, rotten tree that leans precariously over the garage.  I think there are mice in the attic.  And probably bats, too.  I just spent $506 to replace a cracked filling (the day before Christmas.  Ho, ho, ho.).  I spent 2/12 hours on hold on the phone today and never did get my questions answered.  My dog eats other animal's poop like it's a delicacy.  There is never enough food in my house, or so I'm told.

After reading all of that, don't you feel better about your life?

Some people make resolutions for the new year.  I don't.  Instead, I like to chose a word that best expresses my goals for the upcoming year and offers inspiration as well.  This year I have chosen a few words to consider:
1.  Why?
2.  Seriously?
3.  Poop.
4.  Now what?  ( I know this is more than 1 word, but a small phrase is appropriate too)
5.  This sucks.  (See note on #4)

Seriously, though, my word for 2014 is "hope."  But it's my prerogative to change it if I see fit.

Here's a picture:

 I think that Sarah is biting Jon and Jon is trying to choke Sarah.  Good times.

Jon's bomb.  Found in the field across from the house.  Really.

Cider Party!

We invited friends and family for a cider making party.  Hot dogs for dinner and s'mores for dessert.  A clear night and a warm fire.  The best kind of Autumn celebration.

Pumpkin Patch

I love this farm.

Anytime is a good time for gymnastics!

My family has been going to this family-owned farm/pumpkin patch since my brothers and sister and I were little.  It's the only place that I ever remember picking pumpkins.  I love its simplicity.  There are no corn mazes or tractor rides to waste money on.  No games or hay slides to stand in line for.  Just wheelbarrows and pumpkins.  Perfect. 

We usually take a ride on the Wheatland Ferry on our way home, but today, the ferry wasn't running.  A huge disappointment.  We'll have to go back another day.  

Tomorrow, we carve.

Gingerbread Cookies

that no one will eat.  Seriously.  No one in the house likes gingerbread cookies except Jon and I.  Every year I ask myself why I continue baking something that no one likes.  I guess it's just a tradition that I'm not going to break.  Plus, it makes my house smell like fall.

A full cookie jar.  

The recipe that I used this time pretty much sucked.  After I mixed everything up (last night--the dough has to chill, you know) I could tell that the dough was way too dry and crumbly.  After chilling overnight, it was more like a lump of cement.  So here I was, standing in my kitchen surrounded by littles asking me, "When can we make cookies?  When will it be ready?  Are you ready now?  How come you're not ready?"and me unable to provide appropriate cookie dough.  I added a cup or so of water, let it sit, (maybe prayed a little) and then kneaded the hell out of it before it was pliable enough to use.  My kitchen and I were now covered with flour, but we were finally on our way.   

Ugly Apples

Bill keeps bringing home apples.  Ugly, dirty apples that fall from trees.  My fridge had gotten overrun with these apples, so I decided to try crock-pot applesauce.  Ask me tomorrow how it turned out, okay?

 A crock-pot full of apples, a cup of water, a few teaspoons of cinnamon, and a bit of sugar.  Cook until done.  Seems too good to be true.

 A break in the weather for a bike ride.

 Jack-made centerpiece.

What is that I see?!  Could it be the sun?

I'm realizing that it's been several months since I updated.  I'm not sure why it's been so long, except that maybe my non-functioning thyroid has kept me in a state of semi-consciousness for these many months.  It's my excuse for everything that goes wrong these days.  Didn't fold the laundry today?  It's because of my thyroid.  Forgot to weed the garden?  Thyroid.  Can't balance the nation's budget?  It's my thyroid.  Pluto's downgrade from planet status?  That's my thyroid too.  Feel free to borrow this excuse from me for your own purpose if you'd like. 

Gratitude Sunday

 Bill spent the day refurbishing Grandma Barb's pond.  There's still a few kinks to work out, but it's looking good.  He put a couple scoops of creek sand in the bottom so we have periwinkles "walking" along the bottom of the pond.  

 Bill also cleaned up his Dad's old Schwinn Tornado bike.  It's awesome.  The kids (and Bill) are having fun riding it.  The basket (his Dad says he would never have had anything so dorky) is not original.  Everything else is. 

Despite the wet weather, there is corn coming up.  Lots of corn.  I can hardly wait until August.

Thankful for the return to warmer, sunny weather.

Happy to cross a few "to do" items off the list.

Enjoying sitting outside on the front porch to drink my morning coffee.

Taking walks after dinner with EVERYONE.  A little stressful ("Sarah, get off the fence.  Jon, don't throw rocks at your brother.  Jack, stop trying to run everyone over with your bike.") but well worth it.

Fresh, local strawberries.  Plentiful enough to begin thinking about jam making.

Rhubarb!

Bill has a girlfriend.  Not THAT kind of girlfriend.  This is a lovely lady he was built and repaired fence for who just happens to love Bill.  People always love Bill.  It gets a little nauseating.  Anyway, this lady (she's like 65) always gives Bill a little something extra for his time, like eggs, or veggies, or home-raised beef.  I think I'll be encouraging this relationship.

This week, after a service call (yeah, right,  I see through that), Bill brought home 5 dozen (!) eggs and a giant bag of rhubarb.  So generous!  The eggs will be taken care of within a few weeks easily.  But the rhubarb?  Hmmmm.  My Grandma Klecker used to let us eat rhubarb from her garden (it was actually my Grandpa's garden and it was amazing) with a little paper cup of sugar to dip the stalks in.  Raw.  It was quite sour, but I remember liking it.  I'm out of little paper cups, so I was looking for a new way to prepare the rhubarb.

Here's what I made:

Rhubarb Sauce:
Boil 1 C. water and 1 C. sugar
Add 8 cups rhubarb, cut in 1 inch chunks
Simmer for about 10-15 minutes, or until nice and saucy.  Stir in about a tsp. of cinnamon

Rhubarb Crisp:
Crumble together:
1 C. flour, 3/4 C. oats, 1 C. brown sugar, 1 tsp. cinnamon, and 1/2 C. melted butter
Pat half of this mixture in a 8X8 pan (I used a pie pan)
On top of the crumb mixture add:
4 C. chopped rhubarb
Over rhubarb pour:
1 C. water, 1/2 C. sugar, 2 Tbsp. cornstarch (I used arrowroot powder), and 1 tsp. vanilla--cook this mixture until it's thick.
Sprinkle remaining crumb mixture over the whole thing.
Bake at 350 for 45 min. or so.

 Giant bag of rhubarb.

 Making sauce.

Well, there were two crisps when I went to bed.  Hmmm.  Someone likes rhubarb.

Big Red

Jack has worked hard over the past several months restoring his Great Grandpa's 3-wheeler, appropriately named "Big Red."  Purchased new in 1984, Big Red has seen lots of action around here. He was retired shortly after Grandpa Bill passed away in 2003.  But now, he runs again.

Jack rebuilt or replaced nearly every part of this darn ol' thing.  Except the tires.  They're new.  I am so impressed by his diligence and ability while systematically going through the parts and deciding what needed to be fixed.  He spent hours researching parts on the internet and reading the original owner's manual.  How many 14 year old do you know who could do such a thing?  (Maybe there's lots of kids who could do such a thing, but humor me in thinking that he's extraordinary.)

All he needs now is a new helmet.

Catching Up

Seriously.  Where does time go?  I need to visit this space more often.

Both boys have been playing baseball this spring, as usual.  Jack finished his season last week.  I am so proud of how he seamlessly transitioned into playing in a new state, with new boys, and a completely different level of play.  He told us that this was his favorite team ever.  Makes me happy and a bit relieved.  Change can be hard for anyone, especially teenagers.

Jon is in the midst of his season--the first time facing a live pitcher.  Since Jon resides in "Jon World" most of the time, baseball can be an unsolicited interference in his day.   He has a good attitude about practicing and I do believe he's enjoying his team.  Now, if he could only hit the ball.  Just once.

Madeline got herself the perfect job.  She's working as a barista for the local drive-thru coffee stand.  Business has been a little slow, but we're hoping things pick up for the summer months.  She's been very responsible with her earnings, depositing most of it in her savings account.  I've been known to (regularly) borrow cash from her.  She's very generous.

Sarah just had her 4th birthday.  Yikes!  Not so much a little one anymore.  That girl is wide open, all of the time.  That's all I'm going to say about that.

Bill is still learning about building fences and what skills are necessary for running a business.  Despite missing the familiarity of logging, I think he is really enjoying the change.  Personally, I enjoy the availability of the hydraulic post driver for building things--like fences.

And me.  I'm not doing anything new or especially fun.  I did put in a new garden, but the near-constant rain these past several weeks seems to have rotted most things that were coming up.  I guess I'll be replanting this week.  Nice weather is in the forecast.  Hmmm.  Just lots and lots of yard work, gardening, and the usual homemaking tasks.  It's all good.

Want to see some pictures?  I've got lots!

 After a change in our aquifer (like I even know what that means), we invested in a Berkey water filter. I heartily suggest one if you're in the market.

 A bread machine.  Busy afternoons that don't allow me to babysit bread dough have given me the opportunity to use this.  Don't tell Emma (Amish) that I've resorted to such a thing.

 Garden!

 More garden.  Check out my fence!  Some girls get jewelry or fancy presents for Mother's Day.  Not me.  I got a fence.  It's the perfect gift.

 Beautiful rhodys in bloom.  Everywhere.

 Bill's homemade chicken coop.  Everything but the door latches was scavenged from the woodshed or the shop.  

 Happy little house.  

Karl! 

A Lesson From Sarah

Just as I was getting the bacon frying and the pancake batter stirred up for yesterday's dinner, there was a knock on my front door.  Considering where I live, this is an unusual occurrence.  Standing on my front porch was a tattoo-covered, rough-looking young man.  Okay, I'll be real and just say it:  This guy looked like complete trash.  Standing behind him on the walkway was an equally rough-looking young lady (holding a shotgun) and two filthy, snotty-nosed little kids.  They'd broken down a few miles up the logging road, he said, and needed a place to wait for a ride. With slight hesitation (Bill wasn't home from work yet), I invited them in.  The man asked if he could use our wi-fi to e-mail his mother.  I asked if he wouldn't rather call her and he said that he couldn't because her phone (they live with her) had been turned off.  I'll be real with y'all and tell you that, once again, I was thinking to myself how trashy these people were.  In the hour or so that they were in my house, the little girl pooped and the mom had no diaper to change her with (who travels with little kids without, at least, a diaper), the little boy pooped in my bathroom and neither flushed the toilet or washed his hands (who lets a child explore in a stranger's house alone?), the kids ran wild through the house, pulling toys out of every closet they could find (never once an offer to help tidy up their children's mess), and the parents just sat on the sofa doing nothing.  As it was dinner time, I asked if they would like to eat with us and they said the kids would probably be hungry.  So Bill and I fed them.  Like served their food, cut their food, made them stay sitting at the table, and then wiped them up when they were finished.  The parents just sat there.

By now, I'm pridefully thinking to myself how kind my family has been by offering hospitality to these "lesser" folks.  In fact, I think there was probably a feeling of superiority, if truth be told.  Was I just being helpful to these people because it made me feel good?  Would I mock them and their life after they left my house.  I'm embarrassed to say that the answer is yes.  And then, I was smacked back to reality.

Last year, there was a terrible, well-publicised tragedy in this area.  Suffice it to say that what happened is every parent's worst nightmare.  Well, THIS was the family who experienced that accident.  Sitting on my sofa, their remaining little kids running through my house, this was that family.  Yikes.  All of those self-righteous feelings I had ran screaming out my front door.  In their place came true feelings of hospitality.  This was a sorrowful, broken family who just needed a soft place to rest.  A little bit of understanding and help.  Some kindness.  I pray we gave them a little.  Not for our own sake, but to ease their sadness and obvious burdens in life.

And Sarah's part in this?  I glanced over at her and she was sitting on a chair with the little girl (who was 2), rubbing her head and hugging her, saying, "Oh, you are just so special.  You are my new friend.  I'm so glad you came."  Gulp.  While I saw a dirty, wayward little urchin, Sarah saw a dear child who deserved to be loved, despite her obvious shortcomings.

Perspective.  That's what I got a good dose of last night.  While I sit in my tidy little cottage, fridge full of food, kids all healthy and living, and life filled with abundant blessings, there are so many others who are experiencing loss, and death, and sickness, and sadness.  So I ask you, what can we do about it?

Hey, but on a brighter note, want to see some pictures of yesterday?

My sweet, new Danskos.  Waxed canvas so they're waterproof.

Gratitude Sunday

Maybe it's just the emotional high that follows a bout of sickness.  Maybe it's the sun that's been shining, at least a little, this past week.  Whatever it is, I'm feeling full of gratitude for so many things.

 Playing in the sunshine and the creek.  

 Everything is starting to green up and the trees are putting on buds.

 ALL of the kids playing together on Friday evening.  And they were all laughing. 

 New raised beds, full of rotted compost.  Ready for greens and carrots.

Surprise bulbs coming up in the stone planters on the patio.  This makes me happy because G.Barb planted these.

As I lay in bed last night, Sarah started asking about who lived in this house before us.  She asked who slept in Jack and Jon's room and I answered that her Grandpa Pennick did (though I omitted the part about him climbing out his window at night so as to not give her any future ideas.  That child is trouble.).  She asked who slept in she and Madeline's room and I answered that her Aunt Pat did.  She asked who slept in my room and I told her Grandpa Bill and Grandma Barb.  And before them, probably her great, great grandparents.  That's when it hit me how wonderfully strange and awesome it is to think of so many generations of Bill's family living right here.  In this house.  How often does that happen anymore?  I find myself thinking about all the women who cooked (countless) meals in the kitchen.  The meals that were eaten by family and friends in the dining room and nook.  The feet that walked the wood floors (and the hands that painstakingly laid those floors) and the people who sat and visited in the living room.  I'm just awestruck by it all.  

To be honest, I can't say I was fully on board with Bill's idea of settling on this farm.  It's so far from everything, the house is so old and small, the upkeep will take so much effort, there's wild animals prowling around....The list went on and on.  I'm glad I trusted his vision, because I am finding myself so comfortable and happy here.  If I've learned anything this past year, it's that I'm not every truly in charge.  When I think I've got everything planned and mapped out for the future, God comes in with a better plan. I might drag my feet or kick and scream in protest, but ultimately, His ideas are better than mine.  

Might I always remember that lesson. 

Kefir and Kombucha

How to make kombucha

How to make kefir

Several months ago I started brewing my own Kombucha.  It's easy, not horrible tasting, and supposed to be really good for you.  Probiotics, you know?  I try to drink about 8 oz. daily.  Sometimes I mix it with juice, but mostly I just drink it plain.  Want to see the scoby?

Because we've been a little under the weather (that might be an understatement) this past week, my scoby has been resting in the fridge until I can brew again.  I usually brew in a simple juice pitcher and the scoby grows to fit the opening of the top.  I have a friend who brews in a bowl and her scoby is the circumference of the entire bowl.  That's a little creepy.

And my kefir?  It's just an easy way to get those probiotics into everyone who won't drink kombucha.  That would be everyone except Madeline and I.  I might add the kefir to a smoothie, use it in place of milk for pancakes, or strain it and make a cream cheese substitute for dip.  I prefer making kefir to making yogurt because kefir is cultured at room temperature.  In order to make yogurt, you must heat the milk, cool the milk, introduce the culture, and then keep the milk at a temperature around 100 degrees for 8-12 hours.  Too fussy for me these days.  Kefir also contains more beneficial bacteria than yogurt.

And here's my kefir, culturing at room temperature.  Shamrocks for St. Patrick's Day!

I have to tell you that after our recent bout of gastroenteritis (that's a super fancy word for barfing!) I dosed myself with a few tablespoons several times each day and I recovered faster than anyone else.  My tummy felt better in no time.  Coincidence or kefir?

Insomnia

Since insomnia is a frequent visitor at our house, I thought I would share a few things I've learned while   not sleeping.

First, if sleep was like shift work, most people would be working/sleeping the graveyard shift.  Me, I sleep more like a day shift.  When regular people are waking up, I'm just falling asleep.  "Regular people" includes my kids, so I have to get up then too.

Second, BuzzFeed is full of really cute pictures to look at.  So is Baby Animalz.

Third, why don't the letters in the alphabet all say their own names?  Like "A."  It says its own name.  What about "H"?   It says "ay-ch."  Or "W."  It's not even a flippin' double "U."  It's a "V."  "Y."  Its name starts with a "W."  "Q" makes no sense at all.  It's all so confusing.

Fourth, it's hard to be quiet at 3:00 AM when you're trying to find something to eat.  Running the blender or popcorn maker isn't very practical.

Fifth, every house should have a sound-proof room that is filled with the most comfortable bed imaginable.  The temperature should be a perfect 62 degrees.  The sheets should be line-dried.  And then I still wouldn't be able to sleep.

That's probably all for now, but I'm sure I'll think of a few more things to share tonight.