Other than bugs...

We didn't spend the entire time running from bugs, though I'm pretty sure Emma thought that bugs were lurking in very corner just waiting to jump out and scare her. I had a great deal of compassion for her. I, too, know what it is like to fear "The Bug".

So, the first day was a "cool" day for us. There were clouds in the sky, and Tanner and I had just taken a walk, so we invited Emma and Joanelle to stroll along our "river" walk. The girls had a great time, but Emma didn't know about pacing herself, so she started to over heat. Not to worry, I had brought along 3 bottles of water, so we kept her hydrated and took a short cut back to the house.

That's all the purpose of the big huge stroller that I take everywhere. I can fit all three girls in it if I have to. It might be a little hefty to push, but I am guaranteed to be able to make it home. The girls were disappointed that Mr. and Mrs. Beaver weren't out playing on the bank. Reagan is convinced that our "river" walk is actually in Narnia, after all there are lamp posts and the beavers.

We decided to head for the pool that day, so Joanelle took Kate and Emma with her while I grabbed bathing suits and some fruits and veggies from our fridge. Oh, yeah, and more water. Then I joined her at the pool with lifejackets and some pool toys. It was an indoor pool at her hotel and boy was it COLD. Perfect. Emma and Kate cooled down to the point that their lips turned blue.

We had a great deal of fun, and then lolled about trying to figure out where to go for dinner. We decided on Texas Roadhouse until we pulled into the drive and discovered that there was a TWO hour wait. That's when we remembered that it was Friday night. So, we drove around a bit, and settled on TGIF, but got lost in the turn around and ended up at this place called the Boston Bakery. What a find!

It was right next to the big fountain on University and the girls ran screeching all over the place. There wasn't any wait at all, and the food was delectable. We sampled each others plates, had some nice beverages, watched the girls squirm in their seats, and then headed home. Tanner biked to work so that I could take the girls back to Joanelle's for their promised movie night. Late for us was not late for Joanelle. I was falling asleep on the couch at midnight, well aware that it was only 10:00pm for her, but I knew I had to go home or I wouldn't be worth anything in the morning.

When I came over the next morning, Joanelle told me that she had gotten hungry right after I left because that's her normal dinner time, so she ventured out with the girls. That's when they encountered the cricket, or should I say crickets. I think Kate must have had a lot of fun screaming all the way to the car. She loves to scream, and here was an adult actually encouraging it. She giggled when Joanelle told me the story about the crickets. I shook my head. Kate loves catching crickets. She and Reagan and her friend from across the street do "experiments" with them. I have to admit that I am dreading the day when the ask for a jar.

Brave One

Some of you might be wondering why I haven't blogged much about Joanelle's visit. Sometimes it is just too hard to write down all of the happiness an event can create, so I wait for a while until some of it has been distilled and the resulting concoction becomes a rich, full bodied text that reflects the wonderful essence of the event rather than the boring, daily happenings.

All of that to say: I'm not use to being the "brave" one of the family. Really, I'm not. I'm the scaredy cat. I'm the one that throws my plate of food in the air when a bee buzzes by. I'm the one that runs all the way home because a dog started to yap at me. I'm the one that would never touch slugs, potato bugs, worms, frogs, snakes, ants or lady bugs. I'm the one that accidentally boiled my mom's fish because I turned the thermostat up rather than the light, and then I made Emily clean them out because "I just couldn't". (side note: mercy ended up doing all the dirty work!)

The deck is stacked against me in this department. I'm the frightened one. At least, I was until Joanelle came to visit us for five days. I realized something was different when a cricket hopped by me, and I just watched it while Joanelle practically climbed over me and into the house, or when the Love Bugs winged their way by my head, and Joanelle screamed. I realized that some part of me must have become comatose because I started to laugh when Joanelle and Emma freaked out about the crickets hopping across the pavement in the parking lot. It IS cricket season, but they won't hurt you. I started to laugh at myself when I heard my mouth utter those words. How many times had people uttered those very words to me, and it hadn't made any difference?

And then I realized, why would I be scared of a tiny frog 2 inch frog when I'd had a bull frog leap across my path? Why would I be scared of one of those measly little wasps when I had battled with a 5 inch RED wasp on our back porch? Why would a dragon fly or a honey bee frighten me? And crickets are nothing compared to 4 inch cockroaches, even the extra large Texan crickets just don't compare. And last night, Tanner squashed a spider that was about an inch in diameter, so why would a wolf spider scare me?

So, suddenly, I find myself occupying the strange seat of "brave one". I'm the one that squashed the spider at the park so that Emma would stop screaming. I'm the one that swept a dead bee over to the gutter. I'm the one that told the girls, very sternly, to quit screaming it was only a mosquito.

Now, before you think that Joanelle's reactions were over rated, let me set you straight. The mosquito was about twice the size of a Portland mosquito. The honey bee was the size of a yellow jacket. The spider was a dark, ugly, black and had eyebrows. Everything in Texas is bigger, including the bugs. I don't think Joanelle will move here any time soon, but then, Hawaii has some pretty big bugs, too...

Blisters and toe picks.

Even though Tanner and I are pursuing different degrees, we've decided to try to take as many classes together as we possibly can, and that explains the blisters. Tanner needed one extra credit in order to be considered full time, and the only type of class that is offered as one credit is P.E.

P.E. is one of those required courses, the ones that we had decided to try to synchronize and do together. But, if both of us are gone then Jonny has to watch the kids, and we didn't want to have to go far, or at an odd time, or when Kate needed to be picked up, or, or, or..., so we chose ice skating, since the rink is a five minute walk from us, and that explains the toe pick.

Ice skating class. Translation: figure skating. Not hockey skating. Ever since I've known Mercy, I've rented hockey skates. They're great, and no toe pick. I don't like toe picks. They catch on the ice. They catch on the boot laces. They're generally in the way if you want to go fast. They're in the way if you want to stop. And yesterday, they were in the way when I was standing still. I was the only one in class to fall, and I managed to do it at a dead stop. I fell so hard, that everyone on the far side of the rink heard me fall. I fell so hard that the teacher was scared that I was injured. All I know is that it's a good thing I've done plenty of skiing or perhaps I should say plenty of falling while skiing. It didn't even wind me, or bruise me. It only managed to throw my back out, but a quick twist to the side and then the other side fixed it.

Today, I went down to the rink to practice. It seemed like a nice way to do something by myself without the kids. I must have laced my boot wrong because the back of leg has the biggest blister I have ever had. I thank God that I live in the 21st century where neosporin and a band-aid are standard household items. I'm just hoping that it heals up enough by tomorrow's class.

Security System

We've decided to get a security system for our house.

We got a great package deal with it. It includes a weekly date night, and maybe even some quality brother-sister time.

Texan style.

September

A cool breeze creeps along the carpet because we have the front door and the all the windows open. The time is 8:00am, and I am determined to take advantage of an overnight low of 73. There is a deep smell of distant wheat fields and dried grass mixed with cooling asphalt. The wind has kicked up and whisked away the sultry, humid air. I contemplate wearing a jacket. I can hear the radio playing across the street. Someone is listening to the book of Matthew. A little further down a lawn mower starts. The neighborhood is awakening from its summer induced hibernation. My neighbor next door steps out onto her porch and begins to clean her grill.

The girls finally begin to stir. I make them waffles as they listen to the sounds of a Saturday morning. Without being told, they get dressed, brush their teeth, eat their breakfast, and before I can clear the dishes they head outside to play in the backyard. I hear a faint humming from their bedroom, and realize that I forgot to turn off their air conditioner. It was set to 82. But this is a cool morning. As I switch it off, I calculate that I won't have to turn the air conditioners on until after lunch, maybe even later.

I just did it...

I opened my eyes this morning when I heard the small beeping tone of my alarm. Yes, the sound is aptly described as small. I like my new alarm clock because it doesn't scare me awake, it just gently let's me know that it is time to get up. So, I peeled my eyes open at 7:00 this morning, and wondered why it was still dark outside. I stumbled around and turned on lights, coffee maker, stove and then peered out the window as I whisked some eggs together. It was cloudy and gray outside. Then "mommy's toy" went off because we still don't have a range hood, so I opened the kitchen window, and was surprised by a blast of cool air. I shivered. After a month and a half of 100 plus weather, this was a surprise. A nice surprise.

I got Kate up, and threw her lunch together, fed her breakfast, got her shoes onto her feet, and had started to head out to the car, when I said, "wait!" I rushed into our bedroom and found the drawer that contained all of our winter stuff, pulled out a jacket and made her put it on. Then we climbed into the car and drove to school. It started to rain, so the normally 10 minute drive turned into 25 minutes, and we were late. I was glad that I went back for the jacket because it sure was cold out.

I dropped Kate off, made sure she got a tardy slip, and then headed home. That's when I turned on the radio and heard the weather forecast. Possible showers, thunderstorms, high of 95. Did I neglect to tell you that I was wearing shorts?

Rice, sweet rice

The last 8 months have been torturous for me. I have tried, quiet unsuccessfully, to make rice at least a hundred times. I love rice. Rice is a necessary staple for me. January and February were okay months because I still had rice left over from living in Oregon. Homai rice to be exact. And that is where my problems started. They don't sell Homai in Texas, and Homai is the only rice my mom ever bought, the only rice my aunties and grandma and sister ever bought. It's the only rice I ever bought. Why? It just tastes really good, and the kernels cook just right, not too sticky, not too dry, not too crunchy. I could even cook it on the stove without a rice pot, and it would taste just fine.

I broke my rice pot at my sisters wedding, and since then, I've been making rice on the stove. With Homai, it's not a problem. With whatever brand they sell in Texas, it was disastrous. Failure after failure left me feeling inadequately nourished, and thoroughly frustrated. I tried frying the kernels first and then adding water, like a rice pilaf. I tried bringing it to a boil covered and then letting it simmer on low. It tried bringing it to a boil uncovered and then covering it to simmer. I tried more water, less water. The rice remained crunchy and pretty much inedible by my standards.

Last night, I made my first rice in my new rice cooker. Nirvana.