While You Camp, Both Racks are Mine Pal-Scrolling Saturday

Scrolling Saturday began as a way to introduce older posts that flew under the radar -- you know, posts you wrote when only your mother was reading your blog. I'm using it as a chance to dust off an old post so that I can clean up my house (or catch up on responding to comments-- whichever takes priority)

Brought to you by:

Manners and Moxie and Rock and Drool...Mom Gone Mental

Monday, May 19, 2008

My Towel is Purple

We're saving the planet.
One measly laundry load at a time.

I do not wash towels with every use-- what's the point? If you've done the job correctly in the shower or the bath, you're going to rub that soft, fluffy fabric all over your clean body, right? Hung properly, said towel dries quickly and no bacteria grows, so why can't you use it again?
My sentiments exactly (and for those of you panicking and scrolling to the header, you did not accidently click on the Bonbons blog).

We all use our towels for a few days, and then they go into the wash and are replaced by new towels.
My towel is a dark rich purple. Always has been. Well, for the last three years, anyway.
However, since we moved into this house, my towel has been wet.

I get up in the morning, and my towel is wet.
I go to bed at night, my towel is still wet.
What the heck? Is it more humid here, 6 miles from our old home?

So yesterday, I pull out all of the towels from our en suite. I put a new purple towel in there and begin washing the others.
I told the Hubby that he'd need to grab a towel before he showered because I had removed the ones in the bathroom for washing. When I went in a little later, after his shower, there were no new towels and the purple one was... WET.

Well, that's almost comparable to using my toothbrush as far as I'm concerned.

The war was on.

"My towel is the purple one. Why are you using my towel?! Your towel is tan. Your towel is sometimes green, but MY towel is and has always been the purple one!"

"But it was on my towel rack".

He has a towel rack? Who assigned towel racks? In a bathroom with two racks, each holding a tan/purple combination, he assumed one rack was his and one was mine?

Men. He's got some serious issues to work through...

Tippi Hedren, I am Not

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

There's something great about living in a house full of testosterone.

Truly, there is and when I discover what it is I'll let you know.

Since we've been holding our barf-a-thon (clear today, thank you very much), I haven't been out taking a lot of photos. So for your viewing pleasure, I've reached into my folders for something of importance.

I remember this day.
I remember having a lie in.
Gosh, it must've been 8 o'clock or so when my family thought I should not miss the great event happening in our garden.



A Goshawk took down a bird and was ripping it to shreds right on our front lawn.
Cooool.

What can I say, a photo op is a photo op, no matter how disgusting.

'Tis But A Flesh Wound

Like a child pretending to be brave, skittering up to take aim with the stone he hopes will knock the goliath out-yet poised ready to bolt regardless whether or not it hits his mark, I say,

"HAH! Is that the best you can do?!"

In two weeks I've washed every piece of bedding we own. My eye began twitching, our home (we're renting) became threatened with repossession. It took Hubby six days to travel to his new location, only to find he doesn't have access to a phone or wireless connection like he has in spoiled days gone past. The flu ravaged our home and my nerves. I finally got my hot water straightened out, only to have the faucet in the kitchen break. When the children came down the drive shouting "A1 threw up on the bus!" I crumbled into a little heap in the carport and cried the last of my rage at a stroller with two flat tires.

But I say, "Hah!"
I laugh in the face of adversity.
I mock you, purveyor of crappy days, because last time the Hubby left, my eyebrows fell out-- THIS, is piddle compared to that.

So some of you are shaking your heads wondering why I would tempt fate. Because I've gone completely insane, that's why.

What I have learned from this experience is:

• As a renter, I have to pay a small fortune for a Letting Agency to pull up every file that has ever been written about me. I have to deposit my life savings and one small child into a secured account to cover any discrepancies of my character that may show later while leasing a property. But the landlord doesn't have to prove anything. He could be facing bankruptcy of the house he is happily handing you the keys to and no one will know until the damage is done.

• Even clear foods and fluids should not enter a body until it has purged everything.

• Raging at the Hubby only makes you feel better for a little while. Soon every awful thought enters your head and you know that there will be a knock on your door by some sad-faced uniformed gentlemen and you'll be thinking of your last words: "Maybe if you had spent less time going to football games and fixed the stroller tires before you left, I wouldn't be trying to transport a sick baby to and from the bus stop wearing a rain poncho to keep the barf off of me".

So yes, I have no hot water in my kitchen sink- a little bit of a problem when trying to eradicate the flu bugs.
I am impatiently waiting for a court date to come so that I will know whether or not I can finish putting a house in order.
Miss Ky is happily eating everything she can reach-- which is everything since she is an excellent climber.
Despite a rocky start to A1's bout of flu (bus incident and then all over his bed), he has been the easiest to care for thus far.

Most importantly...

Did you ever read The Motel of the Mysteries?

A UFO was spotted over Norfolk England today. The unidentified object appeared sometime around 8.30 this morning and has been hovering in the sky since. It has slowly changed position in the sky, but for the most part has just hovered over the fields.
The light it emits is very bright-- bright enough to be seen in the day, so I can't get a very good picture of it. It's kind of scary, but at the same time,
it almost causes a kind of euphoria... enough to make someone mock adversity.


If you click on this photo, you can see it there-- sneaking behind that cloud.

Miss Ky while traveling in the car started shouting, "Moon! Moon!"

Poor child. Her two years in England this occasion has occurred so rarely, she doesn't even know what to call it. "No sweetie, that's the SUN, now quit staring at it".

One Speaketh Too Sooneth

That face?

The technicolored one...



Is currently planted in the bucket.
One of the many placed throughout the kingdom of Pukefest.

Since this appears to be the 2009 theme for this blog, I need to know which term you're most comfortable with:

• Puke
• Vomit
• Barf
• Boot
• Hurl
• Ralph
• Spew
• Heave
• Toss
• Blow Chunks
• Chuck
• CallRalphOnBigWhitePhone
• York
• Shout Europe at the sink
• Pray to the Porcelain god
• Kohler Cough
• Driving the white porcelain bus, left turn only
• Cantar Oaxaca (Cantar = Spanish for "to sing"; Oaxaca pronounced like "wa-ha-ka")

Provided by naming schemes dot com

Go ahead, admit it, you envy me don't you.

TWENTYFOUR

What did this image do for you?

Did it conjure up a Kieffer Sutherland, terrorists or weapons of mass destruction?

Maybe you read Chris and know this is his not-so-guilty pleasure (please stop by and give him a hug and prayers while you're at it).

But for me,

this is how many hours since Miss Ky last vomited. You're welcome. I like to share good news, even if it is of a disgusting nature.

She's a Very Cheeky Girl

I'm trying to keep Miss Ky away from carpeted areas... for obvious reasons.

The bad thing about a sick toddler is that they don't know they are sick. They still want to eat and play and if they hurl while doing it, oh well.
It has been a real chore and little stressful following her with a bucket. More times than not, we're not ready when Mt. Vesuvius erupts.

Today, the phone rang. Miss Ky talked to her "Nanny" on the phone and when she was finished, I talked. I could hear her rolling the balls around on the football (foosball) table. It didn't register that I shouldn't hear that noise.

This is what I found when I went into the room to get her out of the carpeted area...

I know someday I will look back on all of this and laugh.

It keeps going and going and going

SO the plumber came today. He was unable to fix the hot water faucet I couldn't turn off, but he did fix the pipe that was leaking under the counter.

Oh, you missed that post? Because I didn't.
I didn't post it, I did email it to the Hubby though:

I think I've been a pretty good sport about this, but today I'm done.

Last night the hot water in the kitchen sink wouldn't turn off. drip drip drip-- enough to fill a four-cup measuring cup in less than 15 minutes. hot water. so I looked under the sink to find a shut off valve-- however, only the cold water has one and that's dripping. I called (landlord) who called a plumber and the plumber said he'd come "either in the morning or the afternoon". Well that narrowed it down. I have hot water dripping (do I need to tell you this morning I had another cold shower and watching hot water go unused down the drain makes me sad?)
I have no milk because the milk man doesn't come until 9.30 or 10 (and the kids have been too sick for me to go buy any), I have throw up in my laundry room on pillows and blankets and towels. Now, I can't go out to get milk since I don't know when the plumber is coming. (None of that went together, but I'm not going for awards today).

So, I checked the under-sink water pitcher (since I'm dumping that every few hours as well) and discover that the hose to the side of the little sink (you know, the little hole meant to prevent overflow) has come undone (completely detached due to...moisture?) and so my full pitcher that had water dripping and splashing in it from midnight to 7 splashed into that overflow hole and everything on THAT side of the under-cabinet is soaked. You know-- dish tablets, trash bags and cleaning supplies.

UNCLE.
There, I've said it. Really. I'm done.

(you'll probably be glad to know that the Hubby is in an area where email and phones are not in abundance so America is still safe since he can't get a daily dose of my whining)

The plumber came and couldn't repair it. It's dripping dripping dripping. I'm ok with that, it's not like I have a problem wasting the Earth's resources.

Miss Ky did a projectile hurl across the foyer I had just vacuumed (tmi?). We looked like a keystone cops movie-- everyone running in circles, but no one knowing where the bucket was.

I cried. and cursed. and prayed for a meteor to drop down on my house... sound familiar? Yeah, this is how I enjoyed last January too, I think.

And for you kind people concerned about my current housing dilemma: I am in limbo until the court date which takes place in a couple of weeks. You know I will keep you posted (run now).

3 Questions:

• How come real life plumbers don't look anything like Mike Delfino?
• Where can I get a new 2 year-old? Mine seems to be broken.
• Have you pre-ordered your Twilight DVD yet?

Announcement:

Would the owner of a large black cloud raining Murphy's Law down on the Gutter please remove it at once?

You'll Be Glad to Know...

We're going to live.

I would not wish this flu on my worst troll (no, not even you anonymous).

After a week of nursing Miss Ky through this stuff (she's still not over it), semi-sleeping with a baby monitor on so that I could change her bedding when she got sick, I was awakened by the sounds of J2 throwing himself into the bathroom. I ran to his aid and suddenly thought, uh oh. "I'll be back!" I said. I lied. I couldn't get back.

While J2 laid on his bed with bucket in hand, I gathered phones and set them in bed with me (it was 4 am).

Morning came and I actually left the care of my unwell two-year old toddler in her 8 year-old brother's hands with the admonishment: "Do NOT let her eat anything other than toast or a half of a banana".
30 minutes later,
clump clump clump clump (and the sound of fat little legs pushing against a diaper) arrives at the side of my bed. smelling. like peanut butter.

"A1!! Did you feed MIss Ky peanut butter?!"

A2 (5 year old): "I didn't. I gave her yogurt".

Holy cow.

Knowing I would be consulted very soon for a clean up in aisle 10 when her tummy purged the feast, I crawled from my bed- very carefully because any movement set the violence off again.
"Why is she soaking wet?!"
"I dunno".

Never leave a toddler in the hands of two young boys even if you're dying.

That you for the lurves and comments, please know that while I am walking around in pj's with my hair standing every which way, your comments brightened my day. I hope to respond by tomorrow when I don't feel like someone has beaten me with a 2x4.

Are You Outstanding in Your Field?

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

We get freezing fog here in England.

Although it's a mess for people who still have to go to work, it's beautiful for those of us wielding cameras.

Still in the process of moving, I had to go to the old house to let some prospective renters in to view it. As I was driving there, I was kicking myself (hard to do when you're driving) for not having my camera because the scenery was stunning. I chided myself that I wouldn't have time to stop to shoot pictures anyway since the appointment was only a few minutes away.

Those people were late.
A lot late
and the whole time I waited I was thinking about the sun beginning to peek through the fog and how I was missing some great pictures.

Fortunately, my drive back was just as beautiful.

I pulled into the drive, ran into the house to grab the camera and shot back out past my bewildered family...
but didn't get the shots I imagined. No matter what setting I used I couldn't capture the sparkle or the trees lining the roads looking like Ansel Adams (renowned for his black and white infrared photography of landscapes--white trees) had placed them there.

Gorgeous.

As I stood there trying to forever capture the scene into my memory,
I looked to my left and saw these:



It's planting time again and the farmers get creative with their scarecrows.

These bird frighteners are out, standing in the fields.

Ever Wonder?

Dear Me in the 90's, (Yes, I'm in the letter writing stage...)

You keep asking yourself, "Why?".

No matter how carefully you apply your make-up (all three colours of eye shadow),


or how big you get your hair to stand,
you are the last one standing when there's a meat market event.
Everyone gets hit on but you, even the big-hipped girl who's already married.

Yes, you're smiling, making eye contact doing everything you think you should do-- nothing. Nada. Zip...

...even now, 20 years later, I don't have any answers for you. Sorry.

However, I do have a few things I'd like you to know.

First of all, you rock as a Mom.

When you were forced to be Dad and Mom for a better part of J's young life, you excelled. Remember taking him camping near a deer farm for Easter?
So your judgement of mountain camping in March wasn't the best, but he loved petting the deer and having your undivided attention.

Second, you know this thing you have about feeling fat?
Sweetheart, THIS is not fat.

THIS could be one of the reasons you are not asked out. Would you like to hug a skeleton?

This is fat.


Actually, I don't even like that word, how about "huggable"? and before you go running to the diet pills now knowing what you will look like in 20 years, stop.
You will have a husband who actually prefers you pregnant!
You will never worry about how you look again when you see yourself through his eyes.

Oh, you could use a little sun.

Living in the mountains is not good for your look. You probably sparkle when you enter sunny meadows.

And this night?

The night you got hit on more than any other night in your life?


Still can't explain it, sorry.

Did you See? Did You See?

Come on, every news station in the world saw it, did you?

Itzhak Perlman (remember, I've mentioned him before) played! It was beautiful.

Let's see, what else happened today...

Oh yeah.

Hey lady with the permanent scowl. Did you honestly think I purposely took my daughter to stand in line at the Pizza Hut Express JUST so that she could throw up while you waited for your bread sticks? Don't you think you acted a little irrationally treating me like I was the scum mother of the year?
Oh, and just in case you mistook that look I gave you after I came out of the bathroom from cleaning my poor little two-year old leper up, it was my "death to all ugly people" look. It was the look to replace how badly I wanted to make a scene by walking over to your table to say, "Hey, my week sucked. Do you see this bag? Do you see me holding shoes or clothes or makeup or perfume? NO! I dragged my daughter an hour from home to deal with the bank again about the repossession of our rental and thought I'd pick up some fire alarms since the ones in the house don't work (I tested them with some biscuits), mail off our Wii that chose to stop working when I desperately needed a babysitter and did I mention my husband is DEPLOYED while I'm looking for a new place to live?"

But I know people like you. You hardened person who either A., has never had children so you obviously know more about parenting than I do, or B., had them so stinking long ago you've forgotten how surprising it can be to have a giggling child suddenly throw up.

I forgive you.
You know why?
I'm feeling generous. I saw Itzhak Perlman play today.

Dear Elmer,

Just a suggestion for your glue sticks (I'm also sending a similar letter to the makers of a sparkly perfume):
You may want to reconsider the packaging shape since my two youngest seem to think your product is Chapstick.

Yea, Though I Walk

Yesterday's lesson at church was about adversity.

We learned about tribulation leaders have gone through in the past and how they were prepared for trials yet to come by the hardships they endured. The whole point of the lesson was to say: We don't know why God gives us the adversity we have, we can't see the entire picture. We just have to endure them well and know they are for our benefit.
THAT'S what everyone else heard.

The half-glass empty gal (me) was thinking, "You mean I am going through all of this crap to make me stronger for the even bigger crap to come?!"

That's encouraging.

School was cancelled today + it's raining= insanity.

I Love our Military Life

Since I am at the mercy of sporadic internet and no time to cohesively write a post, here's something from my draft folder--as is, not returnable, sorry. And yes, the Hubby is gone. This was written while we were waiting. Sorry for any confusion.



I really do (love the military). Despite my constant murmuring, I do appreciate that I don't wake up every morning wondering if my husband will be "made redundant" (laid off) today.

I appreciate that we were able to have the children without burying ourselves in debt.

I like that I can get Lucky Charms when I'm an ocean away from the U.S., and the opportunities to live abroad.

What I don't like is the waiting.

I don't like preparing for my husband to leave by a certain date and have that date come and go.

It's like having an ingrown toenail scheduled for removal. You dread the surgery, but gear up for it-- prepare yourself mentally and then the appointment gets re-scheduled. Ok, that might be a horrible metaphor since that surgery actually brings relief and there's no relief to sending your husband into danger, but I think you get my point.

We went into the weekend thinking he'd been gone at any moment. It's tuesday and he's still hogging my side of the bed (not a complaint, he's my heater). It looks like he may be here for the two funerals we'll attend this week (yes, 2009 is starting brilliantly).

We continue to plug away at putting things in order and tweaking the heating system (hard to do when you go from -9 to freezing fog to 8 degrees in a few days).

AND he's talking to me while I type this post (ok, maybe the toenail thing might have been accurate after all-- I'm working here).

We went on a date to see Australia last night. I think it's our 3rd date in 12 months. The jury is still out on what I thought of the movie (I have to chew on it a bit). Are Nicole Kidman's eyes REALLY that blue? Gorgeous. But she needs to eat.


As I was comparing Drover to Leopold, Leopold was winning-- until one point in the movie (can't tell you, it might spoil it for you) where I knew why he was voted the Sexiest Man alive.
Boy Howdy.
If you've seen it, shoot me a comment and see if you can guess which point I was ready to crawl up into the screen and take this lovely man home with me.

My Day in a Nut(case) Shell

I can't guarantee my blog will pull out of the whinging stage, do you need me to start a different one to keep track of this deployment? I'm losing followers...

Deployment Day one (well not really since he hasn't reached his destination): 3.45 am drove Hubby to catch his flight. Returned to the house at 7 to pack lunches and get kids moving. Kids were especially helpful today--excluding Princess Shouts-a-lot who insisted on doing everything her way and nearly made the boys miss their bus.

9:00 Began an all-day campaign of legal nightmare. This possibility of having to move in three weeks is very real.

Tried to convince Miss Ky that she was tired so that I could nap. No such luck. She finally napped around 2 pm at which time I straightened up a little. I refuse to unpack anymore until I know if it's for good.

10:00 Remembered what the Hubby said about turning the hot water back onto the program since he took it offline to run on electricity (instead of oil) to make sure I could get a shower (never got the shower, it wasn't in Miss Ky's plans for the day)

3.45 Received another Possession Proceedings notice for the house and again contacted the Base.

Remember when I told you how our road was closed the week we moved in? It was BT and since then my internet is worse than dial-up. I can't load pages, forget seeing any videos and yesterday it took me two hours to get an responding email out. BT, you've done something VERY bad to the broadband line. Needless to say, I really am not a self-absorbed jerk that cares less what you're doing in your life, I've just been cut off from my life-line....that's all.
I am typing this at 6.35 am (I would be showering but for some reason our hot water has decided to quit working) not even sure if it's going to post or not.

So today I have an appointment with the bank to stop my rent payment from going in and with the housing office who will be showing me new homes-- only A2 came home with a notice that he is receiving a certificate today in the school assembly and rather than do it at 9 am as usual, they changed it to 10 am which just threw all of my appointments in the garbage.

Husband, if you've found some free wireless and you're reading on your ipod, I have no hot water and the program for the central heating has taken a vacay as well. I'd say email, but if you don't do it before I lose this line....

The rest of you-- wow, I'm so glad you're out there. I am not curled up in a ball feeling sorry for myself, so no need for sympathy. I'm desperate to hear what's happening in your lives, if you wouldn't mind, could you give me a highlight/glimpse (or synopsis)(in all of your spare time) in my comment section?

oh... look, three more people probably just stopped following. *sigh*

My Left Eye Won't Quit Twitching

Those crazy emotions that come with a deployment.

There's the I-just-want-to-hurry-up-and-start-dealing-with-this feelings that come when you're contemplating the ordeal.

There's the fear.

Impatience when you're stewing over what still needs taking care of: wills, Power of Attorney, passwords, checklists that go on an on.

There's excitement of having a little mini-vacation where you sleep diagonally in the bed and stay up to watch any movie while eating chips--in bed. That wears off in a couple of days though after being the only one doing two people's jobs.

There's the wall. The one that goes up as you try to gear up for being alone. The wall is the hardest, and unfortunately, each spouse builds one. It usually comes tumbling down as you approach the drop off point for the deploying member-- leaving you to arrive back to your empty home either numb or a blubbering mess.

Regrets. There's always regrets. I suppose it could compare somewhat to the regrets one feels at the death of a loved one, "I wish I had...", "I'm sorry I didn't make____ a priority".

The hubby will be arriving at his first stop while I am racing kids to their activities. He could be there for days, so I can't begin counting down to his return since technically he's not deployed just yet.
The last 36 hours he was here, we were dealing with the possibility that this house we just moved may soon be repossessed (we're renting, so the worse case scenario is we'll be given a couple of days to move our things out if it happens). We had to contact the banks taking action, the Landlord and the Base Housing Management office. I'll let you know if we become homeless.

In the meantime...
this eye twitch that I've developed the last few months when stressed, my google results show that it could be caused by damage to nerves (possible since during the allergy attacks, I was forced to rub makeup down my face every few minutes) or stress (funny).
What I'm also reading is that other than cutting the nerves, there's not a lot I can do about it.

That's where you come in. please.
Any homeopaths out there? Any natural relaxants anyone recommends?

Until chaos allows me back out again,

Dear Obtuse Person I live With...

...All I wanted was a little lie-in. Just one. I'm tired. I have been lifting heavy furniture, moving heavy boxes and cleaning new and old houses all while caring for our family-- keeping up with your laundry and theirs. I have cooked you a hot meal all but one of those nights, despite the fact that I just wanted a nap. Each night at midnight when I've dropped into bed and complained that I hurt, you laughed.

I did point out just today that the other wives we know wouldn't have been able to help carry four wardrobes down a flight of stairs and load them into a vehicle, so I resent that A. you always expect me to do this (don't you know any men?!) and B. have the nerve to laugh when I tell you I'm hurting. Holy cow, I am 44 years old and have birthed five huge basketballs, when do I get to stop acting like I'm a 24-year old body builder?

I also am a little resentful of the fact that I have had to be your personal secretary to keep you focused.

So, sue me, I threw a little hissy when Friday night rolled around and you talked of setting your alarm for 6 am on Saturday morning. I explained that I was tired and it would possibly be the last lie-in I had for 6 months. You wanted to set the alarm to get a head start on going into town to buy caulk. Caulk won't wait until 9? You relented, didn't set the alarm, but did blind me awake with lights by 7.
Thanks. Oh, by the way... nothing has been caulked.

Two more days came and went while you were "standing by" (waiting for that call that would tell you when you were leaving) and I got up and fed the kids, dressed them, packed their lunches. You did manage to come down by the time they left for school.

Tonight you are at a football game and two of the boys are throwing things in the house and Miss Ky is chasing them, having thrown her dinner down for extra floor padding for her feet. Again, sue me, I came to blogland to keep from taking my frustration out on them.

I am not a "hinter". I do not sit on my hands and hope you know what I need. All I wanted was a lie-in. Was it so much to ask?

Sincerely,
The person you live with that could easily keep a few boxes packed for an easy escape.

I Have a Dream

I believe that dreams are usually one of two things:

First, it's our mind's way of working through the things it is faced with daily-- a chance for our subconscious to limp us through problems occurring in our lives.
Second, it's a way for God (or the Higher Being you pour your heart out to) to speak to us. Prophets have been instructed in dreams, so don't think that you're too obtuse to receive advice while your mouth is a drool well. I've had a few dreams that I know were more than nightly entertainment.

So I'm trying to categorize last night's dream.

The one that had my heart racing while praying fervently.
A huge alien ship was descending upon us as we all watched in horror.

Third: Never watch Dr. Who when your mind is too busy to process the moving house you tried to complete in a nano second with sick kids; the closed road that made it extremely difficult to come and go from your new home; the friendly neighbors with 2 horses named Tanya and Ellie, 3 dogs named Lucy, Benjii, and Rosie and the goat whose name you didn't catch (and all of their ages); your husband's deployment that he hasn't been given a date for (AF apparently finds it's more exciting to call and say "You're leaving now"); and the surprising call from your mother about the trip she and her three sisters and one cousin are planning to make to your house in the Spring--while the husband is deployed--flying into an airport that is 3 hours away from your home while the four kids are on a half-term break (do the math-- no one has that many seats in their car or someone stupid enough to look after four kids).

It's not wise. Especially if you're trying to watch aforementioned show in between activities, because something that was supposed to be entertaining gets shoved into the back of your mind and mistaken for a problem that needs solving.

Here's what I learned from the dream:

You cannot hide under bushes. The aliens will find you.
Go ahead, BlogJosephs, interpret that.

PSF Momma's Boy

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek


J1's dad stepped out of our lives when I was only 5 months pregnant. The story is too long as to why or who was at fault, but believe me, it took two to destroy that relationship-- not three as sometimes a child will try to believe.

When our son was 7, Deadbeat cautiously became Dad, although it was from a distance and with a new wife at his side. Being from a very small town, I heard every doubt, criticism and frustration J1's dad and his wife muttered, but the one that stands out in my mind was, "I don't believe Deadbeat's really his father-- he's NOTHING like Db", meaning that my son who had grown up in a single parent home didn't act like his father. Db hunted. He lived for being drawn in any hunt lottery. He had thousands of dollars worth of guns and the sportiest vehicles to carry them in.
In contrast, I was scraping by. There was one low point when we didn't have enough money for toilet paper, so my bathroom was stocked with those little purse-packs of tissue that places gave away. Me and the little guy read. a lot. The library was our outings. We spent time together laughing, singing and acting out movie roles. We went to school theatrical performances (cheaper).

When my university degree was nearly finished. I splurged one Christmas to take J1 to see Phantom of the Opera. He was enamoured and vowed to be on a stage like that one day. That's where the ugly comment came from. J1 was too "artsy" to really have come from his dad. (!)

13 years later, Deadbeat's guns have been stolen and he works long hours. I think he leases his vehicles now.

J1 has developed my eye for beauty around him. He loves taking pictures. While he was here, that was the primary thing we did together. We drove through the countryside talking and stopping on a dime to catch the right light hitting farmland.



We traipsed all over London at night so that he could get a panoramic shot of the London Eye and Parliament.



I will treasure that time and I took plenty of shots of him taking photos to keep it fresh in my mind.

Ooga Aga Ooga Aga

I can't stop this feelin'-- wait, that's not what this post is about.

This is your basic "All About My Aga" post that I know everyone has been sitting on the edge of their computers waiting for.

Everything you ever wanted to know about an Aga-- it's here folks, look no further. (ok, maybe Google was your better option)
Some of you said you'd never heard of it before. Don't hang your head in shame, the first one I ever saw was in a small cottage with a tiny kitchen and this monstrous beast-looking thing was taking up precious oven room. Didn't I look stupid when I asked if the landlord would be removing it before we moved in. He informed me that it was "the bee's knees" and people really wanted them.

I hate looking stupid, so I researched and he was right. I wanted one. There are Americans over here complaining that they can't get theirs to work properly, or that they can't figure theirs out ...but it's because they didn't take the time to learn about their cool toy. I did and am TOTALLY enjoying mine.

First of all, an Aga is a cast iron monster that can set you back about £9000.00 for a really good one. Since it's cast iron, your foods cook evenly and the moisture isn't lost.

It is on all of the time, you don't shut it off when you're finished cooking. Leaving it on actually uses LESS fuel than an average stove/oven because no heat is lost (your average oven has to keep reheating to maintain an even temperature).
The Aga is like a traditional baker's brick oven, producing wonderful biscuits and featherlight pastries.

The one I have has two ovens. One is a roasting oven, using a higher temp to cook roasts (28 pound turkey can cook in about 3 hours) and a simmering oven for steaming fish or stewing meats or slow cooking. I can move things from one oven to the other rather than turning the heat down or up as I need it.













There's two hot plates, same theory. The intense heat allows water to boil almost instantly on one and after I've reached that boil, I move the pan to the other to let it simmer. This morning I made scrambled eggs for breakfast burritos while I heated the tortillas on the other. Several pots or pans can be placed on each plate at the same time. Only a portion of the pan needs to be on the plate to still get great results.



Since the Aga is always on, the kitchen stays warm and inviting.

Brilliant. I love this thing. I did tell the Hubby that the Air force is going to have a really hard time getting me out of here. I may tie myself to it.

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OTHER NEWS

The move went really well and our new house is starting to look homey-- a very cluttered chaotic homey. Our first couple of days in here, it snowed and then the UK was hit with an arctic blast. I waited for 15 minutes at the kids' bus stop in -9c weather, only to discover that the bus couldn't get through because of a road closure.

And finally, thank you for your support these last few days. I've decided to postpone the lobotomy for now. I can't tell you how much I appreciated your comments and reassurances that I am not alone with the current parenting stage I am in.

Thank you!

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Emotions are draining.
I'm wondering if there's a prescription to numb feelings. Or maybe lobotomies are still available?

It's 6 am and I just waved my oldest off into the frosty darkness for his travel back to the U.S.
I'm teetering between sobbing on my keyboard or cooking breakfast for the other kids before they return to school today at the end of their Christmas holiday.

There's a Risk board set up on our dining table that sits there as a reminder of things that weren't and I'm not ready to dismantle it. I'm not ready to look at the territory cards my son held in his hand (with gleeful thoughts of destroying our armies) for fear I might discover this could have been his year to win (a good thing since I usually slaughter everyone with dumb luck). It's tradition in our house to play Lord of the Rings Risk for New Year's Eve, but this year, we were moving on the 2nd and so even though the game remain unpacked, the table wasn't available.

J1 hovered around, very unhelpfully, questioning when the game would begin and I explained that the minute we got into the new place it would go up. It didn't. It did go up Sunday, but he was in rare form with his insults and impatience and when I tried explaining to him that he was going to need to learn to have more tolerance for other people, he started spouting off how we criticise him all of the time and he's tired of it. I was finished with him and the game.

And so it sat.

All day yesterday.
When my Husband got up and left the house early Monday morning on our last day together as a family, it set me off. He returned with tools to drill holes in walls and caulk for tubs and windows... and proceeded to work despite my protests.

The game taunted me from the dining area.

I could also hear in my head, my son (on Friday night), "I haven't really had any time with Dad-- what's going on on Monday?"

By 3.30 I had a washer and dryer hooked up, but I never wanted to see my husband again. His deployment couldn't begin quickly enough. I watched the clock like a woman on death row and despaired as the only sunshine we had (for the 2 1/2 weeks while J1 was here) slowly faded into dusk.
In all fairness to the Hubby, there was all of the time before that last day that a very reclusive man-child wasted. His appearance rarely happened before 11 so he never had breakfast with us. He complained of boredom while we packed and even while there were people hauling things into our house for us. He chose not to attend church with us ("no one ever woke me up"), not even for the Christmas Carol service. He was completely self-absorbed and pining for his girlfriend. I wanted to get a family shot of us outside of a castle or other English heritage site, but he said "I'm not interested in buildings". He had in his mind the things he wanted to do and most of them didn't include his siblings.

There was laughter. There were good times, but not as many as there should have been for that length of time.

So you can imagine the state of my emotions as I stood in the darkness with icy crunching under my feet and watched the car tail lights fade from view. The regrets of things that never were. The photos we never took, the fun we never had, the game we never played. Wasted sunshine. Wasted moments.

I want to crawl back into my bed and pull the covers up, but there's four little faces that are going to come downstairs in a moment. Faces that will be excited to begin school again to see their friends. Faces that will bravely try not to cry that their brother is gone again.
Love stinks.

I'll take that lobotomy now.

She's Baaack and Whinging in the New Year

Some people try to make themselves hard to love.

You may know one...
Someone who is negative.
Sarcastic.
Sometimes caustic.

Any sane person would distance herself from someone like that...
From someone who can drain the fun right out of Disney World with their intolerance,
arrogance, or prejudices.

What do you do when they're family though?

I believe we have unconditional love in our family, but my oldest would tell you we don't. He'd tell you we only criticise him (which is NOT true, I have holes in my tongue from biting it all of the times he needed a good telling off during his stay).

He is a brilliant, talented, creative individual who is currently sporting a massive chip on his shoulder. I hope this is just a stage.
Is there a stage called "Terrible Twenties"?

Here's to 2009!

The next time you hear from me, I will be broadcasting from our new place. We'll be without internet *gasp* until the 5th, at which time I intend to play catch up. If there's a particular post you'd like me to read, please email me the link or leave it in the comments.

*since I began this post, Hubby talked to BT and they're predicting our original hookup-- maybe as early as tomorrow!

My little boy is finally playing today. That was one nasty sick spell he had. It was like he went through three different illnesses. Thanks for your concern and kind thoughts.

2008 sucked.

Fine, I guess it's in all in the perspective one sees it. I could dwell on the fact that I lost a good friend (two actually because when the husband died, the wife I knew went as well), a sweet neighbor and a beloved uncle. I could focus on the blues that I just couldn't shake completely, or the homesickness that crept up out of nowhere and kicked me in the buttocks.

Or

I could give thanks for the miracle or waking up to my family each day; that we have the finances we need to bring our oldest to us for the holidays; for the convenience of email (to keep in touch with our parents and my Hubby when he's out playing in the middle east), and blogs.

It was a good year in the fact that I have made some amazing friendships with people I would otherwise have never met. It was a good year because our country remains free and optimistic and there's still a few countries that love and respect it.
Through the tragedy of Dave's death, our circle of friends here has grown tighter and more intimate. He'd like that.



So, 2008 was not all parties and laughs. I'm glad to see it go and look forward to this next year with great expectations.


I don't set New Year's goals, but do consider changes that could be made in my life.
For instance, there won't be weight loss goals, but I do want to live healthier.
I want to sing and dance more. I want to play more, entertain more and and see more England. I don't think that's too unrealistic...

How was 2008 for you? Anything you'd like to shake off? What would you like to see happen in 2009?