The One That Got Away: Part II

The latest escape involved the mouse who lives in Great-Grandma's kitchen. When we arrived in Indianapolis, we dropped John Mark and Becca off at Great-Grandma and Grandpa's apartment for the night. While we were visiting, Philip exclaimed, "There's a mouse!" It was one of those times that it would have been much better to keep his mouth shut, but- too late. A long discussion on mouse-catching techniques ensued, and John explained to the kids that it is possible to scare a mouse to death once it is caught. "All you do," he explained, "is tell it BOO! It's already so scared that it will have a heart attack and die right there." The kids were not buying it, but he kept on and finally had them convinced. The next afternoon at Thanksgiving dinner, John Mark and Becca relayed The Rest of the Story:

John Mark gets up in the night to go to the restroom and lo and behold, the mouse shows up in the bathroom. It scampers into the closet and into a bag which happened to be lying upon the floor. John Mark picks up the bag and makes what may be the easiest mouse-catch in the history of the world. But now what to do? He did not want to put the poor thing outside where it might freeze to death, so he decides to scare it to death. He opens the bag, where the mouse is shaking and staring up at him. "BOO!" says John Mark.

Nothing happens.

"BOO!"
"BOO!"

The mouse stares at John Mark and John Mark tries one last time: "BOO!"

The mouse grows tired of this and finally seizes the opportunity to JUMP out of the bag and scamper off in the direction from which it came. The next day, John Mark has to explain to Great-Grandma that the mouse was caught but escaped and is still on the loose.

Fortunately, John Mark has a great sense of humor and can laugh at the fact that he had been taken by his father- hook, line and sinker. The rest of us are simply glad that Dad is a Christian as well as a world-class liar; otherwise, he'd be a criminal mastermind.

The One That Got Away: Part I

So deer hunting season ended for my guys with nary a shot fired. After several fruitless (and cold!) hunting expeditions, Mr. Big Buck waltzed right into our backyard to gloat at Hunter-Man and Hunter-Boy. John and Ben came outside Sunday before last to make a doughnut run, and there he was, standing right in the garden patch. John quietly told Ben, "Get in the van and be still!" and he went back into the house to get his shotgun. "John Mark, go look out the window!" John Mark sauntered over to the window and gasped, "There's a buck!" But the Hunter-Boy is not such a morning person and could not find the ammo before the buck said, "Nah-nah-na-nah-nah!" and waltzed off again. (And, in all fairness, they also discovered later that the cat had been throwing herself in desperation against the downstairs window over and over, to try to get at that deer. What deer in its right mind would put up with that?) When John got back out to the van, Ben exclaimed, "Dad, guess what just walked past my window!" If John had just sat in the van, he could have reached out and grabbed that sucker by the antlers. Mr. Big Buck and Mrs. Doe made one last appearance in our garden later that night, knowing full well that it is illegal to hunt after dark. My Hunter Duo was left shaking their heads at the irony of it all.

In Spite of the Bad Mother Award...

Yesterday afternoon we walked inside the house after a long, rainy trip back home from Indiana and my 6-year-old asked, "Mom, can I get a bath? I haven't had one in four days."

!!!!!!!!

You see, we shuffled kids around Indianapolis (thank you, Aunt Gayle!), and then all of us finally ended up at Grandma and Grandpa's again, sharing one tiny bathroom in their tiny house. It was fun, but it was... close and we were constantly on the go and everyone assumed that somewhere along the lines, the little guys were catching a bath here or there. False! So if you happen to need a boost in your mothering ego, you can think to yourself, "Well, at least my kids have been getting regular baths" and you would be most justified in thinking that we have all lost our minds around here.

We did have a great time though. I went shopping, but after last year, I promised myself that no sale was worth standing in line at 5:30 in the morning. But I must not have been in a holiday mood this year either- I spent a whopping $35, including lunch at Panera's and a visit to Half-Price Books. What was wrong with me? John and I went to the mall together later in the day, and he shopped for me while I piddled around and got a chair massage from the Chinese people in front of Bath and Body Works. I think he got something in the lingerie department. I hope it is a new robe; it's possible that he has noticed that my old one has holes in some very unfortunate places. It's also possible that this is a repeat of the first Christmas after we were married, when my gift came from Frederick's of Hollywood... but surely he knows better than that. Plus, I take comfort from the fact that JC Penney is a far cry from Frederick's of Hollywood.

We went to The Cheesecake Factory afterwards and split their appetizer sampler and a piece of Kahlua Mocha cheesecake.... mmmmmm! And the next evening, we had dinner out again and then went to Goodwill together, because Indianapolis has the most fabulous Goodwill stores and we are both cheap. We topped it off with a visit to Starbucks, so maybe we aren't quite cheap enough. In the meantime, the kids played with their cousin Hannah, raked leaves, and went to the movies and Bouncer Town with their Grandparents. John got to spend quality time getting trounced by his brother at chess and talking with his father late into the night, and a good time was had by all. Thanksgiving 2007 was a happy one, whether we all had baths or not.

Over the River and Through the Woods...

to Grandma's house we have come. Most years, we spend Thanksgiving with John's family in Indianapolis, and here we are again. Due to some unusual circumstances within the family, the kids are scattered from relative to relative, and John and I are at his parents' house, where Thanksgiving dinner was also held this afternoon. Thanksgiving dinner is a big, happy, crowded gathering with feasting, football-watching and game-playing until one by one, relatives reluctantly begin heading back home, leaving John, his dad, and his brother Mike to enjoy chess and perhaps a cigar together. It's tradition.

I always enjoy coming to Indiana for Thanksgiving; it has lots of happy memories for me. John brought me here the first Thanksgiving after we met so that I could meet his family. They were all highly intrigued to meet the crazy person who had fallen in love with him, and I was highly excited. He bought plane tickets for the two of us to fly in from Baton Rouge, and his parents met us at the airport to take us back to the home on Carol Drive where he had lived since he was four years old. I was enthralled with every aspect of his life, from the neighborhood where he had delivered papers since middle school, to his old room, which still held a good bit of his boyhood junk, to the huge drawer full of family photos. We stayed up late into the night while he dutifully showed me the photos which chronicled the story of his life. I was finally meeting the people who had made him into the man I had fallen in love with, and I was enchanted.

In the days before kids, Thanksgiving was a low-key affair, but the prep work was always an event. I padded into the kitchen that first Thanksgiving morning to find every fan in the house going at full speed and John's dad standing over dozens of slices of bread with a hair dryer because he had forgotten to dry the bread for the stuffing. John comes by his personality quirks quite honestly. We had dinner at his Aunt Gayle's that year, and everyone was on their very best behavior, lest they scare this poor girl away. But they shouldn't have worried- John already had me reeled in.

The day after Thanksgiving, we joined the Black Friday crowds at the mall, where he took me to all the jewelry stores! We had discussed marriage, but this was my first real sign that this was all "for real." I was beyond excited at this unexpected turn of events, and I'm sure my fiancee-to-be was relieved that my tastes in jewelry are simple. I floated throughout the day, and then that evening, we drove downtown for dinner at Union Station, an old train station which had been converted into shops and restaurants. We ate fabulous seafood, listened to the brass quintet playing Christmas carols, enjoyed the shops all decorated for the season, and took a carriage ride together while we watched the lighting of the giant Christmas tree in the Circle. Our first Thanksgiving together was wonderful, magical, romantic, perfect. We flew back home on Sunday with an armful of bridal magazines, totally in love and full of anticipation for the visit to my family at Christmas.

That was five children and seventeen years ago. Trips to Indiana are now more likely to focus on activities for the kids, get-togethers with the aunts and uncles, and perhaps a Colts or a Pacers game rather than romantic adventures for just the two of us, but the memories are still magical. I love coming "home" to Indiana.

The Maple Tree

This is "my" maple tree. I can see its leaves through my bedroom window. I love to watch it every morning as I wake up (I am not a morning person, and waking up is a rather long process). Over the past week, I've watched its leaves go from a cheery golden color to... this. The kids have been raking its leaves, and now they sit in a huge pile under the bare boughs. Fall came and went in a hurry.

November

by John Updike

The stripped and shapely
Maple grieves
The ghosts of her
Departed leaves.

The ground is hard,
As hard as stone.
The year is old,
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
In its distress,
Displays a certain
Loveliness-

The beauty of
The bone. Tall God
Must see our souls
This way, and nod.

Give thanks: we do,
Each in his place
Around the table
During grace.

I Am Thankful...

to have my microwave back. Yea microwaves!

I am not thankful for the writers' strike that has delayed the production of 24, one of only TWO shows that I like to watch. Well, three if you count The Cosby Show... but let's not count that. If you're a 24 fan, you gotta see this video of what 24 would have looked like in 1994- too funny! Thanks, Nancy!

I Love November

I love November.

I love the lingering bright gold days of autumn, when the trees display their stained-glass leaves against a crystal blue sky.

I love the cool gray days when a mist hangs in the air, making our average neighborhood blend into a collage of color as beautiful as a Monet painting.

I love the blustery days that are a precursor of winter days to come, and I love the crisp nights when the moonlight shines cold and clear upon the barren fields across the road from our home.

I love the festive grocery displays of nuts, spices, powdered chocolate, almond bark, and candy sprinkles. It's the only time of year that actually inspires me to want to cook.

I love the anticipation of the holidays, the calm before the chaos.

I love holiday travel, with hugs and kisses waiting at the end of the road.

I love special times with family and friends centered around an all-day eating frenzy with all of our favorite dishes, and then catching up on the year's events together in sated contentment while the guys yell at the football game in the front room.

I love November.

Seder Preperations

The Haggadah (the "program" for the Seder) is written, printed, copied, folded and stapled
Kids (mostly) know their lines for the Passover Play
Tables are set
Church hall is decorated
Gefilte fish are in the fridge
Photographer is engaged (thanks, Stephanie!)
Two Egyptian costumes are made
Six Biblical costumes are laid out on the couch

Our homeschool co-op Passover Celebration (seder) is tonight. I know it's not the "right" time of year, but we just studied Egypt, and well, you know those crazy homeschoolers... Anyway, this production has been an enormous amount of work, and definitely much more work on my end than our normal end-of-semester celebrations. John joked, "Seders sure are a lot of work! Haggadah do this, haggadah do that, haggadah go here, haggadah go there...." We shared a much-needed laugh together. He has been practicing blowing his shofar every morning at the top of the stairs to call the kids out of bed. It sounds awful, but believe it or not, he has improved! I told him this was not the right holiday for this, but John does not care- he is determined to have the shofar. I am worn out, but I believe we are as ready as we are going to get. Now I'm off to do the last thing on my list before the craziness begins... take a nap!

A Tribute: Part II

December 7, 1941: "a date which will live in infamy." Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor, decimating most of the Pacific fleet, and America was finally at war. Draft notices began arriving at the homes of young men across the nation, and William, R.B., and James were among the first to ship out. Their mother, Verlie, had some small comfort in the fact that Ernie was still too young to enlist, and besides, with club feet, would the army really even want him? She watched her boys go and spent the next four years on her knees.

William joined the Army Air Force, the precursor to the U.S. Air Force, and received specialized training in Radio Operator and Mechanics School. He would become the radar operator in the big B-24 Bombers that flew over Rommel's tanks in North Africa and over the U-Boats in the Atlantic. R.B. joined the Army as an infantryman, and James joined the Navy as a pharmacist's mate. He would serve in the Pacific Islands, once getting stranded with a wounded sailor for 15 days as they watched their ship leave without them. It would be four years before the brothers saw each other again.

William left his sweetheart, Opal, behind in Kentucky, but their relationship took on a new intensity. Letters flew back and forth across the Atlantic as they professed their affection and attempted to sort out their differences against the backdrop of uncertainty created by world war. Opal began teaching school in Powell County and taking correspondence courses at Kentucky Wesleyan, earning her BA degree in the spring of 1945. After a bout with malaria, William's health began to decline, and eventually he was sent home for stateside duty, which was just fine with Opal. He was able to come home for a short leave during March of 1945, and they were married.

The spring of 1945 was eventful in other ways as well. President Roosevelt died at his home in Warm Springs, Georgia, leaving his successor, Harry Truman, to continue leading the war effort. On April 25, Russian and American troops, who had been making steady progress through German lines from the east and the west, linked up and cut Germany in half. Mussolini was executed and his body hung for display in Milan. Hitler, realizing the war was lost, committed suicide in his underground bunker in Berlin. The war in Europe had come to an end, but the war in the Pacific raged on. Ernie finally graduated from high school and by then, the Army had become much less picky about its new recruits. He was able to join the Army Transportation Corps, stationed aboard the USS Silverado in the Pacific. All of Verlie's boys were at war.

A few long months later, on September 2, 1945, Japan surrendered. The war was over, and the entire world breathed a sigh of relief. The boys who had shipped out four years earlier, full of fire and optimism, were returning as men: tired, victorious and ready to move on with their lives. These soldiers came home, married their sweethearts, had babies, and built their lives around the American Dream. Some of the boys never returned home at all, and many of the ones that did would refuse to discuss their experiences for decades, choosing to honor their fallen comrades with respectful silence.

My grandfather and the millions of men and women like him were heroes, not because of the medals pinned to their uniforms, but because when duty called, they answered. They did what they had to do, and they did it with perseverance, courage and honor. Then they came home, worked hard, raised their families, and lived God-fearing lives of quiet dignity. They represent the best of our national character. They are our veterans.

Ernie, R.B. and James at the WWII Memorial in Washington D.C, Sept 2, 2005. You can read the article here. (Photo by Sgt. Sara Wood)

A Tribute: Part I

Amid the deep gorges and sandstone cliffs of the Cumberland Plateau in Eastern Kentucky lies the town of Booneville, population 159. Named for frontiersman Daniel Boone, it sits along the south fork of the meandering brown waters of the Kentucky River and adjacent to the dense green timberland of the Daniel Boone National Forest. This rugged area was settled by gritty pioneers who had crossed the Cumberland Gap with land grants from Virgina. In Booneville and the other tiny communities that would eventually comprise Owsley County, these determined men and women built their cabins, raised their children, and slowly scraped out a living. This is where my grandfather, William Lee Venable, was born.

William was the eldest son of Matt and Verlie, salt-of-the-earth country folk who raised their six children to love God, Country, Family and Bluegrass music. He was a sickly child, perhaps because of the inexperience of his 17-year-old mother, perhaps because of the difficult conditions of living in Depression-era poverty in a drafty mountain cabin, but he was smart, he was hardworking, and he intended to make something of himself. William's serious nature made him the oddball among his fun-loving brothers, R.B, James and Ernie, but he also had a sharp wit which served him well when dealing with their pranks and good-natured jibes. He spent his time reading every book he could get his hands on and helping his mother manage the boys and his two younger sisters, Mavis and Vivian. In spite of their differences, the brothers were close. Life was hard, and in the backwoods of Kentucky, sometimes family was all you had.

William graduated with honors from his tiny one-room high school and with the encouragement of his teachers, headed off to Berea College and later, Lees College in the nearby city of Jackson. College was an unusual opportunity for a farmer's son with no money and no connections. He had nothing but a nickel in his pocket, faith in God and a desire to succeed. It was at Lees that William met shy, pretty Opal Adams. The valedictorian of her high school senior class, Opal was also the eldest of six siblings and had grown up in the hills of nearby Powell County. The two had a lot in common and eventually, they became sweethearts.

In the spring of 1941, America was just coming out of the Depression. FDR was President, Ginger Rogers and Jimmy Stewart were box office stars, McDonald's began selling its first million burgers, and Germany invaded Russia. With the looming threat of war and few job prospects, William accepted a position as a school teacher back home in Owsley County. Teaching was a common occupation for educated young men and women at that time- all you needed was two years of college- but it was a job which did not particularly suit his temperament or his ambition. It was going to be a very long year. Meanwhile, America watched in fascinated horror as Hitler's troops marched unimpeded across Europe on two fronts. The question on everyone's mind was, "Will America enter the war?" The families of young men like William, R.B., James and Ernest anxiously held their breath.

To be continued...

When Math and Lunch Collide

"Mom, we ate all the Roman Numerals."

Huh?

Yeah, it took me a minute too.

You see, what I really needed to win in the drawing was a new microwave. Our current one bit the dust this past week. For some inexplicable reason, it just quit. Oh microwave, how I feel your pain! But this microwave was just purchased this past March during our Broken Appliance version of "When It Rains, It Pours." That makes it still new in my book, way too young to give up the ghost yet. Fortunately, it is still under warranty, which is a rare bit of good news considering the appliance catastrophes we've endured this year. The bad news is that we are out of a microwave for two weeks while Sears sends it to Memphis or Dayton or Kalamazoo or wherever it has to go.

To help our family deal with a crisis of this magnitude, when I went to the store yesterday, I bought lots of heat n' eat stuff my kids could cook on the stove for lunch: soup, ravioli, ramen noodles. Today, lunch happened to follow math time, but it still didn't quite prepare me for the moment when my 6-year-old reported that all the Roman Numerals had been consumed. After the fall of the Roman Empire, I'm sure it was only a matter of time before the Roman Numerals also met their demise... but who knew it would happen in my kitchen?

You Are SO Not Going to Believe This...

Oh, I won, all right... FIVE TIMES!! Can you believe that? If I didn't know any better, I'd figure someone or someone else was messing around with me. But, it is apparently true. In one weekend, Bloggy Giveaways has made up for 38 years of never winning a single darn thing. Really. I can count on one hand the times I've won drawings or contests. Let's see...

1) I won a Sign Language Dictionary once at a Sign Language class

2)

I can't think of a two. So, apparently I can count on one finger the number of times I've won something in a drawing.

Oh, it's that bad, people. Now, once I won a costume contest, but that was mostly due to my mom's sewing prowess. Once at a baby shower, I won a prize for guessing how big around the mom-to-be's stomach was, but since I've had so much experience with that myself, I figure that had more to do with professional knowledge than with luck. And... that's about it. Whatever blessings I've experienced in life have nothing whatsoever to do with my luck, which apparently stinks. Until this weekend!

This past week, I entered the Bloggy Giveaways sponsored by Rocks in My Dryer and on Friday, as you may have read, I was contacted by Rachel at Belle Texanne because I won a custom-made hat and scarf from her. And I was most excited, not only because it is a lovely gift, but because I never win things and I figured this would be the extent of my good fortune. Not so!

On Saturday, I received an email from Sarah at Short Stop informing me that I had won The Dangerous Book for Boys by Conn Iggulden. Cool!! I have four boys that will LOVE this book! Two things won- imagine that!

Later on Saturday, I received an email from Life in A Shoe informing me that I had won two of Vision Forum's new releases: Passionate Housewives Desperate For God by Jennie Chancey and Stacy McDonald and the new DVD called Return of the Daughters by Anna and Elizabeth Botkin. I've seen reviews for these items on Doug Phillip's blog, and the Vision Forum catalog is a favorite among homeschoolers- I've drooled over their items for years! I began eagerly checking my email every couple of hours. Maybe something good was going on here!

On Sunday afternoon, I received an email from Dawn at Blonde Reviews to let me know that I've won Merry Christmas, America! a newly released autographed book from design guru Bruce Littlefield. How totally cool is that?? This was pretty amazing!

And finally, last night, I received an email from Karen at Mommy of Three letting me know that I won a copy of another newly released book, Canteen Dreams by Cara Putman, who is a Christian lawyer, writer, mom- and was homeschooled herself!

Is all this incredible or what?? It's like Mother's Day and Christmas and my birthday all rolled together in one weekend- the surprise party I've never had. The only discouraging thing about this is the sinking feeling that I may have used up all my luck for the next 38 years or so in one fell swoop. Oh well. I will enjoy the results of my fortunate weekend in some wonderful reading over the holidays. Thanks so much to everyone who offered these generous gifts. You made my day!... and weekend!... and month!...

Oh Dear...

No deer for the Hunter Duo. The agony continues.

Better pray for the Colts, or my guys will have a very bad weekend indeed! John's sister-in-law, a Patriots fan, tried to turn John Mark and Becca into Pats fans by offering to fly them down for a visit at the Navy base in Cuba if the Patriots won against the Colts. Grandma and Grandpa tried to encourage the proper midwestern worldview by mailing each of the kids a Colts shirt to wear during the game, but I believe John's brother Dave is caught in the middle between his own Indianapolis family and his wife's Boston family... sorry, Dave! Fortunately for the kids, either Stacie is fully convinced that the Pats will come through, or she just really wants the kids anyhow, because the passports arrived in the mail this past week and the plane reservations are made. But for John, this is a matter of honor as well as a bet between him and Stacie, so for the sake of peace in our home... please root for the Colts! Dave, you're on your own.

November Again

I cannot believe that it is November again! This year has flown by- the last couple of months especially. There are only two weeks left in co-op, which is amazing. Here I am at a weekend again, the first one in a very long time where I can just... stop. This fall has been so crazy, and last weekend about did me in.

On Friday night, our church had a prayer meeting. I could not believe that someone planned one more thing for my calendar, but... they did. This prayer time was really neat, with a prayer lab with sand, water, candles, and music; a time of group worship, some group prayer times, and some family prayer time. It was really like a mini-retreat... all that was missing were the muffins and mini-quiches! We were really glad we went.

On Saturday, our family hosted Oktoberfest, which began several years back as a way for John to have a valid excuse to stink up our house with sauerkraut and sausages drenched in beer. Over time, he found a partner in crime and now Oktoberfest has slowly expanded to include our CARE group, as well as a few other families who claim some form of German heritage and are also looking for an excuse to eat sauerkraut and sausage drenched in beer... or German potato salad... or German chocolate... or Black Forest Cake... or Riesling... you get the idea. There were a few present with rather questionable German ties as well, but we're an inclusive group and are glad to share our cultural peculiarities with unsuspecting, Wii-carrying friends.

We had enough food left over to invite the group to Oktoberfest Part II at our house after church on Sunday, and that evening, the church held the annual Trunk or Treat and Bonfire. And the weekend was gone- just like that!

But this weekend, I get a break. I have nothing, nothing, nothing on the agenda. Hunter-man and Hunter-boy are gone for the weekend, camping and hunting in the youth deer hunt. (I fervently hope that JM will get his deer quickly so we can be done with all that!) Becca is gone to a weekend youth rally, and the three little boys and I are having a quiet weekend at home. I will get some laundry done (maybe) and I have to complete the Haggadah and play scripts for our co-op Seder in two weeks... but the main order of the weekend is simply to rest. And on that note... I'm going back to bed!

I Won! I Won!

(Jumping up and down, jumping up and down, jumping, jumping... out of breath, out of breath, out of breath...)

I NEVER win things. Ever. But this time I did, I did! Rocks in My Dryer started this crazy idea where bloggers would sign up to give away something. Anything! Really. There were bloggers who gave away gift certificates to Amazon, Starbucks, Target, Walmart, and even CVS. Some gave away jewelry, handmade and otherwise; some gave food such as chocolate, home-roasted coffee and yummy mixes; some gave away handmade cards, soaps, scrapbooking items or bookmarks; some gave away baby gear like slings, diaper bags, and burpies; some gave bath, makeup or hair care items; many gave away favorite books and CDs; some shared their techie know-how with custom blog and photo card design offers; and others shared their talents with items they knitted, crocheted or sewed themselves. All for FREE, shipping included! Yes, for once, there really is such a thing as a free lunch. So, of course I entered. And entered. And entered.

And, most unbelievably, I WON SOMETHING! Wonders will never cease. Rachel at Belle Texanne is going to custom make me a hat and scarf. In red. Isn't that fabulous? Thank you, Rachel!!

Next time around, I will have to give this some thought and have something ready to add to the pot myself. This time, about all I have here are piles of paper, dirty laundry and leftover Halloween candy, and really, who needs any more of any of that? But now I have a pretty red hat and scarf coming. Yippee!

There are still a number of giveaways that don't close until Sunday or even later, so head on over and look around!