Time Slipping Downhill ... And Some Misc.

I'm peeling potatoes for dinner when, out the kitchen-sink window in front of me, I see a small blonde-headed boy run by. It's near dark, and it's been raining all day so the remaining fall yellows and reds of our backyard look watercolored over in gray. It's cold. (And about two minutes after viewing this scene it will have begun hailing.) But Hans is out there. He's got a jacket that he's clearly thrown hastily on (it's falling off his shoulders) and his little feet are completely bare. He's running in circles around our mid-yard landscaping with a small kite in tow. (He's made it himself, and it's tethered to only a foot of yellow yarn [attached to one of his sisters' hair bows], so its potential for flight appears rather limited; but he harbors no doubt about its possibilities. If he just runs fast enough, it will soar.)

I'm watching him. And the leaves that keep falling off of our trees. And I feel it again: this strange, slipping-downhill sense of time that I've run into lately. And I don't mean to sound overly sentimental (as, at times, the days ahead of repeating messes, lack of sleep, and demands from small people seem an eternity through which I will never actually pass); but something has shifted in my view towards, what previously seemed, an endless bounty of mortal life and possibility ahead. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that, for decades, Mike and I have been in the business of adding people to our home and now we seem to be subtracting them; or if it has to do with a spate of recent cancer diagnoses among my siblings (all of them looking to have positive outcomes, but in the space of waiting, we all saw, with some shock, our siblings' mortalness, and, in turn, considered the possible limits of our own earth-side plans); or if it has somewhat to do with Logan and our struggles to arrange a thousand pieces to get up there in time for it to still become home to most of our children.

Never in life before have I felt that I need to get something done ... while there's still time.

And it's a strange, new sensation--this pressing down of time on me. Something I've never really felt until recently. 

But! Whatever side of earth's time I'm on, there's still plenty happening. And here is the tiniest bit of it:

Grinding and pressing apples into cider. It was a simple enough process (cut in fourths, grind, press), and pretty fun, but sticky and time consuming (with so much to wash afterwards), and I think, after all his interest in apple presses, Mike seemed a bit disillusioned in the end--unsure if it was worth all the mess and work for the amount of cider we got. I think you'd have to have your own apples (or a neighbor giving you loads of them) to have it be worth doing regularly as, if we'd purchased apples, this would have turned out to be some very expensive cider! But I can still see us maybe doing it again someday! A fun memory for sure.

This little sprite has taken to doing the dishes on occasion. The cutest.

Speaking of this little dish-washer. I'm not sure when her decided preference for pink emerged; perhaps it was there all along (and us just unaware of it because she simply hadn't yet gained the motor skills necessary to pull out and put on the two or three items of clothing she is willing to wear, or to open the upstairs blanket closet to retrieve the old, pink, sleeping-bag blanket to replace the blue blanket I'd had in her crib with her since she was born). In any case, I've never had a child with such strong feelings about color. She's 65% pink, 30% yellow, 4% purple and 1% orange. Where are my blues and greens I wonder? Nowhere. (I sometimes look at pictures of her from a year or two ago and marvel that I was ever able to just choose darling outfits of any color and then freely put them on her!) And this "blanket" (if indeed it can be termed that with all of its velcro and straps), I fear is in part responsible for why she will only let me do her hair for two hours on Sunday. She wants pink blanket always on her head, and it troubles her somehow to put in on her head with her hair done. 

And ... pink make-up. (Yes I do own pink eye shadow. I like it. I just apply it quite a bit more subtly than she has here. ...)

Abe has used his climbing knowledge quite generously--taking people from his ward etc. who seem to be feeling a little down or needing something to feel excited about. And it makes me happy to see how he uses this little thing of his unselfishly--to bring belonging and enjoyment to others. But of course it is still the most fun for him when he can use his skills as freely as he likes. He and one of his friends have recently been doing some multi-pitch climbs which take a lot more know-how to make sure it is done properly and safely but which also allow you to go ... much higher! (Those dots below the orange shoe laces are people.) These pictures were from a three-pitch climb. But they have their eyes set on a nine-pitch!

(I'm also glad that Abe is incredibly safety conscious. He follows all the proper climbing protocol and researches exactly how to do these things well before attempting them. He and his friends saw a girl fall across the canyon from them a month or two ago. It was a pretty upsetting experience. But it has reinforced in him even more the importance of not being careless.)

Anders recently played "school teacher" for several days for his younger siblings. I liked the school rules (if only they wouldn't "blurt out" so):

And there appears to have been some type of yearbook-cover design contest. (Though I never saw the submissions.)

The other day I told Hans about how much I loved unicorns when I was little--how everything about them seemed magical and good to me, and how I cried and cried when one of my brothers told me they weren't real (and how my dad comforted me by insisting they might be). Hans seemed quite touched by this. And so sweetly went off to draw me a unicorn. And here it is. ...

If I ever get to create worlds of my own, I will most definitely be populating them with herds of these fellas.

We don't have school on Halloween this year, so the kids got to wear their costumes to school today. I honestly don't think anything feels happier to me than dropping them off at school on Halloween morning and seeing all those little kids excitedly running about in costume.

And Daisy texted us this pie that she'd made with some of the apples we'd sent her back with last weekend. She really ought to have made that while she was home I think. ... (Hopefully I can talk her into making apple-cider donuts the next time she's up! After all, as you know, we have the cider!)

The End.

Jackalopes, True Loves, Recognizable Drawings, and ... Half of a Cat's Tail

Mike was telling me, after a recent late-night bishopric meeting, that he wasn't sure he was quite up to the standard when it comes to how things are run these days. He mentioned the I-pads and fancy plans for tracking things electronically etc., that the other bishopric members had. And then he showed me the pen and spiral-bound notebook he'd brought to the meeting. It think it's certainly ... nearly as sophisticated. Classic at least. (Especially considering the large jackalope one of the kids had scribbled in the front of the notebook.)

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Hans recently announced that he has a true love now. (Kindergarten seems as good a place as any to find one I guess.) When I asked for more details, he couldn't be sure about her name, but that's only an insignificant detail compared to the things he has discovered; namely that: she's smart and "reads good" like he does, she doesn't just "draw a circle for a head with legs sticking out like some kids in kindergarten do" (another superior trait they have in common), she has her ears pierced (very mature), and she's one of the taller kids in the class just like he is. Who wouldn't be in love? 

Truly though, outside of family, he hasn't been around a lot of kids his age. His primary class is quite small. And it's kind of dear to me to think of his little blonde-headed, five-year-old self suddenly taking especial note of and being impressed by this other small person. (He might even take enough note to figure out her name one of these days. :))

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Speaking of kids drawing circles for heads with legs poking out. ... Starling's drawings have always just been circles, scribbles and lines. But then, recently, I noticed those circles, scribbles, and lines had begun connecting and curving themselves into more recognizable forms. It's kind of miraculous to see kids shift in understanding of what they can create. (Though heaven knows what Hans will say if her people don't get more sophisticated before she reaches kindergarten!)

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Remember, after we saved Biscuit from the farm (even though we already had Little Gray Cat around to pester Shasta), how Abe dreamt about the bag he opened full of temple name cards ... and four more gray kittens? (Haha.) 

Well, it pretty much has come true. At least the kittens part. (Sigh.) We probably still need to get cracking to get a whole bag of temple names complete, but the kittens: Abe foretold them. (Sigh again.) 

Not long after Biscuit's arrival, some stray cat had a batch of kittens in our neighbor's backyard. (All of them gray.) Our neighbor called animal control, but they had no interest in coming out for stray cats. Unfortunately, before very long, those kittens' mother deemed them old enough to fend for themselves and, before very much longer, those kittens discovered our cats' food bowls. And, with Biscuit too little too care, and Shasta too neutered (haha) to bother with chasing off cats anymore (like he used to faithfully do), (and Little Gray just a stray herself), they just keep sneaking into our yard to eat. They aren't tiny any more, and they are feral as can be. And I feel bad for them, but I'm also not thrilled to be feeding a million wild cats (we go through cat food like crazy now). And I'm not interested in being responsible for catching the wild things and having them all fixed (like we did for Little Gray). But I'm also terrified of the potential for more and more and more kittens being born right in the bushes of our backyard!

We just need to hurry up and move I think. There's no other solution.

But! First, this small story involving the kittens: Since they are all gray (and Little Gray Cat is gray and Biscuit is gray) it can be tricky knowing which cat is actually on our deck at any given time (though opening the door narrows it down somewhat; the strays flee away and Biscuit flees in). Mike pointed out that there are two who come most regularly to sneak food. One of them, he explained, has more white on its feet than the others; and one ... is missing half of its tail! (I don't know how a cat loses half of his tail, but Mike was right, one had.) I told this to the kids so they could keep better track of which cats they saw. And then, a day or so later, Jesse came in from the backyard--carrying something gray and fluffy--and, tossing it on the counter said, "I found the other half of that gray cat's tail". And he had. Right in our backyard. And now there it was: right on my kitchen counter! (Kids! Cats! Sigh to the lot of them!)

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Anyway, that is all for now. (Though perhaps, with such an ending as that, I ought to at least add a few more photos to get that cat tail out of our minds!)

Summer and friend Eden having a little lemonade stand.

Mette dressed in a poodle skirt and some interesting headwear.

The cutest little terrarium Daisy made in her floral design class.

Mike brought home some little wooden pumpkins (or perhaps they were meant to be apples?) the other night for the kids to paint. I need to find where all the other finished ones got off to, but I got a kick out of Penny's "It's a rock fact!" pumpkin ("Over the Garden Wall") and Anders' crpytid (of course) "Mothman" (you know: the giant, winged, humanoid creature that terrorized West Virginia in the 1960s).

And we will end on that high note. :)

Grass in the Freezer--A Weekend at Bear Lake

I just found myself calling (wearily) to Starling, "Starling! No more putting grass in the freezer!"

Although, I suppose, if wet grass in the freezer (and all across the kitchen counter and in piles and clumps on the tile) were the greatest of my worries we'd all have a ... merry Christmas. (???) (I mean ... assuming ifs ands and buts were candy and nuts as well, of course.)

Alas, grass in the freezer is among the very least of my worries. (Though let's not count it as nothing. It was grass scattered all through the freezer after all.)

Still, many of my troubles are simply "grass in the freezer". Exhausting and distracting, but not of any lasting consequence. (And many of those troubles that do seem to be of lasting consequence will likely be proven grass, ere long, as well. Or, at least I hope.)

I know all of that. (And I didn't actually begin this post intending to coin a new term for insignificant troubles. I just mentioned the grass I'd been cleaning and then ... of its own volition ... it became a phrase unto itself. 🤷🏼‍♀️) Still, I present: a little weekend of happiness and also ... "grass in the freezer".

Last Wednesday night I woke to screaming from the boys' room. Hans was sure he'd seen a monster in the night and, barring bright light left on for the remainder (which caused Jesse and Anders, who were already none to happy to have been woken by such hysterics, to protest wildly), he would, he wailed, continue to see the monster. 

So I brought him to our room, and then, when it was clear that Mike wouldn't be sleeping through the whimpers, I carried him out to the loveseat in the living room (then settled myself, as comfortably as one can settle when one has planned on a night's sleep in one's king-sized bed, on the couch nearby). 

For the next hour or two Hans continued, every few minutes, to say, "Mom?" -- just to make sure I hadn't drifted to sleep and forsaken my keep-monsters-at-bay duties. And I'd respond and shush him and tell him he had to stop talking and go to sleep.

And then ... it was morning. (If there was any sleep in between that time ... I'm not aware of it.)

But, there was no time for lazing or recovering from the night. There was a house to clean and seven kids to help get packed for Bear Lake. (Where I'd decided we'd spend Fall Break--even though Mike's work and church duties meant he wouldn't be able to come with us.)

Things went mostly smoothly with all the readying. And Penny got some more driving practice in by taking us past the fruit stands on 89 (where we stopped to buy fresh apples and corn) and up through Sardine Canyon into Logan--where all eight of us tumbled out of the van and into Wal-Mart for groceries--before continuing up through Logan Canyon (this time with me driving since those turns still seem a little sharp and narrow for Penny to be taking in the van). 

But when we arrived at the cabin, things took a bit of a turn. I was doing all my regular cabin-arrival duties for getting us settled--calling for various kids to carry in this or that, assigning someone to put away groceries or help a younger sibling, vacuuming up all the dead boxelder bugs that inevitably collect near the windows in our absence, etc; but I was also doing the duties I usually leave to Mike--getting the pilot light lit and the water on, and checking the mouse traps (which were full this time--blech). 

In the midst of all of this we noticed a smoke detector's low-battery beeps. I'm never good at resetting them to stop their beeping--even when I put a new battery in. And of course this one happened to be in an out-of-reach spot (and us with no ladder). Eventually we were able to get to it by putting Jesse (who I knew could figure out the reset better than I could) on a chair ... on a table. 

While this was going on, another child managed to clog the downstairs toilet. The flapper inside of the toilet tank (that shuts tightly down after each flush so the tank can fill with water) wasn't sealing properly, so the tank wouldn't fill--which meant that the water, that normally would turn off once the tank was back to a high enough level--just kept on running. And running. And running. We would have noticed it right away if it had been in the bathroom right off of the kitchen, but it was the downstairs toilet that had been clogged. By the time Jesse, who'd gone down to help me with the toilet flapper situation, saw the flood, not only was the bathroom floor covered with an inch of water, but it had soaked six inches out into the carpet in the hallway and run under the walls and into the two adjoining rooms. 

There was quite a bit of panic as I rushed to the utility room to turn the water off and yelled for a toilet plunger and for every towel we had (luckily we have lots of beach towels at the cabin). With Penny, Jesse and Anders helping, we soaked about twenty towels getting the water up--and we still weren't sure if we should be pulling up carpet or not.

Luckily Mike, bless him, drove all the way up after work with replacement flappers and the wet-dry vac. (He also picked up Goldie from Utah State along the way and brought her to us since she hadn't been free to come earlier in the day.) He didn't get up to us till about 9:00 and had to leave again by 6:00 the following morning, but it was a comfort to have him there for a minute to make sure we were truly settled after all the trouble.

(For some reason I only got my real camera out one time during the trip. These two pictures of Penny and Starling are the result. Everything else came from cell phone snapshots.)

The rest of the trip went quite well. (Though I don't know why I always bring extra books and things--imagining up all kinds of personal time that has never existed amidst all the adventuring and feeding and cleaning of these vacations.) But other than the typical squabbles and messes (the drive home was soooo squabbly and loud!), we had a very good time.

It was perfect fall weather. Not only ideal for hikes (which we did Friday and Saturday), but also warm enough for the beach! (Well, "warm enough". It was probably in the low 60s. So not a lot of actual swimming, and I brought everyone's sweatshirts just in case, but we still all wore our swimsuits and had a lovely time on the mostly-empty beach.

(We loved how Mette would hold that throwing pose each time she threw the frisbee until it landed or was caught.)

A lot of the leaves had already fallen off the trees, but Anders was the first to point out how the aspen leaves had decorated all the evergreens like for Christmas. These shots don't show them off well enough. They looked really pretty all covered in yellow leaves. 

(There is not a single rock, stump, or fallen tree that the kids don't have to stop to climb on. We make very slow progress.)

Anders was very pleased with this hat he found (and spent some of his birthday money on) in the local grocery store. We were all pleased with it.

Every time we are at the cabin the kids plaster it with a million, mostly-ridiculous, pictures. These from Anders and Jesse are lovely:

We also went to a couple of parks. These swinging pictures were taken one of the evenings at the park by the Pickleball Courts. (Goldie, Pen, Jesse and Anders played pickleball while Summer, Mette, Hans and Starling insisted I push them over and over on these swings.) (We went to another park on Sunday when we got the start time for church wrong and had a half-hour to kill. [A half hour to get everyone's church clothes untucked and dirty.])

(Starling packed her own outfits for the trip. The broad array of colors she selected should not surprise anyone.)

(Everyone scrambling to get enough chip dip before their siblings have eaten it up.)

(Swinging into the setting sun.)

(Little angel Star. Right after all the packing and cleaning up at the cabin, and loud driving back home, and carting everything back into the house and putting it away, Starling looked at me and said, "How about we go back to the cabin?")

Truly, despite the hiccups, the figurative grass in the freezer 😄, and despite all the work, and despite no Mike, it was a happy time.

(The one small "tree" with fall leaves by our cabin driveway.)

And when we came home, we came home to these! Roughly one billion apples our neighbor had asked Mike to come pick! They are so good! I wish wish they didn't have to be changed into some other apple form for them to last. They just make grocery-store apples seem bland and waxy in comparison, and I wish we could keep them fresh all through the winter! But we will probably make some cider. (You'll recall Mike's cider press desires. Well he got one. How could he not once he had all of these?)

The end.