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Thursday, September 30, 2010

The Poopy-Rocky Song

video
Haven started singing the Rocky-Poopy song when we were outside a few days ago. I was picking up dog poop and she was watching me. She loves rocks (or rockies as she calls them)--they figure largely in her life as a source of entertainment. Possibly watching me pick up poop is also a source of amusement for her. Anyway, I was driving to the mailbox and I asked her to sing the song for me.
She improvised. Some of it I can't understand but I did hear a "Poopy...Sophie...[out]side" in there.

Guarantee this song is going to hit the top 40 soon. It's catchy.

Bossy Pants

Wearing all of Mommy's bras

Haven is only 18 months old but she has an ability to get what she wants across. For example, this morning I asked her if she wanted some chocolate milk after breakfast (she never says "no" to that question, by the way, but she has to say "please" either by signing it or saying it). After she performed the requisite requirements for chocolate milk I took her to the fridge. Apparently I was not moving fast enough because she said, "hurry!" She's never said that word before. At least she knows how to use it in a proper situation--even if it is bossy.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Faith Healers


If you're looking for a controversial exchange on Faith Healing you haven't come to the right place....This is about Two Girls and a Squirrel.
This weekend my friend Faerl and I went on a bike ride. We both love animals--Faerl especially loves woodland creatures (bunnies, skunks, squirrels, gnomes). Well, we were cruising along at a very fast clip when a small squirrel ran out in front of us. I managed to swerve and avoid him, but he was in between our bikes and there was no way for Fae to avoid hitting him. She felt awful. I wasn't sure what to do. There was blood on the pavement and his little tail started to collapse and his eyes to close.

I kept encouraging Little Squirrel to die because the only thing worse than something dying is watching it suffer. It looked like he was on his way out; he even had a sound like a death rattle going on. It was pitiful. Eventually it became apparent that he was going to linger. We didn't know what to do. I considered picking him up and throwing him in the river so he'd drown quickly. I looked around for a man walking or riding who could send Little Squirrel to Happy Squirrel Land quickly. There was nothing to finish him off and I really, really, really didn't want to be the one who killed him. I decided to pick up Little Squirrel. Expecting to see guts and more blood underneath him, I was surprised that he looked rather well for something that had just got run over. And, his little mouth was so cute with the two long front teeth. I will admit to glancing around wondering if there was anyway to carry him back home. But, the pack on my bike isn't big enough.

So, I laid him down on the side of the road. The rattling became more obvious. I told Faerl we should pray for him. We did. His little eyes kept closing and he kept looking like he was on his way out. We spent a couple minutes asking (read: begging) God to touch our little squirrel. I noticed my bike was still in the middle of the bike path and I needed to move it. As I did, Little Squirrel lifted his head up to watch me. I think all three of us were incredibly excited. We kept stroking his little body and praying. And then, all of a sudden....he jumped up and took off like nothing had ever happened to him. Do I think we are Faith Healers? Umm, probably not. But, I do think that God touched him. Because it really mattered to us. Believe what you will...however, I'm believing that Little Squirrel should be named Lazarus.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Like A Rat

I went over to my parent's house for the first time in about 3 weeks. Lugging baby and two dogs because my mom hadn't seen any of us for a long time in between their summer trips and ours.

During the summer the wind had blown over their backyard fence. Insurance adjusters have never been accused of acting speedily and so in between them and finding a contractor to put up a new fence it still hasn't been completely finished. However, since I hadn't been over in awhile I assumed that by now (months and months later) it would be OK to bring the dogs.

The neighbor that they usually share a fence with (when it is intact) is really strange. He hides behind shrubbery and trees that are about an 1/8 of an inch wide (and he's not that small) in order to avoid talking to people. My parent's share a pine tree with a few guinea fowl and every year their babies get eaten by skunks, raccoons, you name it--they aren't the best at defending themselves or their young. Stuart (the neighbor) shot a skunk last time we spent the night at my parents. I'm going somewhere with this--just keep reading.

So, here we are. Me and my 3 girls. Two of which I can find. The third--that would be Sophie--is nowhere to be seen. My mom and I call and call for her and she won't come. About 15 minutes later, my mom is getting pretty worked up and worried that we can't find her. And, I was trying to work up something that would resemble sadness at the loss of Sophie; but well, my lunch was on the table and I was hungry. My mom jumped in her car to go looking for her. I ate my lunch convinced she'd come back and if she didn't I hoped a nice person got her. I did have the heart to hope she didn't get hit by a car. And, if she did, that she'd die quickly (the thought of extensive vet bills never, ever entered my head. Never).

Mom came back without Sophie so we decided to investigate Stuart's back yard further since it was the only logical place she could be. Fortunately, he didn't appear to be home. We walked all around his yard, calling, peering into bushes. Then we heard Soph's unmistakable bay. Like she's howling at the moon. Except that we'd been talking so we couldn't quite tell where it came from except that she was close. I kept calling for her hoping she'd re-bay but she didn't until we were about to go explore somewhere else and I heard her whine. From Stuart's back porch. We hadn't looked there. We'd glanced in, but it seemed like an invasion of privacy to actually step foot in there.

We looked all around his back porch. Obviously she was stuck somewhere or she'd have come. I had a fleeting thought that Stu may be holding her hostage just to be mean (I mean, if you're that strange then people are going to assume that you hold beloved pets that people have been looking for for ransom--boy, would he have been disappointed--he may have made enough off of Sophie to get a cup of coffee).

Then I saw an animal trap. It was a catch and release kind and there were empty cans of cat food in it. Soph LOVES cat food. She was shivering like a leaf and barely fit in there, but somehow she'd managed. I was laughing so hard I couldn't figure out how to spring her from the slammer. My mom was upset and kept saying, "Poor Sophie." Poor Sophie indeed. It was her stupid stomach that got her caged like a wild, dumb animal. Trapped like a rat. We set her free but didn't reset the trap. Which would be very confusing, I imagine considering Soph ate all his bait.

Finally...

completed 100 miles in a Century. It only took 4 times. And, nine hours. Kind of embarrassing when Chris does it in half the time I do. Here's a pic of Maren, Fae, and myself at mile 67. Heidi took the picture so she's missing, but she "won" the 25 mile ride--she's preggo so that's pretty impressive. You can't really win on these rides because they aren't races, but if you could, then she would have. And, here I am at the finish. Check out my hair. I was so exhausted from climbing Bobcat pass that when I got to go downhill towards the finish line I don't think I put the brakes on once. Thus the hair.
It was such a great weekend. I finished my summer goal of riding 100 miles in a day. And, of getting one girl's weekend before the year ends.

Monday, September 6, 2010

How We Labored This Weekend

in Kingston, NM. Who knew Southern New Mexico was green! And beautiful. It reminded me of a SouthWest version of the Texas Hill Country. Here's Haven the Hiker who insisted on trekking with a big stick (I didn't teach her that).

Chillin' with Dad on the swing. I think a motorcycle drove up. She's fascinated with motorcycles but scared to death of how they sound.
We stayed at the Black Range Lodge in the ghost town of Kingston. It was lush. With fruit trees and raspberry bushes and friendly people. I actually had to utilize the friendly people...I went on a bike ride our first evening there and on my way back noticed my back tire was flat. To make a long story short, my tire ended up unrideable. I ditched my bike in the weeds and started the 4 mile walk (uphill) back to the Lodge. Fortunately a man and woman stopped and they offered to give me a ride back. Yay! for friendly people.

Yesterday we went to the Hillsboro music festival and heard some great, great bluegrass. There was some awfully good pickin' going on. I'm not very country, even if I grew up in the sticks, but when I'm in the country I love that kind of music. It's difficult to sit still while listening to it.

The music was a fitting end to a restful weekend. Haven had a blast feeding the chickens at the lodge and eating fruit off the trees. And, being spoiled by all the other lodgers because she was the only baby there.