Because Two People Fell in Love...

My oldest sister, Tori, loves the saying - "Because Two People Fell in Love" - so I thought I'd post these pictures just for her and her 40something birthday today.

All because Mom and Dad fell in love we have:
Tori, Roxy, Marci and RJ

And because Tori and Glenn fell in love:
Ashleigh, Griffin, Brooklyn, Ben
And because Roxy and Don fell in love:
Katie, Kyle, Kylie, Charlie, Evie, Jesse, Betsy, Nate
And because Marci and Dave fell in love:
Sophie, Lucy, John
And because RJ and Katie fell in love:
Gabbie, Gavin, Gracie

What a wonderful family - thanks Mom and Dad!

Happy October - Photo of the Month

One finished project, one unfinished...

I managed to complete the Halloween quilt (begun in September 2007) in August - and it now has a place of its own on the living room wall. I'm rather pleased with it - but at the same time happy that it purposefully has a "thrown-together" look so my haphazard quilting style almost looks as though it was meant to be.

The following quilt, a baby gift for Abby Fay, was begun this summer - long before we knew if Abby was a boy or a girl. It was meant to be a "Take to the Hospital" present for Bridget and J.R.'s baby but instead I have a feeling it'll be a "Happy 1st Birthday" present for sweet Abby.

The part on the left has been somewhat stitched together but I've gotten hung up on the corner piecing and am already worrying about quilting in the ditch and Dakota seems to think the pieces on the bottom are for her to take off the design board and chew on. But really - all that's just plain silly - I just need to sit down and get the darn thing done. After all, winter's coming!

Dakota's Secret Garden

When we got Dakota I promised Dave we'd train her to go "potty" in one certain spot - and I have - even though two weeks into the process Dave switched her potty spot on us. He originally wanted her to go at the far corner of 817's lot but when we realized we'd be tilling up the yard and planting grass and making a big old muddy mess, we thought it best to find a new spot for her.

That's how she got her own secret garden. It's a wonderful space between our old yellow garage and the neighbor's old green garage. Technically it's their space but it was generally unused and upon our asking and promising we'd keep it clean they were gracious and let us (I mean Dakota) use it. It's been a hit ever since.

I only wish we'd discovered it before we got Dakota - it would have made a great Secret Garden getaway for our kids... but now I guess it'll have to wait for grandkids... and that's yeeeeaaaaarrrrrsssss down the road.

Goofy Glasses, Goofy Kids

First Day of School

"All was fine on Belmont Road until the kids went back to school..."

This reflects a semi-calm moment following our whirlwind summer.

We saw the tagging of a Cooper's hawk in the alley behind our house. The kids, and sometimes the adults, bounced on the new trampoline. John and I built a cardboard pirate ship while the girls went north to the cabin with their dad and Papa. Sophie accomplished a back walkover. Dave and our trusty handyman, Mike, completed a paving stone patio at 817. I co-facilitated a four day RRVWP workshop in July. Sophie and Lucy performed in The Velveteen Rabbit in Cando. The kids can swim. For part of the summer I had budding playwrights on my hands, as Sophie and her pal, Juliet, led the charge to write a play based on a Magic Tree House book. Dave grew grass next door! Lucy taught all her stuffed animals how to read. John attended hockey camp--a true North Dakotan--he is on the ice, even in July. The kids had a picnic lunch under the largest tree in North Dakota and they helped their cousins build a treehouse all in the same day. Dave was home most of the summer for the first time in seven years. I walked the dog and picked up poop by the bagful. Dave and I had front row seats at a Twins game as part of our bi-annual Suite Night Event. (Thanks St. Peter!) And for the first time in years, I was up at 6 am most days reading the newspaper and drinking my coffee on the back patio, enjoying that quiet time of the day.

Dog Days of July

Dakota has been such a treat for us. She keeps me laughing and has really found a friend in Lucy. Lucy loves to hold her and cuddle and in such a sweet eight-year-old voice say, "How ya doing baby?" She (as in Lucy) has been the surprise here - we just assumed Sophie would be the main caretaker since she's the one that led the drive to get a dog. But instead, we've seen Lucy shine with taking out Dakota, playing with her, and even picking up the poop without being asked. By the way - we can thank our friend Carmyn for all the pics.

We're now a family of six...

Meet Dakota - a lovable and smart six-week old goldendoodle. Yes - in spite of everything I've ever written about not getting a dog we changed our minds and so far so good. She's getting plenty of loving, she's learning where to go to the bathroom, John hasn't broken out and I'm feeling like a mother of a newborn all over again. Except our newborns slept for more than two hours at a time.

We got the call on Friday night that it was our turn to pick a pup from the litter. By Saturday afternoon the kids and I were off to Bismarck (four hours away). But first we needed to stop at Petco and buy everything we needed for the return trip. It was pretty exciting - the kids had already made a list of everything we needed and we divided up the duties. Each child got to pick out one toy, John got to pick out the collar and Lucy the leash while Sophie looked for Puppies for Dummies. The only snafu was that in the rush I didn't check prices and ended up paying $12 for a kong toy that Dakota is much too little for. But she'll grow into it.

Three Cups of Tea - or One Big Foot in My Mouth

I usually overeat at book club meetings – things like Kristen’s baklava are just too irresistible. For our next meeting, however, I won’t be eating any food because my foot has been firmly placed in my mouth. Why, you wonder? Because having only read (and then reread) the first 70 pages of Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin I made a total judgment of the entire book - I pretty much trashed it. But I couched my trashing with, “I love the message, I agree with what Mortenson was trying to do but I can’t stand the hero worship on the part of the author and the lack of responsibility Mortenson shows in the beginning.”

Well, I should have kept reading… and I’m so glad I did. I’m not sure if the writing style suddenly changed after the first 70 pages or if the enthusiasm and passion of my fellow book club members spurred me on… but when I got home from book club I picked up the book and started reading it again. Sure there are things that I, as an editor, would have taken out or done differently with the book, but overall I am heartened by this book in a way I haven’t been since March, 2003 when the US began Operation Iraqi Freedom. Maybe there is a way to make a difference in the lives of people – and it isn’t by forcing our values and way of life onto others – but to provide them with access to education that will help them see the good in others.

At the same time, we in America need to continue building understanding toward others. After watching a CNN feed of the bombing in Baghdad, Brigadier General Bashir Bas of Pakistan tells Mortenson, “You have to attack the source of your enemy’s strength. In America’s case, that’s not Osama or Saddam or anyone else. The enemy is ignorance. The only way to defeat it is to build relationships with these people, to draw them into the modern world with education and business. Otherwise the fight will go on forever” (p. 310). Could we just try working on things that way for once? Please?!

So, if you promise to try to wade through the first 70 pages of Three Cups of Tea and then take the message to heart, I’ll try and swallow the foot I earlier placed in my mouth.

Mocha and Scrabble

Usually I'm not a big board game player - it might have something to do with the fact that I'm married to Mr. Competitive and for him the word game is synonomous with "it's all about winning." He's the guy that when I could talk him into running three miles with me he'd take off sprinting while I settled in for the long jog. A block later he'd be walking and I'd still be jogging my usual pace (and no, it wasn't a snail's pace!) but as soon as I caught up with him off he'd go - beating me yet again. It was very frustrating for all five times we ran together.

The same was true with board games - even before we were married. In fact we got into a such a big fight over Scattergories on the very same day he proposed that I'm surprised the proposal actually even happened. So - Dave and I don't play games together very often... and I've turned into a whinerbutt whenever anyone wants to play because I just assume everyone is as competitive as my husband.

But thanks to this morning, my tune has changed. This morning Theresa called me and said, "I'm making mochas, come over." I said, "I don't think I should - I still had a fever last night at 5..." She said, "Get your butt over here..." So I showered and walked on over... promising myself I wouldn't breathe on her. As she, Jane (her awesome mother-in-law who has been here for almost three weeks) and I sat around the fire Theresa suggested we play scrabble. I, of course, groaned. But you don't argue with Theresa.

So we played... and it was so relaxing and so non-competitive that I actually have the hankering to play again. There was some competition - but it was friendly and for the learning. For example, when Theresa put down "dap" I asked her about it - not because I didn't think it was a word (she is, after all a Scrabble guru) but because I wanted to know for future reference. At another point I thought I only had a five point play but once I put out my tiles, the two of them made it into a 24 point word. In between plays we chatted, laughed and drank our mochas... what a wonderful morning.

As for Dave, when he got home this afternoon I told him about the Scrabble game and guess what his first words were? Yep, you guessed it - his first words were, "Who won?" Some things never change.

Fire in the Kitchen

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen today. Dave's out-of-town so I made the usual breakfast followed by parmesan noodles for lunch. Then I made brownies for a playdate and went to town with chicken pot pie and a special dessert made from the leftover pie dough smothered in butter and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Everything was perfect - until I called the kids to supper and was dishing up the pot pie and suddenly realized I left the piedough in the oven too long and it was burned - as in smokin' black.

Sophie was in the kitchen with me and I grabbed the pot holders to get the pan out but when I opened the oven door flames started shooting out. I quickly shut it and tried to think, "Baking soda or not. What am I not supposed to do? I know there's something that seems logical to use that you're not supposed to...was that water or baking soda? Should I use the fire extinguisher?" I went to the cupboard and grabbed the soda - almost empty. I told Sophie to get the other kids and go to the front porch and then grabbed the phone, dialed Mom in Arizona, and got the extra baking soda from the fridge. Got the answering machine at Mom's. I hung up and dialed Anna's number and Matt answered. I yelled, "There's a fire in the kitchen - what do I do?" Matt: "What?" Then Anna got on with him, my panic rose as I opened the oven door again and flames shot out, higher than before, so I yelled again -"There's a fire in the kitchen , what do I do?"

Anna, calm Anna, said, "Leave it alone, I'll be right there" and Matt advised, "Put a cover on it." I hung up, got a cover, opened the door to more flames but got the cover on to get enough flames out so I could get out the cookie sheet. Then I grabbed another cover and smothered it some more and looked up from the stove to see Anna running to the back door, baking soda in hand. Matt was 15 seconds behind her. She grabbed the potholders from me and took immediate charge of the baking sheet while Matt started opening doors to get the smoke out of the house.

They're my heroes - my real-life heroes. And now my plan is to print out this link and post it in the kitchen cupboard. Feel free to do the same.

Spring School Pictures

When did we become a society that is so egocentric? I know it’s been coming for a long time but it just seems like we keep finding new ways to go over the top. The latest for me is spring school portraits. Last year was the first time our school offered them – and my kids were crushed that I didn’t order any pictures. Well guess what – it’s that time of year again. Yesterday Lucy came home with a sheet of paper announcing that Spring Portraits were coming – it was time for parents to schedule haircuts for their kids and pick out outfits. When I told the kids we wouldn’t order any, one of them got very upset and said, “These are the best pictures ever – you get to sit on rocks and pose.” Another went on to say that all the other kids would get them. Well, I know for a fact that a lot of kids at their school won't get them - because they're too busy worrying about putting food on the table to buy pictures. I didn't say that, but I did lecture them. I said that their dad and I choose to spend our money on other things that we feel are more important - like spending time in Arizona with grandparents or going hiking in Colorado. Or on books. Then I added, "We buy the pictures in the fall but we don't need to be so frivolous and buy the pictures again in the spring."

Then I really went off on the whole, "When we were young..." and told them about the one time I got to have a real portrait taken - when I was a senior in high school and I got to pick out two outfits - one for the formal pose and one for the informal pose - and went with a photographer into real-live woods and had my picture taken. I pointed out that happened once and it was a huge deal and that I really don't think we need to have our pictures posing in front of rocks - real or fake - any more than that.

But now I'm thinking - even though I argue for the craziness of spring portraits - don't I still value pictures of the kids? Each year between October and December aren't you likely to find me shopping for matching outfits for the kids and making arrangements for our Christmas card photos? Don't we, each year on the first Sedona hike, stop at the "picture rock" (as John named it) and take a picture of the kids? Finally, just look at this blog - it's all about the kids and their activities and the way they make me laugh... or scream. So, really, how egocentric am I?

Maybe the difference is I value the pictures of them engaged in activity - like cooking or drawing or hiking or reading. But then again, maybe I'm just justifying my own actions.

The other possibility of why I'm so irked is that this is a school-sanctioned event. It may even be a fundraiser for PTO - I can't say for sure because I've been an on again/off again PTO parent this year. But really, there are far more exciting things for Lucy to be sharing with me than the announcement of Spring Portraits. In her backpack, along with the portrait flyer, was a telescope she made out of a cardboard tube that showed various constellations. We oohed and aahed over that. Also in her backpack was her newest library book - a new Magic TreeHouse book she was anxious to read aloud to John. (The day before she and John snuggled on the couch and she read to him for a whole hour.) So, my point is: shouldn't we, as parents, be spending our time with our kids reading or talking or doing homework vs. prepping them for their portrait session? I certainly think so.

Thanks for listening.

Relay for Life

I don't normally do any solicitation on my blog - but here's one I feel is so very important.

On April 18th and 19th a group of us will meet at the Memorial Stadiuim at UND and walk/run for breast cancer. The money we raise will go to toward research and care for breast cancer patients. If you'd like to donate, follow this link and you can make an online donation. Thanks so much.

Belly Dancing and Breast Cancer

Each year UND sponsors a Belly Dance Expo. During the event the belly dancing group demonstrates the beauty of the dance - and fundraises for a cause. This year the fundraising efforts went to fight breast cancer. Theresa was asked to talk about breast cancer awareness, but as she's still in the throes of treatment, she declined and asked me to talk for her. We came up with the following and this evening I stood in front of about 75 men and women and spoke. The information, I believe, is important for all of us to hear so I pasted the speech here. Feel free to share the information with any other women friends.

Four months ago a close friend was diagnosed with Stage 2B breast cancer. We were all in shock because we thought surely there should have been signs – like a lump or just a general “not feeling well” vibe. But there were no signs – none at all – as is often the case with breast cancer.

Here are some facts about breast cancer: 1 in 8 American women will develop breast cancer within their lifetime. That’s lifetime – so all the way up to ninety-year-olds. Of the 240,000 women diagnosed each year, close to 40,000 of those women will die.

Thinking about breast care now and what you can do to ensure your health will make a difference. Upon her diagnosis, the first words I said to my friend were, “I can’t believe it – you’re the healthiest person I know.” She’s an adventure racer, a belly dancer, a yoga teacher, and cared about the trans fat in foods long before anyone else. But all that proves is that we can’t take our health for granted and that there are some things we, as women, can do to further ensure our health.

For example,
For all women, but starting with young women, perform a monthly physical exam. If you’re unsure about how to do it there are cards available at your doctor’s office. It’s not enough to rely on your annual doctor’s visit and his/her examination.

Get regular exercise – at least 3 times a week for 30 minutes. Brisk walking is a good example and is enough to lower your chances of getting breast cancer by 18-20 percent.

If you smoke, quit. There are all kinds of reasons to stop, but the possibility of breast cancer just adds one more.

If you drink alcoholic beverages, do it in moderation. Two alcoholic drinks/day greatly increases your chance of breast cancer.

Get a baseline mammogram by the age of 35 unless you’re nursing or pregnant.
Then, at forty, get annual mammograms. Without a mammogram, because my friend had no lump, there wouldn’t have been any detection of her cancer until it had spread much further.

Reduce the stress in your life – activities like yoga and meditation go a long way toward stress reduction.

Finally, maintain a healthy weight. You can do this by eating well with a plant-based diet rich in fruits and whole grains. 10 foods that are known to help with breast health are: almonds, beans, broccoli, soy beans, spinach, salmon, flax seed, garlic, green tea and olive oil. Incorporate these into your diet.

For my friend, she’s got an 82% chance of surviving. But the amount of money and research and support for breast cancer is one of the highest funded areas of research and for that, we’re fortunate. But it’s still up to each of us to maintain our health.

Chalking Up Some Easter Eggs...

Check out these beautiful Easter Eggs handmade by the kids - with the help of Grandma Kathy. In the spirit of Pioneer Woman Cooks, I'll lay out all the steps for you so you can try it for yourself next year.

Here are the ingredients - a dozen eggs, hardboiled of course. Chalkboard paint, a small paintbrush, and regular old sidewalk chalk.






First, take one egg and apply a coat of black chalkboard paint over its entire surface. This gets a little tricky, especially for those small hands, so we did use some plastic measuring cups (like you get from TANG) and placed the egg on it once one half of it was painted.




When each egg is painted, place it back into the egg carton to dry. Wait an hour or two before putting on the second coat of chalkboard paint. During this time you may need to turn the eggs a bit as we found they did stick to the styrofoam carton. This may not be a problem if you use a paper carton.

After the second coat, let the eggs rest overnight and then get out the sidewalk chalk and get creating. Once this step is done, take the eggs outside and holding the egg an arm's length away, spray it with hairspray to let the chalk set. If the chalk disappears, don't get scared. As the hairspray dries, the color will come back. Finally, arrange the eggs in a basket with colored grass and enjoy them. BUT - I wouldn't recommend eating them.

February Events

Weekend Getaway with Mitch, Jackie, Zach and Maggie There was a whole lot of outside time, inside time and watching hockey time. Oh, and there was the "skinning the squirrel time" where Sophie held the book, Dangerous Book for Boys open to page 239 and read the directions for skinning a squirrel to Zach as he gave it a go. Meanwhile I was inside the house trying to keep my breakfast down.

Fat Tuesday Party
Our friends Michelle and Paul lived in New Orleans for quite a few years and fell in love with the city - so much so the walls of their house are painted in Mardi Gras colors... in a very rich and tasteful way. They hosted a party where the kids decorated masks, made floats and had a parade for all the adults. Our "prizes" from the party decorated the dining room table for the next few weeks.

Valentine's Day Fondue
After months of searching for a vintage fondue pot I gave up and bought a new one from Target. I would much prefer the orange or yellow or brown kind to the polished line of the stainless steel one but Valentine's Day was approaching and I wanted to start a new tradition here on Belmont Road. So I splurged and we had a wonderful fondue on Valentine's Day - complete with homemade angel food cake, big marshmallows, and bananas and strawberries. Yummy!


BRRRRRR! February here was unseasonably cold - even for us North Dakotans - and we spent A LOT of time hanging out by the fire. One night Dave called me into the family room so I could see that the girls had found the perfect mix - reading by a warm fire. After that there were often four of us reclining on the floor with books in hand - Dave still preferred the chair over the floor.

As of Sunday I think we're done with indoor fires until fall - during one of Dave's roaring fires the glass of one of the doors blew out. Luckily nobody was in front of the fire at the time and the glass blew into the fire. Then yesterday morning, while everybody was in the kitchen having breakfast, there was again the sound of shattering glass and Dave found a mess of glass all over the front of the fireplace. I called a local business, they sent a repairman over and the glass is getting fixed. But he told us one very important piece of advice I'll pass on - do not use the fire starter bricks in indoor fireplaces. Apparently they're made of wood shavings that are glued together - but the glue, when it melts, sticks all over the place and causes uneven heating that is dangerous. He suggested buying a packet of shims and using those for firestarters instead.

817 Here they are - the two guys that made it all happen. I tried to help as much as I could but I'm no match for these two. The house looks fabulous and Charlie and John deserve oh so very much of the credit. As for Charlie calling me an "old shoe" I'm still not sure how I feel about that - but he insists it was meant as a compliment. :)

Two Months of Tuesdays
Caprice, Anna and I finally finished Theresa's quilt yesterday and got it delivered. The ironic part is we delivered it to her on a day where it hit 40 degrees above zero and we were walking around without coats on. But I'm sure she'll still cuddle up in it and know how much she's loved and cared for.

Updated Pics from 817 (The BIG Project)

As requested by Lori, Jeff and others, here are some pics of 817. (Just for you Jeff - our house is the brick one on the left, while 817 is the white house on the right.) Compare these photos of the dining room, living room, and kitchen to the ones here and I'm thinking you'll notice a change. I still have a second coat of paint to do on the entire upstairs, then sand that floor and paint it. I should probably also do a third coat in the main floor hallway because it turns out my color-blind husband is correct when he emphatically states, "I'm not a painter!". Then, I should paint the pantry, the cupboard under the stairs, the basement stairwell and the entryway. I guess I should also paint the patching that was done after the switchplates were put up. But all in due time, all in due time.

This week's "Guess What Was Cooking" game...

Remember the last contest? The one where you had to guess the shape of the pie dough? This game is a little different - but still has to do with cooking and odd shapes. So, what's your vote on this lovely number that came out of the oven - is it turkey or homemade bread?

If you guessed homemade bread, you're a winner...but then again you were probably in the kitchen and could smell the aroma of fresh bread. I think I did a few things wrong in my baking - I used whole wheat flour without changing any of the ingredients, I let it rise too long, and I didn't form it into a loaf shape very well... or very tight. But, it gave the kids and me a big laugh when I took it out of the oven. And, it still tasted mighty nice.

One Week in February - the To Do/To Done List

No quiet lunch date...

An hour and twenty minutes into our lunch date (yes, how we do enjoy our long lunches) Margaret, Michelle and I were startled by a loud crack followed by shattering glass of the bakery window. We looked to our side and the window to the bakery was shattered, there was a man on the ground on the sidewalk and two cars were parked side-by-side on the street. From the next few minutes I remember some of what happened, while other events I can't. I remember being at the front door of the bakery, seeing the bicyclist, with a "What the h---" look on his face, starting to get up. I thought, "He'll be OK," and then kept looking around. Then I remember the sound of the car engine still revving, and saw the driver with his head back - passed out. I clearly remember thinking, "I can't go in front of the car because it's still going." So I ran behind it and opened his door - surprised it was unlocked. Yet his car was parallel to a small SUV parked in the street and I couldn't open the door all the way, let alone squeeze in to turn off the car. By this time there were others on the passenger side of the car. With my right hand I tried to feel a pulse on the driver's neck and with my left I pushed every button I could trying to get the other door unlocked so the others could get in to help the man. I remember being surprised at how smooth and nice and warm the man's neck felt. By this time, an older man was behind me and yelled for people to call 911. It felt like ten minutes had already gone by and I couldn't feel the man's pulse and all I was doing with my left hand was moving the car windows up and down. It was so quiet. The man behind me said, "Let me try," so I moved out of the way and let him in. I went to the passenger side and tried to break the window open. A man jumped on the hood of the car and tried to kick in that window and I remember thinking, "The driver's mouth is open, you don't want glass to get in his mouth." Another man used some kind of tool on the passenger window and said, "Watch out." I turned around so I wouldn't get hit by glass but nothing happened. I heard someone say, "Two pushes, one breath... two pushes one breath," under his breath and then yell, "I know CPR; I can do CPR." When I turned back around I went to the second car, the one that was parked in the street parallel to the incapacitated one and got in. The older man was still trying to help the driver and was right in between the two cars and I thought, "I should tell him so he isn't surprised when the car moves, but is it worth the time it'll take? Yes, I don't want to run him over," so I got back out and told him I was going to move the car. He said, "Good idea." I got back in. It was a stick shift. Crap. "I can do this, it should be old hat," I thought. But then I saw there weren't any keys in the car. I got back out and the owner of the car was right there and said, "Should I move it?" I replied, "Yeah, that'd be great." Then a woman driving by yelled, "My husband is a cardiologist - he's having lunch in there." So I headed to the bakery to get him, wondering why he wasn't already out there. Then I heard her say, "Oh, he's in the car already." So I went back into the bakery - to Michelle and Margaret and got wrapped up in a hug. The bicyclist was sitting at a table and was worried about his bike - it was indeed pretty mangled - but he looked OK. We went back to our table and stood there. All I could think was that I couldn't find a pulse on the man's neck and that in this whole time (which Michelle said was probably only two minutes) the man hadn't moved at all. The ambulance got there, the police were there and firemen were there. The bakery staff was cleaning up the glass that had fallen all over the two-top right below the window. We watched the ambulance crew undo the man's shirt and do something - he sort of jerked. Then they carried him off to the ambulance, one person had his legs and another his armpits. I started crying again, assuming he was dead. But nobody really seemed to know. We bussed our table, put our coats on and walked the block to the car - our voices shaking talking about what just happened.

There - that's my perspective on the events. You can read about the incident here (look for Pole Crashes Through Bakery)and get a better picture of the whole scene.

I can't stop thinking about it - about how everything I tried to do failed and how that short time seemed like ten, even twenty minutes. Did I make things worse by trying to help? Yet it wasn't a conscious decision to go out there. Why couldn't I find the damn door lock? Throughout the whole thing, I think the only words I spoke were, "I'll move the car," and "That'd be great." My mind was totally clear - almost white - yet my thoughts were racing. Instinct certainly took over - yet I had moments of clear thoughts. I noticed the handicapped sticker tucked to the driver's right side, the cane that sat on the passenger floor at a diagonal so the driver could easily grab it. The radio wasn't on, the car was warm and the driver was warm. But no pulse - at least not that I could feel. When Margaret dropped me off at home I went to Dave and made him sit while I tried to find his pulse - and was somewhat reassured when I couldn't find his pulse either. Then, I watched the 5:00 news, then the 6:00 news and finally the 10:00 news - the 81-year-old driver was in critical condition, but he was alive. And I felt helpless - no thanks to me was he alive. I tried to help - oh how I tried - but nothing I did seemed to work. People have said, "Maybe you spurred others to action." or "You tried..." but I still get shaky when I think about it and my heart starts pounding. If something like this happens again and instinct takes over I hope I remember something else - take a deep breath and slow down... and I'll have a better chance of finding the damn door lock.

I'll be back - just not tonight...

We’ve had a rough go of it lately – chills, fevers and vomiting. Tummy aches and sore muscles. Then sore throats and hoarse voices. Besides that we’ve been plugging away next door.

Since I last blogged the project has turned into a home away from home. It has desks and chairs and rugs and bathtowels. It has painted walls, freshly sanded and varnished floors and new mopboard in every room. It has a brand-new bathroom on the second floor. It has pictures waiting to be hung. It has closets still needing painting and it still has a half-finished second floor – one more coat of paint to go on the hallway and bedrooms and then it’s time to sand that floor and give it a fresh coat of paint.

I’ve got hands that have to work to unclench themselves from a paint roller. I’ve got knees that are still black and blue because I thought I could “tough it out” and didn’t need to wear kneepads to be on my hands and knees hand sanding 1,300 square feet of hardwood floor.

And I’ve got a husband who, at 5 am or some other ungodly hour of the morning, will walk out our back door, stroll across the yard and through the side gate and find himself at work. Then, at about 7:15 he’ll join us at home for breakfast and we’ll walk the kids to school.

And the best thing is – he’s been so gracious about all we’ve (as in Charlie, John and I) done at the house and that’s helped make every single ache and pain of the past two months worthwhile.

Dave's Most Embarrassing Moment...

Ever since I posted one of my most embarassing moments on the blog I've been pestering Dave to tell one of his. He was reluctant to (as apparently are all three of my readers) until yesterday morning when I was startled awake at 6:45 am. He flipped on the light and came racing up the attic stairs half laughing, half yelling, "You want to know my most embarassing moment - it just happened! I missed my 5 am flight and just spent the past half hour on the phone trying to figure out how to get to Grenada without having to rebook and spend $1,400." I heard the shower start and through half-open eyes saw him stripping down. "So," he yelled over the sound of the running water. "We need to decide - should I try to make the 8:00 flight, or should we fork out another $1,400?"

I am not one to wake up quickly - except when there's vomit involved and that's a whole different story - so I mumbled something and rolled over. And then thought, "Is he serious? Could he really have missed his flight? Should he really go today? After all, he was gone last night and the kids didn't get to see him at all and then he'll be gone until Sunday. Now he's going to miss the Mardi Gras party. He's not even packed at all - is he?? $1,400 - $1,400!!!" I jumped out of bed. He was already out of the shower and the scramble began.

We raced downstairs - the suitcase was already open at the bottom of the stairs, his shaving kit still in the travel bag from our weekend trip to Detroit Lakes, and clean clothes were in a laundry basket waiting to be taken upstairs and put away. I grabbed underwear from the laundry basket, he grabbed a pile of shorts and shirts from the futon and we just started throwing things in. I got out his shaving kit - he exchanged one razor for another and it was ready to go. He threw in work folders and a pair of socks. I questioned the lone pair of socks but don't know if we ever got an answer... I guess he can always buy socks if he needs them. I told Sophie she needed to get off the laptop (Webkinz you know) and she went to the chair and pouted, "Dad already kicked me off the big computer, now the laptop too!" He said "Sorry, sorry, sorry... Daddy made a mistake" and she realized we were rushing around so all the kids just got out of the way... eyes big watching us as we fired off questions at each other..."Do you have the extra laptop battery? Where is it? What about your work files? Where's your passport?"

His carry-on and passport were at the office - so we threw all the carry-on items, including the laptop, into a grocery bag. He hugged us all, kissed us all, said sorry for what seemed like the millionth time and with a "Just drive carefully" from me, he was out the door headed to the office and then the airport by a little after 7. The kids and I ate breakfast together, laughed a little at what just happened and before they left for school we got a call from Dave telling us he made it onto the first plane.

Whew - is all I can say. Oh, and I feel sorry for whoever was sitting next to him on the plane - he'd been running.

Embarassing Moments

What's your most embarassing moment? I'm sure we can all come up with at least one but there are usually many more in our repertoire. To get the conversation going, I'll share one of mine from about 30 years ago. Here goes...

Motorhomes were the big thing in the late 1970's and early 1980's - my family had one that took us on trips to California and Mexico one year and Washington, DC and Florida the next. Grandma and Grandpa had a mini-version of the motorhome - I loved its quaintness and the cozy feeling I got whenever I was doing dishes in it or just sprawled out reading a book on the cushions. Sometimes when RJ and I were at their house we snuck in so we could pretend we were on our own with a camper - Grandma never liked it much when we did that.

One summer, when I was about 12, they took me, just me, with them on a weekend getaway to Killarney, Manitoba. I packed up my books and my bikini and looked forward to swimming and time with just the two of them. We parked close to the lake and set up the table and chairs in the shade and off I went to the swimming area. There were lots of other pre-teens and teenagers there - and they all seemed to be in big groups. I felt like I was the only person all by myself - and I was a little uncomfortable but not brave enough to go introduce myself to anybody. I just hung out on the beach and then decided to swim out to the floating raft in what seemed like the middle of the lake. I told Grandma I was going to do this and she said, "Are you sure? Be careful." I did my best American Crawl and though I veered off course a few times (as I always do with the crawl) I made it to the raft just fine. Once I hoisted myself up I saw a group of three girls sunning themselves - they were totally self confident and, I could tell at a glance, totally into their looks. Their hair was all wet and slicked back and they had perfect tans - you know the type.

There was a diving board on the raft and I made my way right to it. I dove off the first time, hoisted myself back up on the raft, and then did a flip, followed by more dives. When I got tired I decided to rest on the raft. I picked a spot a few feet away from the girls but I noticed them watching me as I walked over. In fact, I'd noticed them watching me every time I went to the diving board. I thought to myself, "I bet they think I'm pretty good at diving and swimming" and was thrilled when one of them stood up and walked over to me. I thought, "I bet she'll ask me my name and ask me to sit by them." I smiled up at her and she said, "Um, you might want to know that your top is up." My smile froze on my face as I looked down and saw the top piece of my two piece was almost to my collarbone and those breast buds that I was always so careful to hide were bare for the world to see. I muttered, "Thanks." Then I yanked down my top, ran to the diving board and dove in, heading to the beach. I stayed underwater for as long as I could, cheeks burning red and lungs ready to explode. I finally surfaced, grabbed my towel from the chair by Grandma and hung out in the safe refuge of the camper for the rest of the day - mad at myself for being so cocky and too embarassed to go back to the beach since I had no idea who'd seen my bare breasts.

So - what's your story? We'd love to laugh and commiserate with you.

Quilting for a Cause

A close friend was diagnosed with cancer in December and a quilt for her is our latest project. Anna and I stole a pillow from her bedroom and picked out the colors. At the store I was in awe of Anna as she told the clerk we were designing a quilt and then figured out how much material we needed. At that point we were just going to do a larger flying geese pattern than the one we did in October. The clerk was quite dubious when Anna said we were designing our own, but so far it's worked out.

A few Tuesdays ago Caprice joined us with her quilting books and wonderful design ideas. We looked through her books and decided on the pattern - all I knew was I wanted to use flying geese and I wanted to incoporate pinwheels. We quilted all day long - it's pretty amazing what you can do with two people at sewing machines and one at the ironing board. Unfortunately the quilt has sat for the last two weeks - I've been busy at 817 and the flu has been going around town... need I say more?

But here's the pattern - I'm thinking it's beautiful - perfect for a beautiful woman.

817: Our New Project

Our latest project is the house next door, or as we like to call it - 817. It was home to Eleanor and Charlotte until October and we purchased it the end of December. The house was built by Eleanor's father and she lived in it for 84 years until she died on June 23. She'd had a lot of dizzy spells and falls last winter but when she went to the hospital in early May we all thought she'd be back home before too long. After all, she'd been teaching piano lessons up until her last fall... and I guess I just really didn't want to believe she wouldn't be back home.

Charlotte was Eleanor's roommate (she's the one pictured)- they'd shared living quarters since the early 1980's. Before that Eleanor's roommate was Charlotte's sister Elizabeth - but when Elizabeth became sick with breast cancer Charlotte moved here from Michigan to help take care of Elizabeth and after Elizabeth died, she stayed on.

The two were a wonderful pair - both artistic naturalists with excellent minds and musical talents. They were night owls. Before Dave and I moved our bedroom to the attic I would "check" on Eleanor and Charlotte as I was getting ready for bed. I'd look out our bedroom window down into their kitchen window and usually see them at the table -having a late supper or cup of coffee. Reassured they were all right, I'd go to sleep. Later, though, after the girls took over that bedroom I felt more like a spy than a psuedo caretaker so I quit looking out the window. After all, they were 86 and 91 - they certainly seemed to be getting a long better than some of the younger people I knew.

After Eleanor went to the hospital we got to know Charlotte better. She often stopped by for coffee in the late morning or early afternoon. At times she spontaneously joined us for supper out on the patio - but that wasn't all that often since we're big meateaters and she's a vegetarian. She was always gracious and ate anything we could offer - whether it was corn on the cob or potatoes and carrots. She taught me to make a fantastic bread this summer and shared her knowledge of gardening.

When Eleanor died her house was left to her three nephews and since they would have had to totally update the house in order to rent it to Charlotte, they decided to sell it. Charlotte was wonderfully upbeat during this whole time. She spent her evenings going through books and newspaper articles, clothes, dishes, etc... Lucy and I spent afternoons with her going through books and putting them in piles: one for donation, one for Eleanor's family to look through and one to take with her when she moved. She found herself a downtown apartment that would take Erno, her cat. Almost everybody wanted her to move to an assisted living place but she told me she didn't want to live with all those old people. (Keep in mind Charlotte will be 92 on March 9.) So by mid-September Charlotte moved into the Opera House - how fitting as she is a pianist, a celloist and singer. The train tracks are right beside the building and when a train blows its whistle she hurries to the piano and presses keys until she finds the same tune. The kids and I have visited her a few times but it just isn't as easy as walking acorss the yard - now I feel as though I need to make an appointment and I'm not very good at that kind of planning.

When we heard the house was going to be for sale we talked with Bob, one of Eleanor's nephews and told him we might be interested in it. Our plan is to use the upstairs for "guest quarters" - it'll have two bedrooms and a renovated bathroom with a shower. By March Dave will be all moved in with his office occupying the dining room and another space in one of the main floor bedrooms. The dining room will have a big table that can be used for eating and projects - but will probably mostly be used by by Anna and me for weeekend quilting projects. I was going to have the other main floor bedroom be for my quilting things but have since decided against it. So it'll probably be a sitting area. The kitchen will be, well, a kitchen and for now, the basement will remain unfinished - who knows what it'll end up being. If you scoll down you can see pics of the house - before, during and after.

817 Main Floor

The main floor of 817 consists of a back porch, kitchen, dining room, living room, two bedrooms and a very pink bathroom. Here are some before and during pics:
This bedroom will be some office space - it's nice and bright with windows on two walls. There's also a nice size closet. After the flood Charlotte used this as her work space and the walls were entirely covered with ideas for sketches and her nature artwork. In both this and the next room we did a lot of scraping, mudding, and texturing - just look at the ceiling for an example of what a lot of the walls looked like. There's a pic of me working on the floors - from the dust on the camera lens don't you think it's a good idea I have a mask on? I did!

This is the room that I was planning on using as my quilting room, but will now be a sitting room. At one point it held a piano and Eleanor taught piano lessons in it - later, she used it as a bedroom. We moved the chandalier in here out to the living room. There wasn't an overhead light out there so we had one wired up and this will match the dining room light. We also took out all the electric heaters as we had central air put in. At one point, probably in the 1950's, the house served as a model home for electric heat. Unfortunately, these old heaters were slowly going out - one section at a time. The heaters in these back bedrooms had apparently gone out and were then replaced by newer versions of baseboard electric. You can see the old electric ones in the pics from the living room (below).

Here's the living room. As dining room and living room were redone only about five years ago, mostly all we're doing here is painting and redoing the hardwood floors. In the pic of Dave doing the floors you can see a little of the dining room and the living room. What do you think of the color? You'd best be liking it because it's all over the main floor!


I don't have a good picture of the kitchen prior to it being painted the green color - but it, just like the living room and dining room, had been done about five years ago. In this pic you can see the back entryway - it (as well as the kitchen) was sort of a butter yellow color. We found original hardwood floor underneath two layers of linoleum and a layer of plywood so we tore it up last weekend and will get it sanded down sometime next week.


As you can see it was a family affair - the kids helped pull out more than 2,000 staples.


Sophie also helped do some more scraping in the pantry area - don't worry she only did it for about five minutes before calling it quits. Also - notice the mask and the safety eyewear!

Here's the pink bathroom. As we've spent A LOT of money on gutting and renovating the upstairs bath, this one will stay pink for awhile. Michelle came and helped me do some "wallpapering" of sorts - it's done with brown craft paper all crinkled up and then pasted to the wall - but I'm not really happy with it so we stopped. I've decided I'll finish the papering but then leave the staining and/or painting of it until Mom comes home from Arizona and can help me with colors.

There you go - that's it for the main floor of 817. I'll get pictures from the upstairs posted sometime next week.