Saturday, April 25, 2015

A Bit of Flooding

It looked like it was going to be a pretty nice day (for here), and we decided to take a little stroll on one of our favorite paths.   Except, we ran into a little problem....

 OK, it was a bigger problem than we first thought.
 We took a lot of de-tours.
 And found some debris.
 Good thing we had batman with us!
 At least it's really spring now.

First Fishing Trip of Spring

 It's near the end of April, so ya know, FISHING.  Except, it was like fifty degrees hot that day because you know, eternal winter.  So everyone bundled up and got excited about catching some trout. 
 While they fished I set up a chair optimally in a sunny patch and tucked myself in a blanket up to my nose.  
 About fifteen minutes later, they were stubbornly fishing and I had moved back to the warm car with my book.   
About an hour later, they came empty handed and shivering to the car.  My husband said something along the lines of, "Boy, it sure is cold out. Whose idea was this again?" 

That Bird Guy


We have a really wonderful library, which offers many awesome programs for kids of all ages.  We recently attended their "That Bird Guy" evening show.  The minute we walked in the door, my children were suddenly decorated from head to torso with exotic birds. 


 Each bird had a unique story.  Once everyone was present and seated the bird guy told us about each individual bird.  There were birds from all over the world in his care, from the Congo to the Amazon rainforest.  The white cockatoo, was extremely intelligent.  She could say "hello," answer yes/no questions, and play basketball.  She had been purchased in a pet store, but the person who owned her did not realize Cockatoo's produce "cockatoo dust" which can be very bad for human lungs without the proper ventilation system and care, and ended up having to give her up.   She was also sixty years old! Whoah!

 Louie, the parrot, had another sad tale.  He was a rescue bird from a pet store whose owner shut the pet store down and left all the animals inside.  After a while, people started hearing lots of strange noises coming from inside and sent animal control to investigate.  That is how Louie came to be a part of the "bird guy's" show.  Louie played a marvelous game of ring toss!
 The bird guy told us all about "bird language" and how different species of birds have a different type of song, or language.  One of his most heartwarming tales was about one of the smaller parakeets from the congo, who had been enclosed with bigger birds and had the majority of his beak ripped off.  He would certainly have died without his beak since he couldn't eat, so the bird guy bottle fed him every day.  But one day, he found the injured parakeet with a bird from the amazon, who was feeding him.  They had become friends even though they were from different parts of the world and had different songs.
 One of the most entertaining stories we heard was about Robins.  The male builds the female a nest, and if she doesn't like that nest, she tears it apart and smashes it on the ground, and the male has to build her another one.  The kids howled with laughter at this story.

Thank you library! What an enjoyable, informative event!

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter!
Easter found us enjoying a good old fashioned Easter Egg hunt in the backyard with friends.  The neighborhood hunt which we were going to attend was cancelled due to cold weather.  However, by the afternoon, things had warmed up significantly.  


 For funsies we did some extra stuff like Easter Egg relay races. 
 And an Easter Egg bucket toss.

The night before Easter, Josh confided in me that he would like to do an Easter Scavenger hunt with the kids.  The plan was to hide their Easter baskets in the guest room and leave a series of twelve clues around the house and yard leading them to said baskets.  Only hitch was a certain child woke up on the wrong side of the bed and mistakenly thought this was the same concept as the Easter Egg hunt the day before where you make a mad dash for any and all eggs you can find.  So, when Ryan, our reader, would dash off and inevitably pick up the egg clue first, Dylan went into melt down mode.  Ryan, being a good big brother, scaled back and tried to help Dylan by letting him get the egg clues first.  But at this point Dylan was disillusioned and ran upstairs and threw himself in bed, putting the covers up over his face.  It took some consoling and serious talking to get him to join the "fun" again. 



Easter Traditions are fun.  Every year we do a basket for the kids.  Usually it contains some item of clothing they can wear to church that day (a new shirt, or hat) a chocolate bunny or cross,  and a few candy filled Easter Eggs.  This year, I put the childrens devotional "God's Names" by Sally Michael in his basket.  This came highly recommended by a friend and so far I have been very impressed with it.  The premise of the book is that by learning the names of God (e.g. Elohim, Jehoviah Jirah, Jehovah Shalom, etc), you learn ore about the nature and character of God.  Dylan received two new Donut Man cd's.  
We enjoyed going to the Easter Service at Church and taking some pictures to mark the occasion (and everyone happened to look nicer than usual, so that's always a bonus


 

Happy Easter!














Bringing Esteban Home

This story is for Ryan (6 years old) who constantly says, "Tell me about the time you got Esteban when he was a baby Mom."  One day you can read this as often as you like.

Bringing Esteban Home
It was December 27, 2006.  At that time in my life I was completing my internship for speech therapy.   My roommate since freshman year of college had just moved out to go on with her life and I was beginning to seriously consider getting a puppy.  It was not a fun thought coming home to a dark, lonely appartment.  It seemed like a puppy might bring a lot needed companionship and cheer.  
I had some Christmas money from my grandparents.  I had been trying to decide what to get my boyfriend (now my husband) for his birthday that day.  I had been to the one or two places around town and hadn't found anything I thought was very compelling.   After stopping at Walmart, the town's biggest shopping area and the one that held the greatest possiblities and coming up empty, I found myself contemplating taking the highway right off Walmart out to the Humane Society.....just to look.  Not to buy anything of course.  Just to browse around.  But I took my Christmas money...just in case. 
They had a lot of puppies that time of year.  There were a lot of cute ones.  I knew I wanted something that would be big, sturdy, protective and dependable.  A type of dog who could stand to go running with me and who, later, would hopefully be good with kids.  I found myself standing in front of a cage holding eleven eight-week old wiggly puppies, mostly brown with different markings.  There was one who had pushed his way to the front, climbing over all the rest.  His eyes were gorgeous.  They were a blue-ish green with dark black markings.  He was a silver-grayish-brown.   The tag said these puppies were a "chow-hound-shepherd mix." I asked if I could get to know that one with the pretty eyes.  They took him out for me and let me play with him in the front yard.  He didn't walk.  He hopped, like a bunny and his ears flopped around his face.  His tail had a slight curl up, the chow in him, I suppose.  When I petted him, he was surprisngly fluffy and silky soft.  In that clumsy puppy way he stumbled and tripped over himself to where I sat and made himself at home in my lap, curling up in a plump ball.  
I decided I should probably think about it some more. A puppy was a big responsibility after all. I wasn't sure how I felt about the "chow" breed.  So, naturally, when it came time to leave, I found myself paying for him, signing some papers, tucking him under my arm and settling him in my lap where he snuggled in and fell asleep as I drove home.  
I had to break it to my sweet guy that for his birthday I had bought myself a puppy.  He was a real sport about the whole thing.  He groaned.  He said I was not allowed to name it.  It had been a long running joke that I thought of the most horrible names and would never be allowed to name pets or children (especially after I named my roomate/my shared cat "Hegbert.") Josh said very firmly that he would call my puppy "Steve" to "Bring normallacy to his life."  When I discovered the spanish variant of "Steve" was "Esteban," I knew I had my name. 

I bought Esteban a sizable crate, one that would grow with him.  I got him a neat water dish that attached itself to a liter soda bottle and refilled as needed.  I got him a cute food bowl, leash, collar.....Josh drew the line at the dog jacket though, claiming he would not be seen with a dog that wore clothes.  I set him up with a vet and got his vaccinations up to date.  I started the potty training process.  
Whenever he would squat down to do his business somewhere in the house, I was on him like a flash picking him up and dashing outside with him, where he would finish and get praised and treated.  He cried the first few nights (prior to getting his crate)....but as soon as he was trustworthy around the house, I left his crate open for him and he usually made his way to the foot of my bed.  
He was docile and easy to train.  He had a habit of following me around the house and settling in a corner of the room, keeping an eye on me while I studied or worked at the computer, or dozing next to my chair.  When I came home from work, he would pick up the nearest thing to him, usually an old sock (which I stuffed and left in his crate to help with teething), his tail wagging so hard his whole butt shook from side to side furiously.  To this day, as a middle-aged dog, he has a terrible habit of picking socks up around the house and walking around with them.
I will never forget one day, when I had taken him to my parents house with me for dinner.  My little sisters were chasing each other from room to room and Esteban was romping in his clumsy way around their feet.  One of them slipped on the slick kitchen floor and fell on him.  The yelp of distress Esteban let out was so loud and so panicked I thought for sure I'd have to take him to the vet.   Like a bolt of greased lightning he shot across the floor, nails clicking, and huddled in my lap, shaking.  My dad remarked that Esteban "knew who his mommy was." 


Sneaky Esteban

Someone recently asked for more stories about Eliott and Esteban, how we got them and their funny personalities.  So, Connie Kangas, these stories are for you. 


December of 2008 saw Josh and I moving our things on a brisk, cold night into an elegant farmhouse with eleven acers of land complete with a large, sturdy barn and down the hill a ways, a fishing pond.  The coyotes were howling that night as we unloaded the last of our things into the basement via the cellar door.  Josh wrapped his arm around me as we stood by the truck in the quiet dark, the bright stars shining down, and the white gleam of the snow stretching as far as we could see, even in the dark.  Our breath made cloudy puffs as we talked.  

"It will be so hard to leave Esteban in that barn." I told him.  Esteban, was my one year old hound/german shepherd mix and my pride and joy(and quite spoiled for a dog). We were moving from my tiny appartment to this spacious land outside the city limits to house-sit for six months. My new husbands' professor was scheduled to go on sabbatical to New Zealand with his family. His house and farm dog, a gorgeous Great Pyraneese named Gabby, needed watching.  

Gabby, we were told by her owners, was used to being outside, protecting her land and living in the barn at night.  As a result of her constant time outdoors, Gabby had grown an impressive, thick winter coat.  A winter coat my pampered Esteban had not had an opportunity to grow, spending most of his time in the luxury of a warm appartment.  Josh gave me a squeeze and assured me that Esteban would adapt.  "Esteban will be just fine," Josh tried to reassure me, "He will grow a winter coat in no time, just you see.  Besides, the barn will be warm enough."  

We officially "moved in" the day after Christmas during a snow-storm.  We led an excited Esteban out to the barn.  The barn was spacious and well-lit. There was a pile of straw and a heat lamp in one corner to keep Esteban and Gabby comfortable during the cold days and nights. There was a ladder which led to the loft, where many bales of hay were stacked, along with summer hoses stowed for the winter.  There was some large farm machinery (for mowing and such) in another corner of the barn.  Next to the front door of the barn was an impressive tool bench and all sorts of tools neatly organized.  Next to these were two large sealed trashcans full of dogfood.  We were told several weeks ago of the importance of placing the lids on snugly after feedings, because although mice were inevitable, it did help keep the rats away. The sliding side door of the barn opened to a large penned in area Dr. Beck had prepared just for Esteban so he would not get lost and run away in his new surroundings.  We kept that sliding door open a crack so Esteban could go out to relieve himself or play, whenever he needed to.  

Gabby, the old farmdog, kept her distance from Esteban.  Although she tolerated him, she did not seem too happy about this new animal on her farm.  We played outside in the snow with Esteban.  Gabby, a professional guard-dog, had no use for such silly games and refused to play fetch, frisbee, or ball.  She maintained her distance, watching somewhat disdainfully.  After a while, we were ready to go inside and warm up.  We closed Esteban in his pen in the barn, turned the lights off, and shut the barn door.  

That's when Esteban began to cry.  He yipped and yelped and whined.  He paced (frantically).   I imagine he was scared and lonely.  He had never been separated from me overnight.  In fact, after his crate-training was completed, he had taken to curling up at the foot of my bed....and much like the fabled "Camel in the tent," would creep from the foot to the top of the bed.  It had become a point of contention between Esteban and my new husband.  There were times Josh wanted to snuggle with me but found himself snuggling a large, hairy, snoring Esteban who had moved himself from the foot of the bed to the middle of the bed.  Esteban would be ordered to get down, or given a rude kick or shove, by my dear husband on nights like these.  

I can not describe how conflicted, sad and torn I felt leaving my crying puppy out on a cold night.  It did not get any easier when the coyotes took up their mournful cry.  But, the Beck family had requested we leave Esteban outside except for extreme weather situation (such as negative temperatures).  Farms and dogs, when mixed, tend to produce the type of dirtiness you don't want in a house (which I was soon to discover).  

It got easier for Esteban.   Over the next few weeks the crying grew less frequent.  His fur began to thicken too.  But one bitter cold night, we decided to let him in for ONE night.  Gabby could not be pursuaded, but her coat was infinitly thicker than Esteban's coat.   I will never forget this night.  We took him into the cozy warm house and right away gave him his first bath in weeks.  We dried him off.  He curled up on the couch and put his heavy head in my lap while I sipped tea and we all watched a movie.  Then, he followed us upstairs to bed.  

He dutifully layed down on his old pillow I had brought up for the occasion.  Then we all settled in for the night.   It was pitch black, except for the slanted light from the moon coming in through the window, when the creak woke me up.  I lay very still listening.  I could hear Josh's heavy breathing, signifying deep sleep.  I raised my head slightly and saw him.  Esteban had put a stealthy paw on Josh's side of the bed.  Esteban's whole body froze when Josh snorted and stirred and his big doggy head was turned watching Josh intently. I had to stiffle a laugh.  Then, surprisingly lightly for a 70 pound dog, he completed the leap onto the foot of the bed and crawled around to my side, as FAR from Josh as he could get, and curled up at my feet and rested his head on my legs, with an enormous sigh of contentment.  I patted him on his head and before sleep crept up on me again, I had to marvel at the sneakiness of this dog and the lengths he went to to be with his favorite person.  

                                           Esteban as a young puppy napping on my lap.
















Saturday, April 4, 2015

March Tidbits

On the first day of March, it snowed. A lot.  That's OK.  I have long since adjusted my expectations of March out here.  Out here, instead of looking forward to nicer weather, we can pretty much just expect more snow...until April.   So, Josh and Ryan and Dylan built a nice big snowman.

 As an added bonus, this snowman even had stick-hair.
 Just before the 20th---the official first day of spring, we had our first significant thaw.  
 The temperatures were probably in the 40's.  This called for rolling the windows down in the car and singing loudly.  And only wearing jackets instead of coats. And playing on the playground.

 On the 20th, the first day of spring, it snowed again. 
 So, we spent some time at the science museum learning about the water cycle.
 And making Cartesian divers. 
 For the first time, we attended a planetarium show.  
 Ryan learned how to make grape juice from scratch this month.  I had no idea he knew how to do this.  Apparently his dad has been teaching him how to cook things in the kitchen.   First he gets a cup full of fresh grapes.
 He blends it in the bullet.
 Then he strains out the skins and pulp.
 Adds a teaspoon of sugar, and enjoys his hard-earned juice.
 This month we also switched Dylan to a booster. 
 In preparation for Easter, we made "Easter Rolls."  We put the marshmellow inside the roll to symbolize Jesus in the tomb.  When we pulled the baked rolls out, the marshmellow was gone and our roll was "empty." 

 Also, I think this happens at least once a year, when Dylan gets an uncontrollable peanut butter craving and scales all obstacles for a good old handfull of peanut butter.
And so ends March.