Idea Bank Entry...

So, since my brain isn't kicking out any ideas, I think I am going to finally delve into the "Idea Bank".  Without further ado, I give you my first manufactured topic:

Idea Bank Topic: Skincare Routine.
Tell us about your favorite products.  Do you switch up your routine for lady’s night out or a date with your significant other/spouse? Include your favorite washes, toners, serums, and makeup.

My momma always had beautiful skin.  Even in her 70's, her skin remained smooth, clear and enviable.  My sister and I have always hoped that we inherited her skin. We've decided Mom had three things working in her skin's favor.

The first was good genetics.  Looking at pictures of her Dad, it is clear she inherited her pretty skin from him.

The second thing working for her was she honestly did not like spending too much time in the sun.  I don't ever remember seeing her with a tan. 

The third thing was something she did for herself:  She always had a great skin care routine.  She never ever went to bed with make up on her face.  For eye makeup removal, she used Vaseline always.  All of the other products she used seemed to change throughout the years; she seemed to try every thing out there.  The one thing that remained constant was the effort she put forth.

With Mom as inspiration (plus the fact that she always had awesome face stuff to try), I've pretty much always had a good skin care routine.  When I was younger, I used things like Noxzema (ouch), and St. Ives Apricot Scrub.  When I had break outs, there were moments of desperation when I would boil some water, and then steam my face to "open my pores".  I don't know if it actually worked, but it calmed me down to have some sort of Fix It in my skin care arsenal.

These days, my routine is very basic.  My favorite product is plain old witch hazel.   The brand I used is T.N. Dickinson's.   I've been using this stuff for about the last four years, and I LOVE it.  It helps to reduce redness,  clear up breakouts, and make pores look smaller.  I know this should just be considered as a toner, but I use it for the whole kabang- no face wash for me these days.  By just using the witch hazel, I get clean skin without any of the dryness that a lot of other cleansers have caused.

About three times a week, I exfoliate.  I usually try to do this at night so my face will have a chance to get over any redness by morning.  I've used a lot of different exfoliation products over the years.  It's been one thing I've been willing to spend a little more money on, because I can tell a huge difference in my skin when I keep it exfoliated.  What I use these days is by far the best I've found.   It is...(drum roll please)... Coconut oil and baking soda.  This combo makes my skin feel so smooth and helps keep it clear.

I always use some sort of sunscreen.  The only requirements I need from it are that it is face friendly and won't make me break out.  These days, I'm using a powder sunscreen that I apply after my makeup.

I've never really been faithful to any specific moisturizer, but lately I've found a few things I'm liking.  I've been using InstaNatural Vitamin C Serum for the last 6 months.  When I use it, my skin looks brighter.

Derrick bought me a gift certificate to Skin Chic for our anniversary this year.  I've always steered clear of that place because it's stuff is crazy expensive, and I was afraid if I actually tried any of it I might get hooked.  I went in for an amazing facial, and came out with a bunch of samples.  One of them worked especially well for me:  Epionce Renewal Cream.  I broke down and bought it, which was a big deal for my frugal self.  Worth it.  My pores look much nicer, and it helps with some of my fine lines.

Since trying new make up out is fun, I haven't developed a lot of loyalties with it.  I tend to stick with a very neutral pallet- lots of browns and coppers for my eyes.  Every once in awhile I will try to spice it up for a night out, but I rarely just love the results.  Basic and neutral just does the trick for me.  My foundation choices always have sunscreen in them, for that extra layer of protection.  I like a sheer red lip color.

That pretty much wraps up my skincare routine.

Den of Sickness

Derrick is super sick again.  This time it is the throwing up, white and shaking like a leaf kind of sick.  Last time it was the sore throat, fever, shaking like a leaf kind of sick (only a week ago).  Derrin ended up with the fever /sore throat today too.  We are the den of sickness around here.

Telling people you are living in the den of sickness does not make them giggle like it does me.  Just fyi (to myself) for future reference.

I'm not afraid of getting sick.

The last time I was super sick was after going to Mexico to visit Derrick's parents, which was almost two years ago.  I ended up with bronchitis and two ear infections, and Kloe ended up with food poisoning.

The special story we like to spring on unsuspecting friends has to do with that flight home from Mexico, when I (bronchitis girl, so sick I could barely sit there) was sitting with Kloe (food poisoning girl, destined to vomit both on the way up (which I was prepared for), and on the way down (which I was NOT prepared for)... (and yes, I realized that that was a parentheses with in a parenthesis..... sometimes you should just expect this blog to be an English nightmare!!)  We ended that flight with both of us covered with... unpleasantness.

We had a lay over in Houston though, so at least we were able to soak our clothes off before then last flight home the next morning.

Anyways, poor Derrick has been sick for way too long.  I'm feeling bad for him... he'd hoped he'd managed to mostly kick it before this last bit started kicking him back.

Whenever he gets this sick, it is very unsettling for me.  I'm too used to him being the strong one around here.  Of course I can rise to the occasion to do everything that needs to be done.... but I very much prefer for him to be feeling good, and taking the lead in our life (I'm sure somewhere inside me, the fifteen year old feminist is screaming at me for that statement).

Poor guy needs to get better, and not just because I need him to.

The Ol' Switcheroo

It is currently March 16th.  Four more days until Spring is officially here.

We have almost officially survived winter in Montana, once again.

It actually has been a very mild winter.  It began looking like Spring more than a month ago, but I didn't believe it was real.  I was fairly certain this was Montana playing a big joke on us, tricking all of our Spring flowers to start growing too early so It could drop it's temperature on their tender baby green growth and kill them all dead.

Spring without Spring flowers, Montana's cruel idea of a joke.

I was so sure that was going to be the outcome that I buried all of my premature baby crocuses and tulips under mounds of old leaves last month. This morning I saw all my baby plants have fought their way out of their unnecessary protective blanket, defiantly showing me they will not stand for this over guarded stance I have taken for them.

So be it.  They are ready now.

Speaking of protective blankets and guarded stances, we have decided to try a different approach to Kloe's Middle School experience.  Starting next Fall, we are going to give home school a try.

Academically, she is doing great in school this year; all A's and B's and nothing but praise from all of her teachers.  She is growing up, and is a very funny kid.  I truly enjoy being around her most of the time.  But I can also see the social pressure pushing in on her, trying to shape and mold some of her attitudes on life.  I just can't stand the idea of her specialness being shaped into this idea of Typical American Teenager.  Can. Not. Stand. It.

I don't know if it's just a difference of temperament between Derrin and Kloe that has allowed him to get through Middle School without the outward manifestation of The Social Pressure Molding.   Maybe Middle School is harder on girls?  Maybe it is easier for me to recognize in my daughter because I had that same thing trying to shape me once upon a time ago.

We have offered Derrin the option of home school next year as well, but he has already enrolled in High School and is pretty excited about his classes.  But the option remains open.

What do we hope to achieve with home school versus public school?

My biggest goal is to provide an environment where she will be able to grow into the best version of herself.

She is naturally drawn to singing, writing, and art.  I'm hoping that by encouraging growth in those areas, it will help her form an idea of self-identity that has nothing to do with trying to fit in and be like everyone else.


I've been doing a lot of self-reflection during this decision.  Am I asking more from my daughter than I ask of myself?  It isn't fair to expect her to do the work of being her best self if I am not also doing the work of being my best self.

Self-discipline is going to be the quality that keeps this thing afloat or sinks it.  The only way I can expect her to have self-discipline is if I also have it in my own life.

Next fall I won't be going back the seasonal job I've worked the last six years.  I'll be home with Kloe, helping with home school.  I'll have a separate goal list for myself.

I've been looking into different online home school programs.  One of the that looks promising combines 7th and 8th grade.

My ideal/dream week of home school would look like this:

• Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday:  Get up at 7, get ready for the day.  Start school by 8.  Do the basic school stuff for about three-four hours. 

Other Ideas:

• Do something physically active, like play basketball (she mentioned that when we first discussed this with her), go on walks, see if she can do some things at my gym with me.
• Enroll her in an art class or have a voice coach once a week.
• Schedule definite times throughout the week to hang out with her friends, and plan on doing some traveling to make that happen.
• Spend more time with family... see if she can hang out with Aunt Renae, and Lyndsay.
• Have an actual mid-week service day that we can spend together.
• Derrick offered to spend more time teaching her how to play golf.
• She can also work in his office throughout the week to make some money.
• We can go on field trips together.
• Things I would love to share with her: Photography, painting, working with stained glass, making jewelery, and anything else we can dream up together.

Who knows how it will work out.  I've heard positive and negative experiences from different ones who have done it.  I'm hoping that by exploring ideas and defining the results we want, as well as acknowledging that we will have challenges, we'll have a better chance of aligning our hopes with what becomes reality.

A Bit of This and That

This summer is going by so fast, like all summers do.  For me, it felt like it started earlier than usual this year.

Derrick's parents came up from Mexico for visit us around the first part of May, and for me that seemed to kick off summer.  They stayed a week with us, and then flew to Seattle to spend a week with David and Tara.  It was great to get to see them.

We had our International Convention in Seattle in the beginning of July, and the first part of summer was the build up and excitement of that event.  We had a great time over there.

The convention was at the Husky Stadium, which officially made it the first outdoor assembly we (as in Montanans over there- I hear a lot of other states do have outdoor assemblies quite often) have ever been to.

There were delegates from all over the world there.  It was great to see them in their native garb, and we were able to at least say hi to quite a few of them.  We were able to sit with all of our family all three days.  It was very hot and sunny, which partially made me happy because for once I was completely prepared for it with umbrellas, tons of sunscreen, sunglasses, hat.  It all went by too fast.  It was a beautiful event in our lives, and I am so glad that we all got to share it together.

Beyond that, we have been enjoying the regular fun times of summer in Montana.  So far we have been camping twice, once up Painted Rock with friends, and once in T. Falls with family.

This is the third year we have done the family camping trip in T. Falls.  The first time we went there we were all a little disgusted that we hadn't put a little more forethought into reserving a camping place at any of the lakes we like to go to in Montana.  Everything was all filled up, so out of desperation we decided to go to T. Falls.  It seemed ridiculous, like doing a big camping trip in your backyard (since we all grew up around there and some of us still live there).  But when we actually settled into the state park there, we realized the water was great, the fishing was better than most other places, and it was genuinely one of the most beautiful places we'd ever camped.  It also just seems a bit appropriate that for our family camping trip we all gather at where our roots started.

The last two years have been completely sunny and perfect for playing down by the river, but this year it was a bit cooler.  It was still warm enough to spend some time by the river, but on Sunday it drizzled most of the day and cooled off.  We took advantage of that weather to drive way up into the boonies and pick huckleberries.

Last weekend, Derrick, the kids, and I went on a day hike back into the Bitterroot National Forrest.  This time we hiked about three miles in to three little lakes.

We first stopped at Baker Lake to have a snack.  Since it was the closest lake in, there were more people there, and I could see why.  It is high enough that even on a warm July day, we were surrounded by snow capped peaks.  There were fish jumping everywhere as we walked along it shores, and you could actually see fish swimming around in the shallower edge water.  We continued walking further in, and eventually hit Middle Lake and then Gem Lake.

We'd been wanting to see Gem Lake ever since reading about it in our hiking book.  The book described it as having aquamarine waters.  Honestly, it didn't quite live up to the hype of the book, but it was still a lovely little lake and we were able to play in some of the snow piles around it's edges.

I think Kloe enjoyed this hike a bit better than last years big hike.  There were still some moments when she was not loving it (mostly the going up up upward moments) but over all she seemed happier with it.  Derrin just plugged along.

There was one part on the way down when Derrick and the kids started playing on these crazy rock formations that looked like pure death to me.

I am insanely afraid of heights, and watching them climb on those things had my hands sweating and trying to hold myself back from begging them to come down.  It's one of those mom things I think:  On one hand I want them to be fearless and able to explore the world.  On the other hand, I want to wrap them in bubble wrap and keep them locked up in their rooms where nothing can ever hurt them.

I felt the same way the very next day when we took them inner tubing down the Blackfoot River.  Both kids have had years of swimming lessons and are honestly better swimmers than I am, and the stretch of river we were going down was a fairly calm one.  It still scares me, even as I want them out there.

I remember my poor mom worrying like that, especially when we were playing on the river.  I'm talking about her worrying when when I was already an adult with kids of my own.  I have been assured by lots of other mothers that this worrying thing does not just go away.  Reminds me of an Elisabeth Stone quote, "Making the decision to have a child is momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body".

There is only one more day of July after today.  It is hot out there.  Kloe and I went to Splash MT yesterday to beat the heat.  It was only the second time we have been there.  Both times we met up with Sabrina and her kids and had a great time.  I am hoping for more of those good times in August.

Derrin didn't go with us this time because he was riding bikes with his buddy Austin.  This summer has been one of increasing freedoms for my boy.  He's been allowed to go riding with Austin into town, and to have more exploring time.  He has thoroughly enjoyed it, and although he still likes to hang out with his fam (I think?), I can tell he's really itching to just head out with friends.  It's a normal thing- I can very much remember feeling that way when I was his age.

We have more things planned for August.  More hiking, more camping, and Derrick has signed up to pioneer that month (and I am still thinking about it).  Dustin, David and Tara are coming next weekend, and we are very excited for that.  The three brothers are planning a backpacking trip for the weekend, and I am excited for them.

Sooo, here is to hoping that August doesn't zip by as fast as the rest of summer has!:)

Monkey Business

Upon waking this morning, it occurred to me that my poor little blog has been utterly abandoned by myself for quite awhile.  Deciding to poke around in here and stir up some ideas to write about (I even made a new "Idea Bank" for myself!), I realized that I had started a post around the middle of June, and then promptly forgot that I had written it down.  So, here is the first post of summer 2014:

Today was the first real day of summer vacation for the kids. Normally, I have mentally prepared myself for this day, but there has been a lot going on around here.  Actually, I only returned last night from my sis's big move day (well, not exactly THE big move day, but they have sold their big house and moved into the apartment they own in T. Falls to buy some time while they hunt for a house in Zoo Town).

As soon as I was driving back into town, Derrin was messaging me that he wanted his friend to be able to come over in the morning because it was the only way that his friend would be able to go to the movie later that day with Derrin and all of his pals.

It was fine with me, except for my plan of going to the gym this morning since I had missed my work out day yesterday.  It would mean leaving Derrin, his friend, and Kloe on their own for a little while.

Honestly, I don't worry too much.  They are all good kids, and they are getting old enough that a couple hours on their own is okay.  The problem is, they are also getting old enough that I need to worry about 'boy/girl' stuff now.  This is one of the issues any family with both sexes of kids is eventually going to face, especially when they are close in age.  I've talked to both my kids about it at one time or another.  'Tis the facts of life.  Unfortunately for them (if they ever do develop a crush on their sibling's friends), I have been there myself, and very much understand what can happen.

With that in mind, I pulled Derrin aside before taking off to the gym and gave him another 'lecture' about how he needs to look out for his sister (Someday I will give her the SAME lecture.  Fair play and all.) around other boys...  Even the nice boys... Even the nice friends.  The big rule is no boy/girl combination ever goes by themselves into private rooms.  Today, I told Derrin he gets to be the watch out for anything like that where his sister is concerned (and someday *once again* Kloe will be bestowed with the same honor for her brother).

After taking care of such 'business', I took off and went to the gym and didn't come back until noon.

When I did come back, all three kids were playing MineCraft, Kloe's very favorite game.  I'm pretty sure they were in a world she had created, which is always amusing because she totally has the upper hand on her brother.

As I watched her, I realized she is NOT in that teen zone yet.  She was still in her pj's, her hair was crazy, she was barking out orders to both boys about how to play the game, and as I walked toward her I sniffed and there was this onion.... aroma.

I asked her if she'd been in the chives again.  "Oh yeah Mom", she said,"and you know what you SHOULDN'T do?  Eat a whole purple chive flower.  Whoo!"  

My girl, if you ever read this, you made your momma laugh really hard today, just by being your adorable eleven year old self who just lives in the moment with crazy hair, chive breath, all while beating the boys at Minecraft. I couldn't adore you more:)

Eventually, we took off for the movie.  Today it was "The Fault in Our Stars", which in my opinion was a really great Chick Flick.  It was NOT, however, a movie I would have picked out to take 5 boys ages 15 and under to.  The only reason I could decipher for all of them wanting to go to this particular movie (because the fact that one of two of them, including Derrin, actually read the John Green book the movie was based on did not seem to curb ANY adolescent boy behavior during the movie) was the fact that there was a certain very cute 15 year old girl there (who shall remain anonymous) who had announced that she would like to see it.

The seating arrangement of our raucous group was this:

BOY:BOY
BOY:BOY:BOY:CUTE 15 YEAR OLD GIRL:KLOE:MYSELF

Notice how somehow I ended up clear on the far edge.  This created two issues for me:

 #1- I could not yell at, get the attention of, kick the back of the seats of, or flick the ears of any of the boys who chose to exhibit these behaviors during this emotionally charged movie: talking, throwing popcorn, and making fun of sobbers (and this movie had a lot of them).  We were THAT group.  The group women throughout the theater would recall to mind whenever this particular movie comes up in conversation.  We were The Ruiners of a Good Cry group; the most hated movie group of them all.

#2- Because of my close proximity to this group of monkeys and the fact that I was the only adult, I ended up looking like the adult monkey. 

I learned two lessons from this experience:

#1- Never, ever sit BY a group of silly boys during any movie (but especially a movie that causes icky uncomfortably weepy feelings that must be combated with militant mockery), and

#2- Instead, either choose the sit BEHIND said group for the aforementioned kicking of the back of the seats and flicking of ears, or even better, sit far far away where there is NO guilt by association attached to myself.

Eh, summer lessons, they begin early around here.

No More Shufflin'

(Written Friday, March 14th.)

Wednesday marked my first run in a long time.  After running for far longer than I thought I would be able to, I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  That was about the time my knee started to ache.  

Pushing through, I focused on a house not too far ahead along the magic dirt road, and thought I could at least make it that much further.  Within a few steps, my ankle and hip started speaking up as well.  Grrrr.  

Slowing down to a walk, I realized the reason I had been able to run so far initially was I had been employing my usual shuffle/run.  This style of running has allowed me to run long distances for years, but it's also messed up the right side of my body in the process.  

My whole running process was broke down by a physical therapist I went to a couple of summers ago.  He actually recorded me running so I could see what I was doing wrong.  I basically run straight up and down, with no leaning forward, and my right knee/ankle turns inward every single stride.  I got away with it for a long time, but eventually my body started fighting back with pain.  

When the PT tried to teach me a better way to walk (because I've apparently been doing that wrong too) it just felt wrong.  Because doing anything a new way after years and years of doing it a different way always feels wrong.

Walking his way, I feel like a cowboy/gun fighter making my way into a saloon.  My legs are wider, and I am swinging my hips in an exaggerated swagger.  My arms swing in an intentional symmetrical motion, never missing a beat (normally, I only swing my left arm and my right arm stays glued to my side, which I am sure looks completely natural).  Running his way, I feel like a prancing pony.  My knees swing up high, and I can actually feel the moment both of my feet are off the ground between strides (this never happens while shuffling along). The problem is, the way I feel comfortable walking/running hurts me, and his way (although it hurts my pride) doesn't.  

This morning I went out there to give it another go, determined I was going to figure this out.  I would love to do another 1/2 marathon, but it's never going to happen if I can't stop the pain!  So, I put on my music and started my fast paced cowboy swagger up the road.  No pain.  Eventually, I broke into my 'high knee pony prance jog', and again no pain.  

The no pain part is good!  The bad thing (besides feeling a little silly) is that to achieve the right form, I have to run faster than I am used to.  I also have to focus on taking a higher stride each step, and the extra lifting of my thighs demands a lot more effort from me.  So, so much harder than my chillaxin shuffle/jog.  The walk to jog ratio was not as impressive today as it was on Wednesday.  Not at all.  It's going to take some stubbornness on my part to keep it going.  

One thing I've had to decide is that Jessy isn't going to be my walking/running buddy anymore.  It does make me sad, but I can't achieve the focus I need on my form with her by my side.  Between the physical pain of running with the bad form I have when I can't concentrate, and the frustration of running with this obstinate little creature who is yanking me all over the place in her distraction (so many things to smell and check out while out and about), it makes it VERY difficult to have the drive it takes to go out my front door and hit the pavement.  Little Jessy is a good girl, but when you walk with her, it is about her and keeping HER focused.  I'll just have to make time later in the day for her walks, and also the kids can get her out there.

ANYHOO, we (Derrick, Derrin and Kloe as well as a group of very good friends) are signed up for The Color Run May 3rd.  I also got a notice that The Tree Run 5k (did this run a couple of years ago) is April 12th, and I am thinking about signing up for that one as well.  Hopefully, having a couple of runs like this on the horizon will be enough to get my butt out the door running throughout this Spring and on into Summer.

A Few Scars of Life

 Once when I was about three years old (my mother told me), I was running across our living room, and in an early incident of what eventually became my trademark clumsiness, I ran into our wood stove.

It was in the middle of winter, so the stove was hot.  As my mom always did like a very warm house, I am sure that the iron of the stove was just a touch shy of being orange with heat (oh, for the good old days *non-sarcastically thought*).

Instead of jerking away like a normal person (Mom also recounted), I stood there a touch longer than a rational mind would have demanded before pulling away and screaming (I've been told I had an especially nerve shattering scream in my early youth).

As I sit here 34 years later, I still have the scar that runs across the top of two of my fingers on my right hand.

Around age 4ish here...
sporting a classic backwards wig.

Once when I was about nine years old, I decided that I was going to take my cat Sophie fishing with me.  Whether she wanted to go with me or not (and she didn't), I did not care.  Finding anyone else to go with me that particular day had proved impossible, and I wanted company.  Plus I had this romantic vision of future summer days, with Sophie trotting along my side as we made the trek down the railroad and through the bushes to my favorite fishing spot.  She was going to be better than ANY dog, because she was the one pet of our family that only belonged to me.  I just had to be persuasive and show her how great it could be. We were going to break through all of the stereotypes of how "cats hate water" and "cats follow no man (or girl)".

There was no way she was just going to follow me that day (first try and all), so I decided a leash was probably my best bet.  Unfortunately, carrying my fishing pole and gear while dragging my cat by the neck proved to be somewhat difficult.  Sophie responded not at all to my coaching and encouragement.  Eventually, she stopped pulling away from the leash, and instead let herself be drug like dead weight.  My "compassion" and frustration finally kicked in about two blocks away from my house.  Picking her up, I awkwardly held the still docile (probably oxygen deprived) cat under one arm, while trying to hold on to my fishing pole and tackle box with the other hand.

Our house was about seven (?) blocks from the dirt road that eventually led to the place where I cut across to the railroad tracks where I would normally do a tight rope walk across a railroad beam for about a half mile before bush whacking my way down to the edge of the first pond.  I would then bypass the first three ponds to the very end pond where all of the best perch and sunfish were.  I would then walk the whole length of that pond to the very end, where the BEST best fish were.  What I am trying to express here is that it was no small jaunt to my favorite fishing spot, even in the best of circumstances.

Another one of my personality "trademarks" often commented on as a child was my stubbornness (other variations I often heard:  tenacious, willful, strong willed, pig headed).  This particular trait added to the stupid circumstances (limp cat + fishing pole + tackle + epic journey to fishing pond) was nearly the death of me this day.  By the time I made it to my destination, I was sweaty and mad and in no mood for fishing for anything.  The troubles of my trek had begun to make me doubt my original vision of  Sophie as the perfect fishing companion, so I was disillusioned and a little depressed.

The sun was hot that day.  I remember laying down along the edge of the water, letting my feet soak in it's coolness while I lightly pinned Sophie to the ground with one hand so she wouldn't be tempted to escape.  My recovery time in those days was quick.  I had only been laying there for around five minutes, when I started to hear the sounds of the pond over my own heavy breathing.  Realizing that some of the sounds were very close to me, I forced myself to breathe softer and quieter.  Slowly lifting myself to my elbows, I carefully scanned the water directly in front of my soaking feet.

Predatory excitement quickly filled me.  Not even four feet in front of me perched about four little frogs, croaking without a care in the world.  Visions of catching them filled my head.  Hope also filled my heart because perhaps these frogs, once presented to Sophie as a plaything to share (I realize my treatment of animals in this story is one step shy of sociopathic), would finally make her understand my dream of a girl and her cat playing by the pond all summer.

Sophie- The Non-Avid Fishercat

There was a dilemma, however.  If I released Sophie so I could actually go into the pond to catch the frogs, she was sure to dash off and miss the awesome bonding opportunity that the frogs presented.  The only answer I could come up with (other than trying to find a tree to tie her to, and there weren't any close enough) was to carry her with me into the pond and try to catch a frog one handed.  This seemed like a legitimate idea to me because a) I was a REALLY good frog catcher with a lot of experience and b) up to this point, Sophie had been extremely compliant and docile.

Gathering her back under my arm, I took a very slow cautious step into the pond, not wanting to scare the frogs.  They stayed right where they were, filling me with the confidence that this could be done.  The rocks under my feet were slimy, but if I curled my toes around their sharp edges just right, I could move along fine.  Slowly I picked my foot up for my next super quiet covert step.  THAT was the unfortunate moment Sophie seemed to snap into full awareness.

It was the perfect storm.  Under my arm, the cat who had been so inert suddenly burst into a panicked hurricane of claws and teeth.  This sudden attack/distraction made my careful toe gripping falter.  As soon as my toes lost their grip on the edge of the rocks, I began to slide backwards.  I'm sure it happened in the blink of an eye, but the moment felt much longer as my arms flailed around wildly, trying to keep the inevitable from happening.

The first casualty was Sophie.  The moment she hit the water, I'm sure that all of her suspicions were cemented that my 'girl + cat +fishing together during summer' plans were in fact a terrible idea.  The next casualty was my foot.

As I crawled out of the pond completely drenched (Sophie had got out of there in mere milliseconds, and was no where to be seen already),  I lay down at the edge before taking stock of any damages.  Since my foot felt a little funny, I sat up to look at it, but at the sight of the thick red stream running down the side I had to lay down again.  I laid there for awhile, waiting for the black spots and dizziness  to recede (the sight of my own blood had me panicked).  When I felt I could handle it, I sat up and looked closer at the injury.  Gingerly I bent over to see how bad the damages were, and as I brushed away the blood and pulled against the cuts (there were two), they spread wide open.

Black and red spots again filled my vision.  After taking some time to insure I wouldn't pass out, I got up and hobbled to whole journey back home again, only this time unencumbered by either cat (who eventually made it home all by herself), or fishing pole/tackle (I was FAR too injured to carry anything, at least in my own mind I was).

About a block from my house, I looked back and saw the small trail of blood from my foot peppering the streets of Paradise.  It occurred to me that this was a very dramatic situation.  I hadn't felt much pain up to this point, but the constant hopping on my good foot during the journey home was really starting to emphasize a throbbing pain in "the injury".  I began to imagine the shock on my mother's face as I limped through our door; her fallen daughter who had lost so much blood.  The whole thing started to make me feel weepy.

By the time I actually walked through the door for real, I had streams of panicked tears running down my face.  Mom was in the living room watching TV, so instead of hearing me open the door and and then running to me in a wave of motherly worry (as envisioned),  I had to alert her to my emergency with a panicky "I'M DYING" voice that was sure to get the appropriate response for the seriousness of the situation.  Before the shrill "MOOOOOOOOM" had finished leaving my mouth, she was was already in front of me with a very satisfying took of terror on her face, chanting "WHAT'S WRONG?"  over and over.  It was a very dramatic moment for me.

Finally a look of clarity came over her face (I had been her daughter a long time, and this wasn't the first occurrence of a freak out from me).  She stepped back and took in my wet/smelly, dirty appearance, and then noticed the red stream leaking out of my foot onto her kitchen floor (mixed with dirt, with several blood/dirt foot prints already stamped around me from the times I had forgot to hold my injured foot up to avoid the extreme pain that was sure to follow touching it to the ground.  As I openly wept, I began to hear my mom's then calm voice telling me things like "calm down Rachel", and "You'll be alright, it's just a little cut".  This wasn't my mom's first rodeo.  I was her kid number five; she'd had plenty of moments just like this.

I soon found myself in the back seat of our Dodge Aries with a towel wrapped around my bloody appendage, en route to the emergency room at our local hospital.  Long story short, I had to get about thirteen stitches that day (which, if memory serves me, I took very nobly and without crying).  The wounds actually healed up very quickly, but to this day I still have two straight little scars running down the side of my right foot.

And that is the story of how I caused my second set of scars.

Gorgeous Woes

This morning before I left for work, I was full of scathing and semi-witty thoughts about the general state of being buried alive with all the snow we've been getting this February.  I should have wrote this blog at that point.

I was mad.  Mad about snow.  Mad that my house doesn't magically clean itself every day.  Mad that I had to wear pants instead of getting to hang out in my pajamas all day.

The only way to fix all of my woes would have been to:

• Have had a visit from a future me who now knows the secret of time travel, and who has decided to have mercy on this past version of herself by pulling me forward in time by about four months (I choose late May or early June, if you are reading this, Future Version of Me with time travel capabilities).
• Act out on my impulse to buy a ticket to Hawaii, throwing caution to the wind about any ramifications this would create.
• Find a housekeeper willing to work for hugs and the love of doing my laundry and housecleaning.
• Find a new society that despises the wearing of pants as much as I did this morning (and I wasn't feeling any happier about possibly wearing a skirt or dress).
• Wear stretchy pajama pants to work, whatever the consequences may be.

None of these things happened, sadly.

What DID happen, is I put the danged pants on, got in my car (leaving my messy house behind), and drove out on the snowy roads.  It quickly became apparent to me that although I still hate all of this crappy white stuff and the fact that we are in my LEAST favorite month of the year, it is still incredibly gorgeous out there.

In terms of beauty, today is every bit as beautiful as a day in mid-June.  I was fighting the same urge to pull over every ten seconds to take pictures (didn't bring my big cam though, just my phone, per usual), but couldn't really do much with that impulse as I didn't want to either a) park in the middle of the road to take the pic, as the sides are nothing but giant berms at the moment, and then b) get rammed by anyone coming up behind me who is unable to stop, or c) brave some of the more shallow side areas for parking, but then get stuck.

Anyways, by the time I made it to work, my bad mood was pretty much gone.  No witty burns on either snow or the month of February.

SO, I did take a couple pictures of the snow, and also a few pics of some of the projects I'm working on to help pull me through this month.

Down our street.

On the way to work.

I've pulled out all of my jewelry making supplies.  I'm loving the whole coral, turquoise, copper combo at the moment.

Dad gave me this guitar last time I was down to visit him.  It's old and very damaged- perfect for doing a guitar mosaic.  Going to start this project soon (hopefully this week).