Jackson

It became a habit that started by chance.

As was our tradition, we were seeing an 'Arnie' movie, one of the many Arnold Schwarzenegger thin-storyline-but-lotsa-muscles adventures that we'd become accustom to seeing together. Between my arriving late to his house to pick him up, and his step-mom's fussing and slow travel due to snow, we got a late start to the show. When we arrived at the theater at the last possible moment, we managed to find the last possible parking space in a vast wasteland of asphalt.

Everything was off that evening; energy levels, conversation and timing. Finding this last spot and parking by the sad pine tree that was so reminiscent of the Christmas Tree from 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' it was the virtual cherry on top of the series of mishaps that we'd experienced thus far.

So we laughed. The movie was pretty typical - I think it was the 'Running Man' - and the story was painfully appropriate for the miss-mash of our moods. Neither Jackson nor I were in the sort of light hearted spirit needed for conversation and the drive home was as silent as the one there.

In the years following that night, whenever a new Arnie movie came out, we'd meet up, head to the same theater and park beneath the sparse boughs of THE tree, which I'd christened as Tom along the way.

As the decades have passed, our lives have moved in different directions. Each of us has married and we have our own little families. On rare occasions our paths cross, but never for very long. Most of our conversations center around what we've been up to since we last met, but sometimes on the rare occasion we delve into deeper topics, but my overly inquisitive nature and peppering of questions often drives him away until we meet again.

Neither of us lives in the town we grew up in, and our homes now lie in different parts of the country. Even now though out of habit, after my long drive to work I consistently park in a vast lot in front of a sparse and sad looking ash. And as I do, I can't help but remember that lonely little pine from my teens that has now grown to a massive Douglas Fir (or so it seemed the last time I went home.)

To you my friend Jackson, on this day I wish you a Happy Birthday and thank you for your friendship. I hope that the next time we meet up it will be a long and happy conversation.  Until then, I wish you many viewings of bad Arnie movies and good fortune along the way.

~ Amy

My Life is a Zoo, Part IV

It wasn't the 6 additional girls and one boy who were over for a birthday sleep over that led to the excitement.  No, that was left to the sparrow that flew into the house via the open deck doors and then proceeded to tour the house in what had to be one heck of an amusement ride.

Birds have inadvertently flown into the glass deck doors, seeing the mirrored image of the clouds and blue skies behind them and mistaking the glass for open air.

We've also had 'gifts' proudly presented in such places as our bed or near the dinner table by two very eager and proud cats. But we've never been sitting at the table casually conversing while the other zoo, the kid zoo, was firmly underway only to have the level of chaos reach a frantic level as when a lone sparrow zipped over our heads and began flying about the room as though he was in an exercise wheel.

Thankfully, our vaulted ceilings provided an area that was safely out of reach of the screeching children, and eventually the bird made it's way to JB's room.

Quietly closing the door after slipping inside, I found the bird perched for dear life on a loose section of the wallpaper boarder near the ceiling.

Spotting me, the bird flitted about the small space, and eventually flew into the mirrored closet doors. (As a side note, every sliding closet door in the house is mirrored. When we first moved into the house, we joked that the previous owners must have been into filming porn or another form of self expression.)

Momentarily stunned from its run-in, the small bird was scooped up in a cardboard gift box and gently carried out to the deck where it could recoup and hopefully fly off. Which it did, eventually flying off into the nearby cottonwood. Later we saw him eating at the bird feeder, and the kids cheered that the little guy made it.

"Mama.  It's certain now. We live in a zoo. Even that poor bird thought it was home."

"Indeed, BW. Indeed."

Masters with Money

Overheard while undergoing a 'Clean and Clear' Saturday.

"Mama!!"

"What?"

"I NEED YOUR HELP CLEANING MY ROOM!"

"Um, I have the rest of the house to take care of... And I helped you with it two weeks ago.  Pick a corner of your room, start there and work your way around."

"But... But... MA-MAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

"JB! I'll help you if you pay me fifty cents."

"Ok!  I have thirty five cents! Thank you!"

"OK! It's a deal. And! I can make change for you!"

And off they ran to tackle the pit that evolved over the course of the last three weeks.  Monies were exchanged and all was peaceful.  Except for Charles and I who were shaking our heads in steadfast 'Uncle'.

Yes, both identified as math wizards at school, 'geniuses' at counting money.

*sigh*

While My Garden Sleeps

A surprise spring snow has come to River City burying us in nearly 18 inches of white stuffs, and it's moments like these that I realize that even though I am ready for my little growing space to wake up, Mother Nature has a very different idea at the moment.

Shockingly this spring my schedule, the gardening bug and my energy level all peaked at the same time this spring and I've successfully started and recently transplanted what I hope to be this years crop of Tomatoes, peppers, eggplants.

Pumpkins, melons, spaghetti squash, cucumbers and the obligatory zucchini have all been planted in their little seed trays, and hopefully sprouts that give rise to ropes of vines laden with fruit will soon be seen.

As mentioned in last years post on garden planning it is while it is bitterly cold outside and the wind howls loud and long that it is time to clean and sharpen tools if that work wasn't done with Autumn's fall, to inventory and pull seeds for the year's planting and replenish supplies depleted from last season's efforts.

This spring has been a wildly warm one with more days in the 60+ temperatures than those at or near freezing. Snow and other forms of precipitation have been noticeably absent this season, and water restrictions for this spring and summer have been announced.

With such a warm spring already in place, it is so terribly challenging to resist the urge to dig into the soil and smell it's freshness and feel the dirt beneath my nails as the sun burns my skin. It's at those moments when my 'Toad list' reminds me of all I've left to do before I can play in the dirt.

Even though it can be a challenge to write down and note all the "shoulda's, woulda's and coulda's" that have been come up during the previous years growing season, and during conversations around 'oh! wouldn't it be nice if...' are cataloged and later drawn upon when the overwhelming urge to dig in too soon strikes.

As I learned from a professor many years ago as a student of horticulture, you don't want to work the soil too soon, because it is a delicate eco-system and when you are too eager you can cause so much damage that it will take years for the soil and beneficial microbes to recover and become the source of life you were so eager to create.


Nearly every successful farmer and gardener knows this, but it can be so challenging to keep it in mind when the Chinook winds blow through, the sun is bright and high in the sky and the spring flowers are bursting with color.

Today I am thankful for the snow. Not only for the greatly needed moisture that it provides, but also for the 'pause' it puts into place creating a moment to relax, look at the beauty and appreciate the silence that comes with it as the inches begin to accumulate.

Soon enough spring will truly be here and the free moments in these longer days will vanish with the snow. I will busily transplant happy seedlings into their spot in the garden, or other niches around the house and watch as they grow and mature, offering their gifts by way of fruits and vegetables and other yummy treats.

But until then, I am enjoying this moment, looking out over the blizzard that has formed and enjoying a cup of coffee before having to tend to chores that never seem to end when there are children in the house.

I am truly blessed.

Study Habits

Every now and again I stumble upon a picture that I've taken along the way that so aptly demonstrates the insanity that sometimes rules the house.

One such picture is this. 

Captured on a hellish weeknight while slogging our way through homework, we finally gave up on how studying for spelling 'should be done' and let the boy go about it on his own terms. 

*Sigh* If you notice, the only thing in the picture that is fuzzy is the feet. That's because they were actively waving about, as the child called out each word, letter by letter. 

Considered by Charles and I to be one of the more ridiculous study sessions we've had thus far in BW's short academic career, we all managed to escape without too many bumps or bruises and it seemed to work, for the boy at least.  He scored a 95% on his spelling test.

The Winding Road

It has been a long trek. One filled with endless hours of studying, countless words strung together, and reams of paper hole punched and hauled about from one class to another.

Recently I received a little book in the mail from an unexpected source and within it's pages I found the following quote to be eerily applicable to the journey I've undertaken as I attempt to move into a field so far removed from that which I trained when I was younger.

"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned

so as to have the life that is waiting for us."

- E.M. Forester, British writer (1879-1970)

My quest to move into the field of medicine has been in effect since the Spring of 2010. After many sleepless nights trying to figure out what to do with my life, how to best use my talents and develop my interests I came to the conclusion that the people I was happiest around and enjoyed socializing with were nurses and doctors. So I began to investigate how to become one of them.

After looking into and determining that the best option for myself and my little family was to register for and attend a nearby community college and ultimately acquire an RN.

During a routine checkup with my doctor, (who after so many years, was also a friend) I mentioned to her that after many months of reflection and soul searching that I'd made my decision as to my future career path. I shared that I was going to work towards an RN and hopefully become a valued member of the field. And we began talking about the details and timeline for this goal.

As she was about to leave, she paused with her hand on the opened door, and as she turned she closed it and said. "Amy, I cannot in good conscious leave this room without letting you know that I think that you would make a good nurse but a great doctor. As a nurse you would be fired a lot because you have too inquisitive a mind, and you don't hesitate to challenge others when you think they are wrong and no doctor that I know would be welcoming of that."

Over the next twenty or so minutes (which is precious time for a doctor) she laid out how it was possible for me to attend medical school, pass my boards and begin practicing as an MD. She steadfastly dismissed each of the reasons that I had as to why her suggestion of medical school was not only outlandish, but impossible.

At dinner I mentioned the conversation to Charles, and after some thought, he set his fork down and stated in a matter of fact voice that our friend and health provider Lyn was absolutely correct.

And so began the 'scenic route' that Charles calls the last few years.

I have jumped through hoops, challenged the unquestionable, accomplished what many doubted and gotten up when beaten down. And I've done it for three years.

But today I am tired. And it's hard not to think of all the time, events and experiences that I've missed with my family without an obvious reward to make it all seem worthwhile.

Twice I've submitted applications; twice I've received an impersonal email rejection. It does not matter how eloquent I write my essays, or the quality of the recommendations I assemble or the timeliness in which I submit my application. I have come to the stark realization that even though I have the talent, the interest the endurance and the intellect to become an awesome practitioner of medicine, it is likely that I will never be given the opportunity to do so. But again, I will submit an application over the summer, hopeful that one of the programs I seek to attend will grant me entry.

I'm trying hard to not let the frustration and disappointment turn into bitterness, and on some day's I'm more successful than others. After surviving CNA boot camp over Christmas break, and with great prospects of getting a job at one of the 'nicer' long-term care facilities, I have still not turned in my application for work. The idea that I shot for the moon and landed in... a black hole is just too much at the moment.

I currently have a stimulating job that is just the right level of stress and that I find is intellectually challenging on a regular basis. I've met wonderful people, and developed lasting relationships. I've learned more about myself than the subjects I've covered or the people I've worked with.

I wonder though, how long the social element will let me continue in my position as a captioner. I suspect that at some point I will be wholly rejected by the students that I work with due to my greying hair, sagging skin and warbling voice, not to mention my slowing reflexes when it comes to word processing.

So I wonder what the future has in store for me. At this moment the fire in my belly is but embers, ready to take off and burn hot and strong, or conversely, extinguish.

As one of my favorite fortune cookie sayings goes "fall will see your worries slip away."  I know that time will tell, and that fall might just see my worries slip away, but I sure wish that it would do it sooner rather than later.

My soul has sure taken a beating.

My life is a Zoo Part III

Squirt is losing her mind.

Since posting of our last adventures with Ricky and friends, our girl has convinced herself that there is "SOMETHING" living in our fireplace.

Yes friends. A creature of seemingly ill repute is living in our fireplace. But only Squirt is able to detect it, and she has taken to 'guarding' us from the fireplace.

But we aren't entirely sure what she is guarding us from. She was so convinced that something was in there, that she had me going.

Charles and I pulled out the damping material from the insert, got a hoe and dug about the fake 'logs' in there just in case there was anything taking up roost.  There wasn't a single thing. Rodent traps, bird traps and the motion-activated cameras have caught nothing to date.

Unfortunately, while I was digging around in the fireplace, Squirt stuck her head in, sniffed about and let out a series of fierce 'warning barks' only to have them echo back at her and scaring her pee-less and further convincing her that 'It' is in there.

Until the raccoons moved into a neighbors yard last fall, we had never heard her bark (yes, 9 years without a single bark!) ... and now she is fully exploring her new-found voice, leaving me on edge.

I'll be working quietly along on a transcript for Kait and BAM! This giant black streak bursts into the office, and lets 'It' have it. Exhibit 27 is attached.  The Great Defender in action.

Seriously, who needs coffee when random barks of don't-mess-with-me-I've-people-to-protect heart stopper like Squirt's can keep me going?

And here I thought the boy was going to do me in before my time.