Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
How to Make a Cake...Or Not
During our trip to Oregon my cousin and I were talking about my love for cooking. She eagerly told me of a recipe book she had discovered. She had not tasted one bad recipe yet. We talked about her husband's particular, maybe slightly exotic tastes. We laughed at her brother who said he was happy with beans and sour cream -- that would never go over well with either of our husbands.
This past week I received a package from my cousin with the recipe book she had been raving about. It was full of healthy recipes, and nutrition tips, but at the end the authors had included one "triple-layer, triple-decadent, Died-and-gone-to-Heaven Chocolate Layer Cake" Of course I wanted to try it. (And it was my mom's birthday, so it was the perfect excuse.)
I tasted a crumb of the cake fresh and hot from the oven. It was awesome! It was so moist and chocolaty! Then i don't know if i left it out too long to cool, but it became drier and tasted like normal chocolate cake when i served it.
But the problems started long before serving time.
It was one of those days when I had a hard time getting motivated in the morning, so it was almost 2pm when I started getting lunch out. I still had to go shopping for the ingredients for the cake and my mom was coming between 5 and 5:30pm. I was running out of time. I decided to leave the boys in charge of lunch and went shopping. (Eric was in his office in the basement working.)
When I returned, I cautiously stepped into my kitchen. This was not the kitchen I left. Everyone did get some food, so I guess I should be happy about that. Caden was still in his high chair, still eating. They had given him a bowl and let him feed himself -- BBQ chicken and rice casserole. He had food and red sauce all over him, the tray, the chair and the floor. The dishes and food were still out on the stove and on the counter, but there was no time to clean -- we had to bake the cake!
I set my shopping bags full of ingredients down on the table and started giving instructions.
Zac started mixing the dry ingredients, which he managed to spill on the counter and down the front of my right pant leg. Micah started mixing the wet ingredients. We did get all the egg shells out. Shiloh started stirring the melting chocolate, which he spilled on the burner. Caden was still eating in the middle of the kitchen while we worked around him. Occasionally I spooned some more casserole into his bowl. I think he ate most of the afternoon. He was happy and we kept working.
Finally the cakes were in the oven. Time to begin the frosting. It had everything you might put in frosting that's delicious and bad for you in it -- butter, cream cheese, whipping cream, chocolate -- Yum.
Zac was mixing the butter and cream cheese when the bowl went spinning and crashing to the floor. Luckily most of the cheese mixture stuck to the bowl, which, of course, landed upside down. Caden decided to throw his bowl on the floor also. It broke into pieces. Food and ceramic splattered across the kitchen.
The boys began licking bowls while I whipped the frosting and then added it to the cream cheese mixture. As you can imagine they became covered with chocolate, but do they wash? Of course not. While I was busy mixing the frosting, they were busy climbing on our ledge between the kitchen and living room and jumping onto the couch. They grabbed the beam at the ceiling to steady themselves before they jumped and left little chocolate fingermarks up there too. More mess, no time to clean.
I finished the frosting, and put it into the fridge to chill. Caden was still eating, or maybe just playing with his food by this time.
Unfortuately my mom was coming VERY soon now, and I had to start assembling the cake or I wouldn't finish before she arrived. I took the frosting out of the fridge, but it wasn't stiff enough. Now this is sad. I added powdered sugar to make it stiffer so I could create the cake. It was still good, but not so amazing. The cake though, was beautiful! I used raspberries, slivered almonds, coconut and some ivy to garnish it. It looked great.
I thought about if someone showed up at our door right then. That thought was very humorous. You would think it would be embarrassing, but the kitchen was beyond embarrassment! It was so unbelievable, it was comical. The counters were covered with bowls, utensils, eggs shells, wrappers, chocolate, and cream cheese mess. Caden was still in his high chair, with food smeared and squished and splattered around him. The unused groceries still sat on the benches. Chocolate was on the ceiling, the wall, the floor where Zac spilled earlier. Then there was me -- my pants were dirty from Zac's accident earlier, but now my shirt was splattered too. It was so unbelievable you had to laugh.
I called my sister and asked her -- please STALL our mom!
Caden went to the bathtub and we tackled the kitchen. Eric came up to help too. I try to leave him undisturbed because even though he is home, he is working; but as desperation started to settle in, we called for help.
My mom was late and surprisingly we got the kitchen and myself cleaned.
Needless to say, I might have to try the cake again.
This past week I received a package from my cousin with the recipe book she had been raving about. It was full of healthy recipes, and nutrition tips, but at the end the authors had included one "triple-layer, triple-decadent, Died-and-gone-to-Heaven Chocolate Layer Cake" Of course I wanted to try it. (And it was my mom's birthday, so it was the perfect excuse.)
I tasted a crumb of the cake fresh and hot from the oven. It was awesome! It was so moist and chocolaty! Then i don't know if i left it out too long to cool, but it became drier and tasted like normal chocolate cake when i served it.
But the problems started long before serving time.
It was one of those days when I had a hard time getting motivated in the morning, so it was almost 2pm when I started getting lunch out. I still had to go shopping for the ingredients for the cake and my mom was coming between 5 and 5:30pm. I was running out of time. I decided to leave the boys in charge of lunch and went shopping. (Eric was in his office in the basement working.)
When I returned, I cautiously stepped into my kitchen. This was not the kitchen I left. Everyone did get some food, so I guess I should be happy about that. Caden was still in his high chair, still eating. They had given him a bowl and let him feed himself -- BBQ chicken and rice casserole. He had food and red sauce all over him, the tray, the chair and the floor. The dishes and food were still out on the stove and on the counter, but there was no time to clean -- we had to bake the cake!
I set my shopping bags full of ingredients down on the table and started giving instructions.
Zac started mixing the dry ingredients, which he managed to spill on the counter and down the front of my right pant leg. Micah started mixing the wet ingredients. We did get all the egg shells out. Shiloh started stirring the melting chocolate, which he spilled on the burner. Caden was still eating in the middle of the kitchen while we worked around him. Occasionally I spooned some more casserole into his bowl. I think he ate most of the afternoon. He was happy and we kept working.
Finally the cakes were in the oven. Time to begin the frosting. It had everything you might put in frosting that's delicious and bad for you in it -- butter, cream cheese, whipping cream, chocolate -- Yum.
Zac was mixing the butter and cream cheese when the bowl went spinning and crashing to the floor. Luckily most of the cheese mixture stuck to the bowl, which, of course, landed upside down. Caden decided to throw his bowl on the floor also. It broke into pieces. Food and ceramic splattered across the kitchen.
The boys began licking bowls while I whipped the frosting and then added it to the cream cheese mixture. As you can imagine they became covered with chocolate, but do they wash? Of course not. While I was busy mixing the frosting, they were busy climbing on our ledge between the kitchen and living room and jumping onto the couch. They grabbed the beam at the ceiling to steady themselves before they jumped and left little chocolate fingermarks up there too. More mess, no time to clean.
I finished the frosting, and put it into the fridge to chill. Caden was still eating, or maybe just playing with his food by this time.
Unfortuately my mom was coming VERY soon now, and I had to start assembling the cake or I wouldn't finish before she arrived. I took the frosting out of the fridge, but it wasn't stiff enough. Now this is sad. I added powdered sugar to make it stiffer so I could create the cake. It was still good, but not so amazing. The cake though, was beautiful! I used raspberries, slivered almonds, coconut and some ivy to garnish it. It looked great.
I thought about if someone showed up at our door right then. That thought was very humorous. You would think it would be embarrassing, but the kitchen was beyond embarrassment! It was so unbelievable, it was comical. The counters were covered with bowls, utensils, eggs shells, wrappers, chocolate, and cream cheese mess. Caden was still in his high chair, with food smeared and squished and splattered around him. The unused groceries still sat on the benches. Chocolate was on the ceiling, the wall, the floor where Zac spilled earlier. Then there was me -- my pants were dirty from Zac's accident earlier, but now my shirt was splattered too. It was so unbelievable you had to laugh.
I called my sister and asked her -- please STALL our mom!
Caden went to the bathtub and we tackled the kitchen. Eric came up to help too. I try to leave him undisturbed because even though he is home, he is working; but as desperation started to settle in, we called for help.
My mom was late and surprisingly we got the kitchen and myself cleaned.
Needless to say, I might have to try the cake again.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Egg or the Chicken
I have wondered which came first -- the actual tax or the definition. Did people realize that tax meant "to lay a burden on; make serious demands on" but had no idea that tax would also be money given to the government? They would say, "I taxed my wagon yesterday. I thought it might break on the way into town, but we made it." But they wouldn't say, "I paid my taxes." Maybe they called it tribute. Then eventually people began to see tribute as such a burden, they began to call it a "tax" as they had taxed their wagon or oxen.
Or was it the other way around? Tax was always the money given to a government and someone said, "Hey, your donkey pulling that cart looks like I feel when I pay my taxes, why do you 'tax' him so much?" They realized they just came up with a new way to use the word "tax" and thought themselves very witty.
Just this morning I was reading about when Jesus says to give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's. Does Caesar think he owns it all? I suppose his picture is on it all. Is Jesus saying that we shouldn't be bothered by taxes? Or that he really doesn't need money to accomplish His work or provide for His children? Or was that just His answer to men who were trying to trap Him?
God does talk often of injustice and robbing the poor. Some would argue that taxes aren't robbing or injustice.
I am reminded of an old movie of Robin Hood that my mom owned. The sheriff comes to take more taxes and the conversation goes something like this.
"I don't have the tax," the farmer says.
"Sell your chickens!" answers the tax collector.
The farmer replies, "I sold my chickens to pay for the feather tax. I sold my
eggs to pay for the barn tax. I sold my barn to pay for the house tax. I sold my
furniture to pay for the property tax. I have nothing left."
"To jail then!" responds the tax collector.
I find it humorous that the Pharisees complained that Jesus was a friend of "tax collectors and sinners", or that if a brother refuses to be reconciled he becomes like a "heathen or a tax collector". I guess people have never liked taxes.
All that said, Jesus did receive a humble tax collectors' prayer instead of a prideful Pharisee, a religious leader. He was a friend to tax collectors. He called them for service, and ate at their homes.
Pray for our government.
Or was it the other way around? Tax was always the money given to a government and someone said, "Hey, your donkey pulling that cart looks like I feel when I pay my taxes, why do you 'tax' him so much?" They realized they just came up with a new way to use the word "tax" and thought themselves very witty.
Just this morning I was reading about when Jesus says to give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's. Does Caesar think he owns it all? I suppose his picture is on it all. Is Jesus saying that we shouldn't be bothered by taxes? Or that he really doesn't need money to accomplish His work or provide for His children? Or was that just His answer to men who were trying to trap Him?
God does talk often of injustice and robbing the poor. Some would argue that taxes aren't robbing or injustice.
I am reminded of an old movie of Robin Hood that my mom owned. The sheriff comes to take more taxes and the conversation goes something like this.
"I don't have the tax," the farmer says.
"Sell your chickens!" answers the tax collector.
The farmer replies, "I sold my chickens to pay for the feather tax. I sold my
eggs to pay for the barn tax. I sold my barn to pay for the house tax. I sold my
furniture to pay for the property tax. I have nothing left."
"To jail then!" responds the tax collector.
I find it humorous that the Pharisees complained that Jesus was a friend of "tax collectors and sinners", or that if a brother refuses to be reconciled he becomes like a "heathen or a tax collector". I guess people have never liked taxes.
All that said, Jesus did receive a humble tax collectors' prayer instead of a prideful Pharisee, a religious leader. He was a friend to tax collectors. He called them for service, and ate at their homes.
Pray for our government.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Corn Picking
Today I went with my sister-in-law to pick corn in a field belonging to her family's friend. The owner came out to the field and kept expressing his desire to share, for us to take as much as we possibly wanted. I felt like Ruth. I imagined Boaz coming out to the field as the benevolent master of the field. Of course I am not Ruth, because although I also was blessed by this man's kindness, I will not be coming to the threshing floor! Oh, and Ruth's face probably didn't swell like a balloon. I am having an allergic reaction, my eyes are disappearing as my face expands around them. We did get a lot of corn, so it was worth it.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Happy Anniversary
August 21, 2009 -- Today marks one of the best days of my life.
Happy Anniversary to us!
Happy Anniversary to us!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Money and Miracles
"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination."
-- Oscar Wilde, Irish dramatist and novelist
I do not agree with this, I just thought it was funny. Although if anyone couldn't think of more ways to spend money (even if they didn't actually spend the money), I would probably think they suffered from a lack of imagination.
I was reading through various blogs with monthly financial goals. It was a little disappointing, because I have goals that I feel like I cannot reach.
But I suppose I can get so caught up on my goals that I miss the daily miracle.
We pay our bills another month. We eat another day. Where does the money come from? It's kind of a mystery.
I think God taught me a couple things about money while we owned the tree service.
First, I really think God will provide. And it usually is never when you want it. Maybe this is just for me, but it seems like God likes to stretch me to the point of breaking before he actually gives relief.
Second, things seem worse the first time -- then you get use to them and can handle them without fear, knowing it will work out. When the government first levies your account it's shocking. You hurriedly call the bank, trying to deal with all the checks you have written on the thousands that were just taken. The next time you are prepared. At first when you receive threatening letters from the IRS you are a little unnerved. Later, you realize there's really nothing you have that they even want. But more than that, you realize that there is nothing they can do, or take that will rob you of what is most important. Life is adventure and God holds us each step of the way. He will provide. He will never leave.
Third, never say you have no money. It's just not true. (Although I do agree it is definitely more true for some than others!) I have heard this often. I have heard it from people that then bought a brand new bed for hundreds of dollars. I have heard it from people that then bought airline tickets for Hawaii. I hear it from people that cannot give. Money is a matter of priorities. Someone may take their family on a two week vacation. It doesn't necessarily mean they have more money, just that that was a high priority for them. Money is also a matter of perspective. Someone that is use to making $80K will have no money making $50K. (which would sound like a lot to someone else). Personally, I think most of us are incredibly rich in America.
I was talking with a friend about my desire to give more money to the poor, and she mentioned that must be her. (That giving to the poor for her meant giving to her family.) Maybe she has a point, but I still think the poorest of us here have a lot more than the poor in other countries.
Fourth... (will I ever stop)... always do what needs to be done for others regardless of the cost. It's easy to look at what we have left in our meager bank accounts, and think logically we should not give. And that is probably right. But God is not logical! Well, His kingdom is different than this world. I think if it's something that you think God wants you to do or give towards, He will add more to your bank account later when you need it. We have seen this many times.
I am reminded of my Grandpa. He lived so cheaply because he and his wife wanted to give all they could to missions. Some think they are crazy. But I wonder what his treasure in Heaven will be like. It's fascinating to me to listen to his stories of how God provided. Looking back it's easy to see how God was providing. It's hard when you are going through it. If we could only remember that God's already looking back.
This is long, but I'll end with one story.
Sometimes you wonder if God has forgotten you. A couple weeks ago we were again reminded that he remembers.
A friend of ours had a dream that he should give us some money. This was someone we hardly ever talk to or even see. He woke up and remembered the dream, but thought it was only a dream and decided to forget it. All through the day he kept thinking about that dream. It kept coming to mind. Finally he started to wonder if God really was talking to him, and he wrote the check and mailed it.
We received the check during a very bleak time. Everything we tried seemed to fail. We couldn't seem to hear God leading one way or the other. Dead end after dead end. We wondered if we had been left to flounder with no direction. God was so silent. That check was like His voice shouting to us. Yes, the money was extremely helpful. (It was even the amount that I had been thinking earlier that we needed.) But more than that it was God saying, I am still here. I will never forget you. See I placed you in someone else's dream because I will always take care of you. I will guide you. You are not alone. Trust me.
-- Oscar Wilde, Irish dramatist and novelist
I do not agree with this, I just thought it was funny. Although if anyone couldn't think of more ways to spend money (even if they didn't actually spend the money), I would probably think they suffered from a lack of imagination.
I was reading through various blogs with monthly financial goals. It was a little disappointing, because I have goals that I feel like I cannot reach.
But I suppose I can get so caught up on my goals that I miss the daily miracle.
We pay our bills another month. We eat another day. Where does the money come from? It's kind of a mystery.
I think God taught me a couple things about money while we owned the tree service.
First, I really think God will provide. And it usually is never when you want it. Maybe this is just for me, but it seems like God likes to stretch me to the point of breaking before he actually gives relief.
Second, things seem worse the first time -- then you get use to them and can handle them without fear, knowing it will work out. When the government first levies your account it's shocking. You hurriedly call the bank, trying to deal with all the checks you have written on the thousands that were just taken. The next time you are prepared. At first when you receive threatening letters from the IRS you are a little unnerved. Later, you realize there's really nothing you have that they even want. But more than that, you realize that there is nothing they can do, or take that will rob you of what is most important. Life is adventure and God holds us each step of the way. He will provide. He will never leave.
Third, never say you have no money. It's just not true. (Although I do agree it is definitely more true for some than others!) I have heard this often. I have heard it from people that then bought a brand new bed for hundreds of dollars. I have heard it from people that then bought airline tickets for Hawaii. I hear it from people that cannot give. Money is a matter of priorities. Someone may take their family on a two week vacation. It doesn't necessarily mean they have more money, just that that was a high priority for them. Money is also a matter of perspective. Someone that is use to making $80K will have no money making $50K. (which would sound like a lot to someone else). Personally, I think most of us are incredibly rich in America.
I was talking with a friend about my desire to give more money to the poor, and she mentioned that must be her. (That giving to the poor for her meant giving to her family.) Maybe she has a point, but I still think the poorest of us here have a lot more than the poor in other countries.
Fourth... (will I ever stop)... always do what needs to be done for others regardless of the cost. It's easy to look at what we have left in our meager bank accounts, and think logically we should not give. And that is probably right. But God is not logical! Well, His kingdom is different than this world. I think if it's something that you think God wants you to do or give towards, He will add more to your bank account later when you need it. We have seen this many times.
I am reminded of my Grandpa. He lived so cheaply because he and his wife wanted to give all they could to missions. Some think they are crazy. But I wonder what his treasure in Heaven will be like. It's fascinating to me to listen to his stories of how God provided. Looking back it's easy to see how God was providing. It's hard when you are going through it. If we could only remember that God's already looking back.
This is long, but I'll end with one story.
Sometimes you wonder if God has forgotten you. A couple weeks ago we were again reminded that he remembers.
A friend of ours had a dream that he should give us some money. This was someone we hardly ever talk to or even see. He woke up and remembered the dream, but thought it was only a dream and decided to forget it. All through the day he kept thinking about that dream. It kept coming to mind. Finally he started to wonder if God really was talking to him, and he wrote the check and mailed it.
We received the check during a very bleak time. Everything we tried seemed to fail. We couldn't seem to hear God leading one way or the other. Dead end after dead end. We wondered if we had been left to flounder with no direction. God was so silent. That check was like His voice shouting to us. Yes, the money was extremely helpful. (It was even the amount that I had been thinking earlier that we needed.) But more than that it was God saying, I am still here. I will never forget you. See I placed you in someone else's dream because I will always take care of you. I will guide you. You are not alone. Trust me.
Cleaning Up
I fixed the fence. I didn't want to do it, but now it is done. The broken boards are replaced. The fence is still rather junky, but I'll put a cheap coat of paint on and see if that helps the look of the yard. Paint is less expensive than boards. Really I should take the whole fence down and replace it.
Speaking of junk...I think Eric needs a pole barn. He can keep all his tools, building supplies, projects, experiments in there. Then we will need another pole barn for the boys. They want to save the strangest things. Sometimes when they are not looking I burn their treasures. How could I be so cruel! Good thing the mailman keeps bringing more junk mail. I also try to keep their scraps of boards and strings and spears in their tree fort. They even want to keep the empty Tums bottle and twist-ties and little pieces of paper they cut into squares.
I am obsessive about brushing teeth. Eric says we can't have any more children because I wouldn't have time to brush their teeth. He says it takes an hour to get them ready for bed. I timed it though, it's only about 15 minutes. Then Eric was eating candy tonight. When I told him he should brush, he said the next thing I'll be doing is not allowing food to be eaten. Good idea. No food, no dirty teeth.
Speaking of junk...I think Eric needs a pole barn. He can keep all his tools, building supplies, projects, experiments in there. Then we will need another pole barn for the boys. They want to save the strangest things. Sometimes when they are not looking I burn their treasures. How could I be so cruel! Good thing the mailman keeps bringing more junk mail. I also try to keep their scraps of boards and strings and spears in their tree fort. They even want to keep the empty Tums bottle and twist-ties and little pieces of paper they cut into squares.
I am obsessive about brushing teeth. Eric says we can't have any more children because I wouldn't have time to brush their teeth. He says it takes an hour to get them ready for bed. I timed it though, it's only about 15 minutes. Then Eric was eating candy tonight. When I told him he should brush, he said the next thing I'll be doing is not allowing food to be eaten. Good idea. No food, no dirty teeth.
Monday, August 10, 2009
If We Could Live Without Feelings
As I mentioned earlier, it was actually quite relaxing sitting in the airport. We were able to spend some time talking. I was able finish a book. We played some games. We only had to take care of ourselves. But then enter all these feelings. If I could only live without feelings. The feelings of frustration at the blocked goals. Why can't we just get to Oregon? The same blocked goal leading to despair. Confusion -- Did we do the right thing? Should we have turned down the tickets and decided to drive? Should we keep waiting or just go? I felt like my life was up in the air. Wondering if we should give up, but not able to because there was always that hope that kept being rekindled that maybe we would get on the next flight. We laughed at people we overheard commenting on how bad it was for a flight to be delayed an hour and a half.
Then I kept thinking about little Wyatt, and Fawne, and the grief and pain would come, and again discouragement that I could not get out to Oregon for a dear cousin's son's funeral.
And we kept talking about what we should do. First we would decide to wait, then we would decide to rent a car (our truck was unreliable, originally we were going to borrow my mom's car), then we kept thinking about the cost and the time, and we would decide to wait again, then we would decide to drive home, then we talked about driving home and picking up my mom's car and then leaving again. We were crazy and desperate.
Fawne and Ben buried their son while we sat in the airport on Friday. I sat alone in the restroom and cried. I was so helpless to do anything. The demand for tickets was causing the prices to soar. I felt trapped. I felt that money could solve my problems, and I was so discouraged that something that would be so little to someone else was keeping me from going. That we had almost nothing. I had tried so hard and failed.
As Eric likes to say, "God draws a crooked line." I think he heard that somewhere. We thought the goal was to get from point A to point B. God looks at all the space in-between, crooked space. He presses and asks, "Will you choose to be thankful during this?", "Will you be content with where you are in life?", "Will you see that it is better to have Me than to have money?", "Will you believe I can do the impossible?" Perhaps it meant more to Fawne and Ben that we had such a hard time getting out, that we wouldn't give up because they were that important, because Wyatt's life was important. God knows. He grinds off a few more rough edges.
Then I kept thinking about little Wyatt, and Fawne, and the grief and pain would come, and again discouragement that I could not get out to Oregon for a dear cousin's son's funeral.
And we kept talking about what we should do. First we would decide to wait, then we would decide to rent a car (our truck was unreliable, originally we were going to borrow my mom's car), then we kept thinking about the cost and the time, and we would decide to wait again, then we would decide to drive home, then we talked about driving home and picking up my mom's car and then leaving again. We were crazy and desperate.
Fawne and Ben buried their son while we sat in the airport on Friday. I sat alone in the restroom and cried. I was so helpless to do anything. The demand for tickets was causing the prices to soar. I felt trapped. I felt that money could solve my problems, and I was so discouraged that something that would be so little to someone else was keeping me from going. That we had almost nothing. I had tried so hard and failed.
As Eric likes to say, "God draws a crooked line." I think he heard that somewhere. We thought the goal was to get from point A to point B. God looks at all the space in-between, crooked space. He presses and asks, "Will you choose to be thankful during this?", "Will you be content with where you are in life?", "Will you see that it is better to have Me than to have money?", "Will you believe I can do the impossible?" Perhaps it meant more to Fawne and Ben that we had such a hard time getting out, that we wouldn't give up because they were that important, because Wyatt's life was important. God knows. He grinds off a few more rough edges.
The Airport -- Our Home
The airport did begin to feel like a home to us. While everyone was rushing we were taking our time just hanging out. Plug-ins for laptops were very scarce. But we knew where the best ones were, and if someone was using them, we knew we could out-wait anyone. One of our plug-ins was close to a Chili's, right beside a pillar. The pillar offered some privacy, but there were no chairs at this outlet. We did use this spot for a large portion of the time, because it was available. But as we toured our home more, we discovered the ideal spot. Chairs in the corner, with a whole wall of stations set up for laptops. Close to the drinking fountain, the bathrooms, and for Mel, a Starbucks, of course. I think Mel knew where all the Starbucks were in concourse B and C. Eric was able to stretch out on the floor at our new spot and take a nap without disturbing anyone. Although, I guess he wasn't intimidated to sleep wherever we were sitting.
Eric found an abandoned luggage cart, so now it was much easier moving from gate to gate. We thought if we had to be in the airport another day, maybe we would visit the children's museum.
I started picking up garbage that the people boarding the plane had left behind. Why did they leave that in our home?
Besides wandering around the airport, we spent our time talking, reading, playing Diner Dash, and using the internet.
It was relaxing.
Eric found an abandoned luggage cart, so now it was much easier moving from gate to gate. We thought if we had to be in the airport another day, maybe we would visit the children's museum.
I started picking up garbage that the people boarding the plane had left behind. Why did they leave that in our home?
Besides wandering around the airport, we spent our time talking, reading, playing Diner Dash, and using the internet.
It was relaxing.
The Next Day and the Next
The next day we woke up early. The first flight left before 8am and we had to have time to ride the shuttle to the airport and get through security. We made it. But it wouldn't have mattered. We missed that flight, and the next, and the next, and the next. I think there was one flight left that day. We didn't think the plane would have room for us, so we started checking into flights to any city west of Denver. We actually thought of Denver too, but it was only halfway and we would still have 20 hours of driving left. We wondered if we should rent a car and start driving. We wondered if we should just go home.
Then as a final effort we decided to talk to the customer service representative one last time. Surprisingly she said there were three seats left on a plane to Salt Lake City. But the plane left in ten minutes -- And it was in a different concourse -- And we had to call our sponsor and get approval for the ticket change. We rushed across the airport. Eric was talking on the phone as we went. Another amazing thing, we got a hold of the one who had given us the tickets. He just happened to be in his hotel room in front of his computer. Not only that but he was able to talk to his contact and get our flight change approved by the time we got to the new gate. This approval process could take days, but we had just been approved in less than 10 minutes!
There were five people on standby, maybe it was six. We were so nervous. We had never been this close before. Then the shock came -- they actually called our names! We were getting on the plane! There was one seat left in first class. Lucky Eric got that one. He did have the longest legs. Mel and I headed to the back of the plane. Our seats were in the very back row, but when we got there, my heart sank. There was a man sitting in my seat. I knew there must be a mistake -- that the attendant shouldn't have called my name -- that I was getting off the plane. But to my relief she had one more seat in the middle of the plane that the man moved to and Mel and I sat together.
It was a small plane. Our seats could not recline at all because we were next to the back wall, but worse than that the seats leaned forward slightly. We didn't think it was a big deal, but four hours later when we got off the plane we realized our backs were sore, molded into the shape of a "c". The plane was delayed for about an hour because of weather. We were afraid we weren't going to leave. Although when we finally did leave, Mel said she felt a slight sadness as we left the airport that had become like a home to us.
I tried to sleep on the flight because I knew it would go faster, but it was hard to sleep because it was not comfortable. It was late when we arrived in Salt Lake. We were eager to get off the plane and excited about being that much farther west and not looking forward to the twelve hour drive ahead of us.
Eric started asking about our trip. He said he had such a relaxing trip. He was able to sleep, to stretch out. He was given a snack pack with about five different snacks (Mel and I had skipped dinner.) They kept offering him drinks. That's when we couldn't associate with him any more. We walked away toward the baggage claim with our hunched backs, ringed eyes and gnawing stomachs. Class envy, he said.
We tried to rent a car one way, but it was five times as much, so we decided round trip would be fine. We would fly out of Salt Lake again on the way home. When we finally left the airport it was after 1am. We looked for something open where we could get food, eventually we found a gas station and found some junk food. Which I ended throwing up later along the road in the wilderness of Utah. Eric drove through the night while Mel and I tried to sleep. Mel drove in the morning. I actually didn't drive the car at all until the trip home. By morning we were in Oregon, but Oregon is a large state, so we still had a lot of driving. It is also sparsely populated with fewer restaurants, compared to the east, so we ended up finding something to eat at a gas station again.
Mel lived on her coffee. Even Eric was becoming addicted.
We arrived in Westport Saturday afternoon.
Then as a final effort we decided to talk to the customer service representative one last time. Surprisingly she said there were three seats left on a plane to Salt Lake City. But the plane left in ten minutes -- And it was in a different concourse -- And we had to call our sponsor and get approval for the ticket change. We rushed across the airport. Eric was talking on the phone as we went. Another amazing thing, we got a hold of the one who had given us the tickets. He just happened to be in his hotel room in front of his computer. Not only that but he was able to talk to his contact and get our flight change approved by the time we got to the new gate. This approval process could take days, but we had just been approved in less than 10 minutes!
There were five people on standby, maybe it was six. We were so nervous. We had never been this close before. Then the shock came -- they actually called our names! We were getting on the plane! There was one seat left in first class. Lucky Eric got that one. He did have the longest legs. Mel and I headed to the back of the plane. Our seats were in the very back row, but when we got there, my heart sank. There was a man sitting in my seat. I knew there must be a mistake -- that the attendant shouldn't have called my name -- that I was getting off the plane. But to my relief she had one more seat in the middle of the plane that the man moved to and Mel and I sat together.
It was a small plane. Our seats could not recline at all because we were next to the back wall, but worse than that the seats leaned forward slightly. We didn't think it was a big deal, but four hours later when we got off the plane we realized our backs were sore, molded into the shape of a "c". The plane was delayed for about an hour because of weather. We were afraid we weren't going to leave. Although when we finally did leave, Mel said she felt a slight sadness as we left the airport that had become like a home to us.
I tried to sleep on the flight because I knew it would go faster, but it was hard to sleep because it was not comfortable. It was late when we arrived in Salt Lake. We were eager to get off the plane and excited about being that much farther west and not looking forward to the twelve hour drive ahead of us.
Eric started asking about our trip. He said he had such a relaxing trip. He was able to sleep, to stretch out. He was given a snack pack with about five different snacks (Mel and I had skipped dinner.) They kept offering him drinks. That's when we couldn't associate with him any more. We walked away toward the baggage claim with our hunched backs, ringed eyes and gnawing stomachs. Class envy, he said.
We tried to rent a car one way, but it was five times as much, so we decided round trip would be fine. We would fly out of Salt Lake again on the way home. When we finally left the airport it was after 1am. We looked for something open where we could get food, eventually we found a gas station and found some junk food. Which I ended throwing up later along the road in the wilderness of Utah. Eric drove through the night while Mel and I tried to sleep. Mel drove in the morning. I actually didn't drive the car at all until the trip home. By morning we were in Oregon, but Oregon is a large state, so we still had a lot of driving. It is also sparsely populated with fewer restaurants, compared to the east, so we ended up finding something to eat at a gas station again.
Mel lived on her coffee. Even Eric was becoming addicted.
We arrived in Westport Saturday afternoon.
Reading Prizes
My boys joined the summer reading club at our local library. This is the last week to hand in their reading charts. There are five charts total -- each with five hours of reading. They are given a prize as they complete each chart.
Today I read to them for about two hours because they really wanted to finish the chart they were working on. Now it is almost 11pm and my seven year old son says he will not sleep tonight because he wants to finish the new chart he just got today. He has no concept of how long five hours of reading is.
My six year old was falling asleep on his bed, but when I went in to check on him, he opened his eyes and asked me to read to him. Although he could barely keep his eyes open while he asked. I told him I would read to him tomorrow.
Such motivation. For what? A notebook! I will probably read to them for hours tomorrow so that they can get a notebook! I could go to the Dollar Store. I could go to Walmart and get a notebook for five cents with all the back to school sales. The last prize was a book, which has been, in my mind, the most valuable prize. But maybe it's not the prize that motivates, but that they really want to finish. They want to complete the goal -- to color in all the little pictures on the page. I bet if I asked them they wouldn't even know what prize they were getting.
But the thing I am wondering is -- Where is my prize? This is a lot of work!
On the other hand, I have enjoyed the time we've spent together. I really think reading is important for a child. Also, some of the books have been interesting and educational. I should sleep -- I have a long day of reading tomorrow.
Today I read to them for about two hours because they really wanted to finish the chart they were working on. Now it is almost 11pm and my seven year old son says he will not sleep tonight because he wants to finish the new chart he just got today. He has no concept of how long five hours of reading is.
My six year old was falling asleep on his bed, but when I went in to check on him, he opened his eyes and asked me to read to him. Although he could barely keep his eyes open while he asked. I told him I would read to him tomorrow.
Such motivation. For what? A notebook! I will probably read to them for hours tomorrow so that they can get a notebook! I could go to the Dollar Store. I could go to Walmart and get a notebook for five cents with all the back to school sales. The last prize was a book, which has been, in my mind, the most valuable prize. But maybe it's not the prize that motivates, but that they really want to finish. They want to complete the goal -- to color in all the little pictures on the page. I bet if I asked them they wouldn't even know what prize they were getting.
But the thing I am wondering is -- Where is my prize? This is a lot of work!
On the other hand, I have enjoyed the time we've spent together. I really think reading is important for a child. Also, some of the books have been interesting and educational. I should sleep -- I have a long day of reading tomorrow.
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