Schooldays

The Boy will miss our next trip to Honduras, but it's not really his cup of tea anyway. He will be staying behind, and likely worrying. (Never mind that we've told him again and again that there's no need to worry when he can pray.) He phoned last night to say that he will not be moving to his new digs yet. He hopes to have some idea on Friday, but the bureaucratic process could still see another schedule change. His Moving Day will likely come with little warning for him (and less for us), but it will be good when he is finished with his orientation and able to concentrate on his program and working toward a possible early high school graduation.
He's not the only one getting back into the swing of things at school in the next couple of weeks. Reach Out Honduras has seen the first eight children sponsored, and Laura is hopping to get children ready for school. The matriculation fees are due in a couple of weeks, and it's exciting to know that there are students who would have been unable to attend high school this year without the gifts of both their sponsors and those who have donated through the education fund over the past couple of months are readying uniforms and looking forward to their First Day of School.
Our family will arrive the day before school starts. It would have been fun to help Laura gather and distribute the school clothes and supplies, but it will be satisfying to be in Puerto Lempira as the students head back to class knowing we have had the privilege of playing a small role in their futures. Of the twenty-plus children receiving the combined care of four dedicated aunts (that number includes the aunts' own children as well), three will begin high school this year. Hopefully, next term will see Reach Out Honduras established to a point where all the high school candidates will become matriculating students.

Tidbits: Brrr.

• Warning: Knit gloves can become entangled in orthodontia. Should one's gloves become caught in one's brackets, seek a mother out immediately. She can probably fix it, and if you plead the photos won't be posted to Facebook or her blog.
• Cinnamon Vanilla Pancakes eaten while still in one's pajamas snug in a nice, warm kitchen looking out the window at the night's snow accumulation may be a perfect breakfast.
• The weather may be affecting Middle Child's hunt for a Science Fair Project on the net. (Her original project "...had too many variables,", and she messed around too long to be able to complete it.) Most of her ideas center around snow and ice. I wonder if the Home School population is skewing the online results by searching for science projects with ice/snow today?
• If the back door is left wide open, the heater cannot keep up. I do not care if, "Bella [the cat] wanted to go outside."

Picture Post: Powder

We drove to church this morning in a steady rain. By the time the final service let out, there were fat, white flakes of powdery goodness piled up on the ground and the cars. The drive home was a little slick, but it's been nonstop fun since!

 



Mom has really bad aim.

Little Bit

Middle Child

This expression accompanies smashing a pile of snow on her sister's head.

 



Fuel

Whirlwind day... that started at 3:00 a.m. There were good reasons for the wee hours wake-up call. In Texas, a forecast that so much as hints of snow or rain causes a run on the grocery for milk and bread. Those two items were at the top of my grocery list, so I rolled out of bed to shower and dress at dark o'clock. Running to the 24 hour market while the mister showered knowing that I prefer not to slide around on the roads drive in potentially icy conditions meant a cart full of the odds and ends that would make meals out of the sundry items in the pantry. Stops on the way home saw the car filled up with gas and donuts for the girls' breakfast in our absence. Finally, the car pulled up at home to unload the groceries and hit the road while the sky was still dark.
While saner people were snoozing snug in their beds, the two of us followed one highway until it met another taking us south. I pulled up our son's new address on my phone and watched as the blue dot that was our vehicle move in slow blips toward the red dot in it's unfamiliar location. Just after 9:00, we were sharing hugs with our Boy for the first time since December. The two hour visit passed quickly, and we departed too soon freeing up space for other visitors shuffling into the sterility of the communal space. We were fortunate to see him because he expects to move from his orientation on to a new location anytime after Tuesday. Again the reality of the unknown with the bonus of a roadside stop involving a sodium-soaked chicken sandwich with a side of greasy tater tots. And an ice cream cone.
Freed up from the tyranny of the grocery list (and a little sorry about the lunch choices and the leftover donut eaten on returning home before topping it off with a taste of ), a nap was in order once we made it back home. The mister nudged me back into consciousness just after 5:00 in the evening. Which was great, except that I had a meal to deliver between 5:30 and 6:00 for our recently bereaved friends, and the manicotti needed to bake for 45 minutes. Rushing down the stairs to pop the stuffed pasta shells into the oven, it was a race to get the salad fixings washed and prepped. Tossing everything into a bowl, the sudden knowledge of an item left off the grocery list carried the mister out the door while the crazed veggie slicing continued. He came through the door in time for the bread to go in the oven while the mozzarella slices were layered with the tomatoes sprinkled liberally with basil. The (teasing) text came across at 5 after 6:00, "Where's our food?"
I called Lisa to inform her that her food was coming on Holly Time. Explaining about how the family's dinner fell behind because I was napping in the Land That Time Forgot, I promised we would be there soon. Only to realize there was no dessert. "Um. How important is dessert?" She informed me that someone making a condolence call had just dropped off the mother of all goody trays from a local bakery. Perfect. The dinner could be there in about ten minutes since there was no stopping to pick up a ready-made treat to top off the meal. Don and I drove over together since he had yet to make his condolence call.
We'd covered hundreds of miles to love on those dear to us over the course of the day. On our way home, the low fuel light lit up. We covered over 300 miles in the space of 13 hours seeing the sun rise from inside the car and remarking on the clouds coming in as it set with the pair of us again going down the road away from home. The car was running on fumes, but we were far from running on empty considering the blessing of so many loved ones with which we share our lives.

Attending

It was going okay until she said, "This morning, Ralph said..." Because she won't be able to say that ever again. Tammy was referring to her husband. I stood on the screened porch staring at nothing while Tammy, those family members who live in town, Tammy and Ralph's pastor, several ladies (who are more sisters than friends to the newly bereaved), and two little children playing on the floor waited for the Medical Examiner to conduct the necessary business inside the house.  The memorial service will wait for January 18th at 2:00 p.m. It will no doubt be well attended because there is much to celebrate when considering the life of Ralph Adler.
Gentle Readers may recall that the Spring of 2008 was spent in preparation for a prayer team to travel to Poland, and that the team faced an unexpected challenge. Missionary to Poland Shelley (ShelleyinPoland) and short-term team member Lisa's father became gravely ill that March. There were huge prayer chains formed via e-mail across the globe to pray for Ralph, and for his family. Months later, when he returned home, I took a scrapbook documenting the months of his illness and recovery with the prayers of individuals pasted into a book along with the faithful updates sent out by Tammy. That book was a testimony to the power of prayer, but it was a small thing compared to the impact of the man who mentored countless men including my mister. Steve Lucas put it well today saying, "The world has become poorer, and Heaven richer."

Having been part of a team praying for Ralph, a team including two of his daughters praying for Poland, and a smaller team praying for Ralph's daughter Lisa to be blessed with a child, I contemplate an image of Ralph holding the hand of that daughter shortly before the birth of his granddaughter. It is an image that speaks of faith and the power of prayer, and of the legacy of a man who loved God and others.

May, 2010

Tech No

In my mind there exists a line that cannot be crossed. The line between those with technical skills and those without such. Feet firmly planted on the "without" side, I tend to peer over into the realm of the technically adept with something between awe and frustration. Frustration because those like my mister make it look very easy to navigate through the strings of gobbledy gook referred to as code. Except that there are occasionally incentives that push me over the line by a hair's breadth.
A hair's breadth that feels like a mile to the inept. (That would be me.) Except that Laura had a teensy break with reality today. More importantly, she knows the key to motivating this particular stubborn, technologically illiterate individual into at least trying. The Sponsorship Page  through Reach Out Honduras did not reflect the latest new sponsors, and our links were not gong to the proper places. This seems like a big thing in my head. (Likely a bigger thing than it truly is, but in my mind there are dozens of potential sponsors cruising the page trying to determine which child... and we're not up to date! Um, yeah. I know. But, still...) My mister has access to the web site, and Laura suggested that I, "...just make the changes. If you are okay with that..."
Waaah. I do not know how. There is no way. As the wails reached a new high, my mister e-mails me a link. He then tells me to click on the link with a misplaced calm rationality. (Perhaps he does not grasp the futility of me + code?!) Then he directs me to a side bar where I click on "Pages". Oh. The page is a blog. Really?! I make the changes. I click "Update", then feel foolish for freaking out. Pshaw. Ditching foolish, I am feeling remarkably technologically literate. Literate enough that I agree when the crazy lady asks for several other changes to the website. And I think I can. If not, I will learn.

Request

Ah, it's a funny thing how one can come to feel a camaraderie with those whose worlds are given view through the words, photos, and videos shared on blogs without ever having met. Having followed the ups and downs of Green Girl's Team Testosterone over the past couple of years, it is with hope that news of another trial to take her Mr. T off his anti-seizure meds is received. Perhaps this is the time, and so, I will pray. Absolutely. Resolutely.

Tidbits: Yay

• Hello, 2011! This year is off to a lovely start. The offspring are all back in school, but my mister had one more day off today. This was brilliant, and we should try to schedule this sort of thing on purpose in the future. It's a welcome change to hug the man without Middle Child informing us that we should, "Get a room! Ew." Really. We have a room. In fact, she lives in the string of rooms we call our house. So there.
• Green Girl's January Giveaway has resulted in the likelihood that I will be getting to know the mail lady better. GG's posts last week offered a combination of homemade goodies for her giveaway. The trifecta of mitts, raspberry jam, good-for-you granola will be headed this way, and the anticipation is entirely enjoyable. Last week's comments on her posts were, ah, well, mostly about the giveaway goodies. See, I can focus when it's really important.
• The list of Stuff to Take to Honduras is starting to form. The pile of stuff on my dining room table is also forming in response. Hopefully, we will be carrying audio Bibles in Miskito, dehydrated vegetables to supplement our friends' diets, a DS charger and styluses for a friend of Middle Child's, and the fourth season of the t.v. show Seventh Heaven. One can only imagine what else will be added on to the packing list in the weeks to come.
• Firefly is on Ovation tonight. Who would've thought a Western Space epic would be a good idea? Only Joss Whedon.

Wardrobe

I panicked. The Little Navy Dress (LND) went back to the store in a New Year's Day flurry brought on by the news that two of the three wives from last year's party were possibly wearing pants. (I would be the third wife. And I had not really considered pants.) Except that my dress pants no longer fit quite right. The not-dressy Little Black Dress that seemed like an easy go-to solution to the oh.but.no of this unexpected last minute "What to wear?" was also too big. The weight lost (yes, people, lost...) over the holidays was seeming like less of a good thing with under five hours to go until the mister's work party started, and nothing to wear but jeans or sweats.
Asking, well, melodramatically howling might be more accurate, "Why, oh, why isn't flannel dressy?!" in the midst of the hunt for something (anything) that fit, it became abundantly clear that we had been hasty in our drive over to drop off clothes at a local charity because everything tried on should have gone into the give away bag. Ugh.  Again whining about the dressy occasion that had been a Happy Place a couple of weeks ago, the reality that we were going shopping set in with a sinking sort of dread. Again with the, "Ugh." Grabbing keys, the LND and matching accessories with receipts for returns, the mister and I tore out of the house.
After hitting a succession of shops, the mister and I finally gave up on finding something that matched the texted description of dressing, "...nice, but not a cocktail dress," and "...either pants or a dress depending on which looks better." We headed home empty-handed with the certainty that we had exhausted our options. The dress pants that were a little snug earlier in the Fall were threatening to fall off, but that's what belts are for, right? We made it out the door, and headed for the destination with insistence that we were not going to fret further over the wardrobe dramas of the day, but would instead focus on enjoying a wonderful meal with a nice group of people. Attitude adjusted, and pants hiked up, we entered the restaurant.
Where all of the other wives were wearing... cocktail dresses. *sigh*

Circling

Uh-oh. Walker texted last night with the great news that she had found a trustworthy mechanic with fair prices. She said her truck was not running well, so she took it in to discover that it needed a new coil. I have no idea what a coil might be or do. I do know that my same make and model Mom Mobile gets a nasty case of the shakes on an incline. This seemed like a good time to ask if her version of "not well" might include a vibration. Uh-huh. Oh. With confirmation that the vibration tends to get more exciting on an incline or while accelerating, I asked that she please pass along the contact. I'm not going to mention a coil when I call the guy, but I will not be too surprised if it turns out that our similar issues turn out to have a similar cause.

The truck is currently very likely to end up as the learning vehicle for the kids. (If they can park an Expedition in a tiny parking spot, then they might be ready to drive.) As we considered the potential for teen drivers looming on the horizon, my mister commented that it's time for my Mom Mobile to go kablooey. (Actually, he used a rather effective sound effect, but I cannot spell that, so be content with the relatively clear, "kablooey".) This conversation, of course, came a day or so ahead of Walker's text. We're more accurate than Murphy's Law around here. The conversation is one that has been ongoing as part of the larger one on whether or not to consider a third vehicle because it is time for The Boy to be in possession of his learner's permit, and our intent had been to put him in driver's classes in January with an eye toward a license in the Summer.
Instead, he will probably end up eligible to drive about the same time as Middle Child. That way we can add not one, but two teen drivers to the insurance at one time. And "Why not?!" since that pair have so often hit milestones together despite their two year age difference. The reality of the Daring Duo being behind the wheel in three years... wait a minute. Today is the 30th... so from 2011 that's two years. They can both be driving without a grown-up in the car to stomp ineffectually on the absentee passenger side brake while hissing and hyperventilating in 2013. So my math is still off. That means a permit could be in Middle Child's hands in 2012.
It seems like so many decisions come back around to the unknowns around the Boy... Should we save for a replacement Mom Mobile, and let the offspring learn to drive in the tank-like safety of the Expedition? Will we be able to afford both of them driving at once? I think that simply getting whatever is giving the Expedition the shimmy, shimmy, shake-shakes fixed is about as far into the future as I am prepared to peer this morning. Everything else just circles back in on itself. Raspberries. And how could I have failed to realize that my girl is only seventeen months from eligibility for a driver's permit?! She's still kind of little. In my head.

Proceeding

It's been an exciting day. The mister and I made a trip over to get his oral Typhoid immunization. It never fails to amuse me when we have Typhoid in the fridge, and I can now entertain myself by saying so for the next week. The oral Typhoid seemed like a better bet than an injection after the mister's unfortunate incident a couple of weeks ago. We picked up the mosquito repellent spray to treat our clothes and anti-Malarial prescriptions at the same time before heading on to our next trip-related stops.
A stop at the notary saw our paperwork for the trip ready to go, and we headed over to turn in our fee and forms for the stay at House of Hope. In case the plane tickets to San Pedro Sula were not a commitment, we've added another set of vaccinations and the reservations at House of Hope. Driving home, the idea of departing in about seven weeks still seemed a little unreal. I wonder if that will change before the landing gear is retracted? How can we possibly be so blessed as to go back just three months after our last trip?!
The message to the Familia Alastero sponsors went out offering the opportunity to send a card, photo, or gift along with us for delivery to their children. (It made for a fun opportunity to introduce myself to the sponsors as their administrative helper, too.) Hopefully, our friends who sponsor kids at the various children's homes will be able to send a little something along as remembrances for the kids with a month's notice. We will have some preparations to make ourselves to that effect. Our sweet Claudia's mommy had a brand new baby girl a couple of days ago, and I have several bags of the sweetest baby girl layette from friends in Pleasant Suburb to take for the new arrival. That may be my favorite goody we get to deliver!

Tidbits: Should

• Walker and I met before dawn for Girly Coffee while our guys had their weekly Man Meeting. We really ought to be walking, but it was both too early and too cold for either of us to feel remotely motivated.
• Ow.  I had a crown seated. Woo. Or, perhaps Boo. My theory that this should be a quick and done appointment flew out the window with the administration of antibiotics because, "...this might be a little complicated." Eh? No. Just pop out the temporary crown, and cement the new one in place. Mmm. No. There were bad things happenin', and now I am sore despite having been numbed so that I cannot feel my nostrils two hours later even though the medication should have been a fast-acting one that wore off quickly.
• The mister had a cleaning while I was being poked and prodded. He? Still has his wisdom teeth. At least, he does for the moment. Those should have already been taken out. Lovely.
• I should knock out a couple of loads of laundry, e-mail the Familia Alastero sponsors to invite them to send letters, cards, photos, and/or gifts to their sponsor children, finish bagging some donations, and take down the Christmas decorations.
• Words like "should" and "ought" tend to force some small rebellious seed buried within me to sprout into a writhing, live thing from time to time. This is usually a strong internal hint that a Day Off is due. Sooo... since it's cold, I am going to crawl back under the covers and catch a movie or read instead of working on the things that could perhaps otherwise (not better, just otherwise) occupy the afternoon.