R.I.P.

Below is a timeline of the events surrounded the untimely death of our dear Sparky. Thursday was an insane day to begin with and then--surprise--pet death. Ugh.

7:30 a.m

Phoebe feeds,waters and pets Sparky.

8:00 a.m.

I walk Phoebe and Mo to school. Ollie and I spend the morning running errands, playing, etc.

12:00 p.m.

Ollie and pick Mo and Zip up from school. Kindergartners have a half day due to Kindergarten Round-Up for next year's crop of kiddos (including Oliver).

12:15 p.m.

Mo, Zip and I take Ollie to school.

1:00 p.m.

Mo, Zip and I get Ollie from his classroom and walk him down the hall to Kindergarten Round up.

2:00 p.m.

Mo, Zip and I go to DQ for ice cream.

3:15 p.m.

We pick up Phoebe and Ollie from school.

4:20 p.m.

Mo goes out into the backyard to play and comes running in screaming "SPARKY IS DEAD!" Everyone goes tearing outside. Sparky is, indeed, dead inside her doghouse (if anyone is reading this without background info--Sparky is a duck. You can read more about the ducks here.) I like to think she didn't feel well and went to go lie down in bed. There is a dark yellow substance smeared on her and the hay in the doghouse--it's yolky. She hasn't laid an egg in a month or two--after laying one egg every day for over a year. We fear her death had something to do with egg production, but we're no poultry experts so it remains a mystery.

4:25 p.m.

I call Paul and he comes home.

4:30 p.m.

Zip's mom picks her. She is sad but fine, however, her mom later reports that she looses it once she gets in the van.

Paul and I start digging a hole in the garden.

4:35 p.m.

We tearfully lay Sparky to rest. Phoebe, Mo and I have a good cry. Moses refuses to put dirt on top of her. Between sobs he says, "It just seems so mean. If she were alive we'd never do anything like that to her!"

4:45 p.m.

Our friends, the Vondies, arrive to pick us up for a trip to Lincoln to hear David Sedaris read. We bought tickets a year ago. Such, such bad timing. How could we know? Jean also arrives, lucky lucky Aunt Jean, who gets to babysit the grieving, crying children. Phoebe gets in bed and cries herself to sleep. Jean wakes her up for dinner. They all draw pictures of Sparky and make lists of the things they love about her. Phoebe writes Sparky a letter.

We have a delightful time in Lincoln. Sedaris is hilarious and read only one essay I knew--and that was Jesus Shaves--so, how cool is that? We meet our friends who also went, but didn't sit with us at Starbucks. I call and check on the kids a couple times.

Friday 7:00 a.m.

I wake up Moses for school who sits bolt upright and says, "I'm supposed to feed Sparky this morning, but it doesn't matter!" I call our neighbors to let them know so they can tell Annie before she goes to Kindergarten and hears the sad news there. Everyone is sad. Everyone loved Sparky. We wondered if our neighbors would complain about ducks in the yard--but Sparky was a neighborhood hit.

7:50 a.m.

I go over to school without the kids and tell their teachers the news. All three of them kept saying how they were going to tell their teachers, but I thought I'd give a heads up.

4:00 p.m.

After school and snack we go out into the garden and lay a stone which reads "Our Beloved Pet" on Sparky's grave along with flowers and trinkets.

While Mo gives the most dramatic response to Sparky's death, it's Phoebe who feels it most deeply and misses her the most. She, more than anyone, cared for Sparky and enjoyed her company. Ollie is very practical, "I can't take her to school for farm week." "I don't have to shut the gate anymore." I don't think we'll get another duck. It was a lovely chapter in our life to have silly ducks for pets, but chapters end. Farewell, Sparky. Rest in peace.

bliss

I just ordered this from Amazon with a gift card we got for Christmas. Thank you Aunt Ellen and Uncle Dave. If you are not familiar, please click on over to netflix or call your local video rental establishment/public library/whathaveyou and get your hands on the best tv show ever. Seriously. Every single episode made me 1)laugh hysterically 2)cry. When we got to the last episode I was completely beside myself 1)because it was so so great and 2)because it was the END and I hated to let these characters go.

the end of an era

Sparky is dead.

internet access

I am writing this post from Hastings Public Library. I am a Library Board member (Vice President, if you must know) and I use the library all the time but I've never been on the computers. Ollie is upstairs at story hour. I brought a book and a crochet project but I don't feel like doing either. And anyway, this is good practice.

Good practice for what, you ask? Here's the story. Paul and I share a cell phone. We have a land line at the house and one cell we use for long distance and for one of us to take with us whenever, though neither of us usually carry it around. If Paul's going birding, he'll take it. If I'm going to record at Todd & Cody's (they DON'T have a land line, so no one could reach me there) I'll take it.

I mentioned to Paul that when I start school next year we might want two cells. I will probably want to have one with me. Since I'll be on the go, from class to class, to work, probably to field work in a classroom somewhere it would be nice and smart to have the phone with me--if the kids' school calls (you know, head lice, rocks in the ears, whathaveyou). But it would be hard for Paul to NEVER have access to it--no long distance, no way to call for help should he get stuck down some muddy country road while birdwatching over lunch. Two phones might be nice. I refuse to say necessary--it would be nice and convenient.

So then our thoughts turned to how to pay for this added nicety and convenience. Give up cable? Oh, yeah. We don't have cable to give up. Give up the land line? I'm not ready to make that leap.

Having a common phone number is important to me because of it's impact on our family, and my marriage. I have friends with no land line and two separate cell numbers. When I want to call them I have to choose whom to call. In some cases, I am closer with , or have more business to discuss with the husband than the wife. No big deal. If I was calling a home phone either one of them would answer. If I had something to discuss with the husband and the wife answered I would get to talk to her first and then ask to speak with the husband. But with cell phones I end up only having contact with the husband and it could happen that the wife would never know that I had spoken to him. Again, in and of itself, it is no big deal.

Especially, as I am not now, nor do I plan ever to have an affair, this is no big deal. But I can see how easily it could become one. Technology increasingly provides avenues of privacy that we haven't ever really had before.

I remember talking to my friends or boyfriend on the phone in the living room with my whole family in there watching tv. Eventually we got a really, really long coiled handset cord that would stretch down the hall, not quite into my room--but at least I could sit at the end of the hall with my back against my closed bedroom door. Now all the high school kids in my Sunday School class have their own phone. They can talk to whomever they want, whenever they want about whatever they want and their parents have no way of controlling or monitoring or being in the know whatsoever.

Husbands and wives can have entirely private lives conducted over cell phones and the Internet without the other knowing. I have a yahoo account that's my "dummy account" for when I have to give an email address, so spam doesn't come to my regular account. It's how I log onto blogger and myspace and whatever. Paul may not know what that address even is. I could have a whole email centered life, if I wanted to, that he knew nothing about. That's creepy.

As it is we have a joint primary email account. I like this. I don't read his email. He doesn't read my email (do you? :) ). But when I get an email it's right there in the inbox for him to look at if he wanted. I have nothing to hide. It's like a little safety net, should we ever need accountability, there it is. If for some reason I felt insecure or threatened by...I don't know...a bunch of emails coming from some birdwatching lady in North Dakota...I could read them if I wanted. I think I'd find a boring (subjective term, I know) list of rare birds spotted this spring, but I could look if I wanted. And when my guy friends email me, Paul sees it in the inbox. I like that openness.

I have no reason to be suspicious. I'm not in the least. I have no reason to be worried. I am not in the least. And I never have been--because we have always had that sort of openness.

Another thing (in italics because I'm adding it later): answering the phone when it is not for you chit-chat is important. When my mom wants to talk to me, if she called my cell and not our family number, she would never talk to Paul. Same goes for any extended family. Paul's brothers wouldn't call ME, in most cases, unless it was for something specific, and that would be rarely. But when they do call for Paul and I answer I get to talk to them for a few minutes. That is important. That is how we stay a family and keep in touch.

So we will keep the land line.

Plus, our kids will want a phone to use. Phoebe has started calling friends and making plans. She and Moses LOVE to call time and temp. I feel like if we had only cell phones, they would be less likely to get to practice those small, basic, very first phone calls. Sure, they could dig my phone out of my purse...but the phone sitting on the counter is much more accessable. And they are learning how to ANSWER the phone when it rings. I sometimes forget that these are skills kids have to LEARN, but they do and they are important life skills. I would not pull the ringing cell phone out of my pocket and hand it to Mo to answer. Maybe people do. I can't picture it. I imagine a generation of kids growing up NOT using the phone (because there isn't one on the counter accessible to them) and then when they are twelve or something, suddenly, they have their OWN cell phone, which they can then use with no monitoring without having ever learned phone etiquette, or appropriateness, or...maybe this is all in my head...but these are the things I think about.

But something has to give if we are to afford two cell phones. Paul suggested ditching Internet access, which seemed TOTALLY ABSURD to me at first. No Internet. Wuh huh? Impossible. But if Paul is at work all day with a computer and I am at school all day in class or working in the learning center/computer lab--couldn't we get all our computing done during business hours? And if not, the church IS right across the street. Plus, if I couldn't get on the Internet to stare at Craftster and TMZ, think of all I could accomplish.

Of course, then we'd have to use our "dummy" email accounts as real accounts, thus getting rid of the open and shared email inbox of which I just spoke so highly. Or we could get a shared dummy account, but that almost seems like taking it to far....or not?

nerd-tastic!

What could be better than a 50 cent, 1970's, 100% acrylic, JC Penney ski sweater? It's weird to need it in April but I'm pretty pleased with this find.

By the by, did you know there is no longer a "cent" symbol on my keyboard? I guess there never was one on my keyboard--it wouldn't have just dissappeared--so, I mean, on your keyboard? On any keyboard? Are we so over pennies now?

calling for back up

Right now I am (obviously) sitting at the computer in my basement office. Moses is screaming himself silly upstairs on the top bunk. Everyone else is at mid-week classes at church.

It's been a long afternoon. Mo had a field trip today, which I think wore him out. He was upset at dinner because he didn't get the chair he wanted. Why not? Because he got mad a week ago and threw that chair down and knocked a screw out so the seat fell off. I haven't fixed it yet. He says the other chairs hurt his back. No one else seems to mind them, but he does, and threw a fit over it.

And then I wouldn't give him his dinner plate because he hadn't unpacked his lunchbox. On Tuesday morning when Easter break was over I went to pack his lunch and found the left overs from THURSDAY'S lunch. Gross. Initially the rule was you don't get snack after school until you've emptied the lunch box. But after school is such a chaotic rush that I always froget to enforce it--so now it's no dinner. He freaked out. He told me I was being mean. He said I didn't seem very sorry that he was crying. I told him I wasn't sorry I was sticking to my rules, but I was sorry he was so sad about it. Of course emptying his lunch box took about 30 seconds and then he got his dinner--but he cried for 20 minutes about it.

Then it was time to leave for church. Moses had a book in his hand and I asked him to put it down. He said he wanted to bring it. When I told him no he launched into another fit. I told him, "We don't take anything to class with us. It's one more thing to keeep track of AND your teacher already has your class all planned. You won't have time for that book." It's another sort of standard rule. You don't take stuff to class. You don't bring toys in the store. Not something crazy I just made up. He looked at me like I had personally insulted him.

The fit continued as we crossed the street. Oliver and Phoebe skipped off to class Moses skulked in the hallway. I said I wasn't leaving until he went into his class room. He skulked. I stood there. He skulked. I heard his class starting up. I tried to coax him in. I tried to make small talk to distract him. He skulked. I offered hugs and kisses. I cracked jokes. Skulked. I finally said, "you can go to class or go to bed." He skulked. I repeated myself. He skulked. I said , "you can choose or I will choose for you. which do you want to do?" Skulked. I said, "I'm counting to three. You choose by three or I will choose for you." I counted. He skulked. I calmly took him by the hand and marched him back across the street.

He's now in his bed screaming. Still. It's been twenty-five minutes. I'm starting to feel like an ogre. I'm doing the right thing here, right? (Now is the time where you affirm me. If you think I'm crazy, save it for another day. I am in need of affirmation here, people.)

He is risen indeed!

We had a lovely Easter. After successfully getting through and hour and a half long tenebrae service with the kids on Good Friday, I was feeling a little cocky. I thought we'd try the Easter morning sunrise service. I dragged the kids out of bed at 6:10 am, they through some clothes off and we went across the street for the 6:30 service. Paul read the preface to Walt Wangerin's Ragman, which is a resurrection narritive, as his sermon. It rocked. We sang Easter hymns (but because the sunrise service is a small crowd, we only got through two communion hymns before communion was done--stopping just before I Know That My Redeemer Lives, darnit!) We said, "He is risen! He is risen, indeed!" We brought back out the alleluias with gusto. The service started in predawn darkness and by the benediction the joyous light of Easter was shining through the stained glass, spraying color on the walls. We had breakfast in the fellowship hall. The kids and I went home for an hour (during the 8:00 service) and watched cartoons and then back for Sunday School at 9:15 (it pays to live in the parsonage!). We came home, hung out, had lunch. When Paul got home (after the 11:00 service) we hunkered down for nap time. No one ever wants to take a nap, but since we were up at six I thought we'd try it. Phoebe slept like a champ. The boys did not which meant Paul and I didn't really either--it was a rest anyway.
At 3:30 I got up and put the ham in the oven. We decorated eggs. Paul made gin and tonics. Jean and Gus came over. While the kids cleaned up the basement the grown ups hid the eggs and then we had our hunt. I guess normal people do this on Easter morning but that's just impossible for us--we've always done it at about 5:00 Easter evening. We don't even bother with the Easter Bunny--how would that work? He snuck in during the hour between the time they decorated the eggs and hunted for them?
We had dinner (yum!). Took a family walk. Had dessert (yum! Thanks, Jean!).

We keep teasing Jean because last week when we started making Easter plans she said, "Easter isn't Easter without family!" You can imagine Paul's response. "Really? Really, Jean? There's no Easter without family? So what? Jesus stays in the grave? What about the widow and the orphan who HAVE no family? No resurrection for them?"

While I firmly believe nothing could keep Jesus in the grave, it IS nice to have family in town to celebrate with.

what AM i gonna do with all that junk?

more nonsence.

this song is ridiculous. its ridiculousness is pefectly showcased here. i've always like alaniss morissette. enjoy.

unbelievable

Last night somebody had a serious flatulence problem and handed her father this note while he was talking on the phone. I get the giggles everytime I think about it. I woke Paul up because I kept laughing in bed. What kind of grown ups are these kids going to be?

"Your going to be smelling egg saled for a wile."

jokes

1) I got my official PPST scores in the mail yesterday. I scored higher in math than writing.

2) Lately, when the kids start fighting and it gets to the point where one might punch the other, I've taken to pumping my fist in the air and shouting, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" like all the idiots circling 'round in junior high used to. This has three results. 1) I crack myself up. 2) I make the kids mad at me instead of each other. 3) They stop fighting.

Palm Sunday was April 1st

Last week we watched ET as a family. We thought about going to see The Last Mimzy, but Rotten Tomatoes gave it a 54% which didn't seem to warrant spending $25 admission (plus snacks) for the five of us to go. Instead we decided to go rent ET (97%).

I remembered going to see it in the theater with my family and our neighbors. We had a bunch of neighbors with kids the same age as my siblings (I was the youngest at home AND on the block) and we all did everything together--vacations, movies, whathaveyou. We all went to see ET. It was summer. Everyone liked it. Everyone cried. And I sobbed. I bawled. I remember being packed in the hot sticky Aspen station wagon with a load of older kids and crying my eyes out while they rolled theirs at me.

I looked at the production date on ET. It was 1982. I was a second grader, just like Phoebe, who, like her mother, cried like a baby on my lap when ET told Elliot to "be good" and boarded his space craft. It is still a fantastic movie. Go watch it.

Sunday morning we were eating breakfast before church. Paul was long gone to the office and the kids and I were sitting around the table just like every Sunday.

Phoebe: Hey, Mom. In ET when Michael's friends are making fun of Elliot and asking about his goblin and Elliot says he's a spaceman and they don't believe him...? Well, the one guy says, "What planet is he from? Uranus? Uranus? Get it? Uranus? Ur Anus? Get it?" And he laughs? Remember that? Well, I don't get it.

Emily: (taking a deep breath, stalling to think and keep from laughing) I will explain it to you, but you should know that it is kind of a naughty joke. (the children's eyes light up) Uranus is a planet in our solar system. There's Earth, Mars, Neptune.. (Phoebe starts singing a song which names all the planets, pronouncing Uranus with the accent on the first syllable, not the second)..exactly. So the kid asks if ET is from Uranus, which is a planet. But the word "anus" is the hole in your bottom...where poop comes out.

Children: (mouths and eyes as big as saucers, laughing) What?!?!

Emily: So he is making a joke--a pun--on the words anus and Uranus. It sounds like he is asking if he is from Uranus, which is okay and not funny, but what he's really saying is "is ET from your anus?" (confused faces, not quite getting it) "Is ET from your bottom?" (slightly amused, still not seeing what the big deal is) "Is ET from your butt hole?" (and they all fall apart, half horrified, half delighted).

Moses: (now running in circles waving his spoon above his head) Bad word! Mom said a bad word! You can't say that!

Emily: I know! Phoebe wanted me to explain the joke. I told you it was naughty. But can you see how that is funny? (They all nod, unsure if it is okay to admit seeing the humor). Yes it is funny, but naughty, and not a joke WE will make.

Oliver: If his Mom heard him say that he'd have to go to his room.

And I was left thinking, as I often do, "this is my life? really? it is MY job to explain these things? and I'm doing it with a straight face?" I felt like this was my April Fool--having to explicitly explain the Uranus/Your Anus joke.

I did play an April Fool of my own. We had had a talk about April Fools--about how we like NICE jokes. We like happy surprises, not anything that is going to make people mad or hurt feelings. "Because, kids, if you play a mean joke on your friends, what will your friends want to do?" In unison: "Play a mean joke on you!" Sometimes I feel like I'm the host of some demented children's show on PBS ("can you say 'anus' kids? repeat after me!").

I bought angel food cake and frosting. I added food coloring to the white frosting until it looked as close to American Singles as I could get it. I sliced the angel food thin, melted some butter in a frying pan, and whipped up some faux grilled cheese sandwiches. It was convincing. Of course it was convincing, I read about it in Martha Stewart Living. My sister-in-law, who dropped by after church only said, 'that cheese is weird color" but Paul stuck an elbow in her ribs.

Unfortunately, the frosting was dripping and Moses licked it off his fingers before I could orchestrate everyone taking a bite at the same time. They all examined their sandwiches and licked their fingers and Phoebe said, "April Fool?" Phoebe and Mo had a good laugh and couldn't believe it was cake and not bread--it looked just like bread! But Ollie never stopped to say anything. He was too busy cramming that cake/sandwich down his craw.

First Funeral

This morning Moses and I went to the funeral of his classmates' mother. Thursday I went to my friend Dee's funeral. Today Moses and I went to this one. Neither Mo nor I knew this woman. The boys just started kindergarten in the fall and Miles' mom went into the hospital, I believe, in October. We didn't really have a chance to know her. I wasn't sure I even knew who the dad was until I saw him this morning. I have seen him around. We introduced ourselves. How odd to be there and not know the deceased or her husband--our only connection being these six year old boys.

Moses and Miles share a locker. He is cute as a button. Mo really likes him. When we heard his mom died Moses showed true empathy. We knew Miles and his family were on their way to Michigan where his mom's side of the family lives but Mo wished he would be at school the next day. "I just want to see Miles. I just want to talk to Miles."

So, the memorial "celebration" was this morning and all Miles' classmates were invited. A letter was sent from school saying this was purely optional but gave the details, saying it would be child-friendly, child-geared. Moses wanted to go. We wanted him to go. This is what you do, right? This is how you are a friend to your friends. You show up for this stuff.

So Teresa (mom) and Annie (kindergartener) who live next door picked us up in the driving rain/almost snow and then we picked up another mom and classmate and headed to the church. I felt akward asking the dad/husband what his first name was again--but we both knew we didn't know each other so I didn't see the point in struggling through the rest of the morning not knowing his name and he didn't know mine either so it was fine....I think it was fine....I hope it was anyway...maybe I came off like a jerk, but I don't think so.

The service was lovely. The congregational hymn was Jesus Loves Me which slayed me with its simplicity. There were scripture readings followed by a sketchy (but ultimately fine) sermon and then a solo by a maybe sixth grade boy with a gorgeous soprano voice. Then the dad/husband gave the "remembrance." I simply don't know how he did it. I don't know how he stood up there and spoke about his wife but it was amazing. It was beautiful. It was a beautifully written piece, beautifully presented. I wish I had known this woman.

Then there was a children's message where someone read that "Little Nut Brown Hare" book about "how much I love you." And while we sang the closing hymn (another simple but beautiful song by Natalie Sleeth) the kids all traced their hands and signed their names on a poster for Miles so he'd know who was there. After the hymn the kids lead us out of the sanctuary, out of the church picking up helium balloons on the way. We stood in the sleet in the parking lot where the pastor gave the benediction and we let the balloons go--some with messages tied to the strings.

Back inside there were coloring books about Moms for the kids and plates of cookies. Miles had told the kids at school they were going to have nachos after the funeral but he fessed up that he was only teasing--really there was chicken noodle soup and he warned us it was bad, with really big pieces of chicken. I stood around and talked to the other kindergarten moms and dads (there were about 8 families), the principal, counselor and two kindergarten teachers from school. I spoke to Miles' dad again before I left--what a neat guy--and what thought and care went into to planning this, much of it solely for his son.

And that was that--Mo's first funeral. He knew it was sad. He knew it was heavy. But he's six. He chased Miles around the parking lot. He said, "See ya Monday at school!" I hope he knows now not to dread these sorts of things. Of course no one likes going to funerals. But it's what you do. It's how you are a friend to your friends. You show up for the funeral and then you seamlessly say, "see you Monday at school!" and chase him around the parking lot.

Raspberry Beret in the Serengeti

When we were in England we scheduled our lives around the sketch comedy show Big Train. It was apparently only on for the one year we were there. We didn't realize just how lucky we were.

Here is a little rainy Thursday morning humor from the BBC.

PS: Spellcheck told me how to spell "Serengeti" and it looks wrong to me...but what do I know?

don't worry--wait for it

This terrible Thing happened. It was a life-ruining, dream-crushing Thing. It was horrible. I was sitting in the kitchen of a friend from church crying my eyes out. I was bawling uncontrolably and inconsolably (rightfully so) like I haven't done since I don't know when. When I thought about the Thing I felt ill. When I thought about what to do next--how to get over the Thing--all the options seemed more horrendus and painful and sickening then the Thing itself. I wanted to die. I was heavy and full of black dread.

I sobbed, "I'm usually a straight-forward head-on kind of person. I can usually face things, but I can't face this. I can't do it. All I can do is hope it will magically disappear. For the first time in my life I can honestly only see failure and doom. All I can do is wish this is all a dream and that I will wake up."

And then I did.

It was a dream.

I was so happy.

I snuggled back under my covers with the robins chirping outside the window and had another hour of blissful dream-free sleep.

so sick of cancer

Thursday morning I have to go to my friend Dee's funeral. I can not believe Dee died. I could not believe it last week when I heard Dee was home on hospice with a few days left.

Screw you, cancer.

When I got the news that she was indeed dying and soon I felt ripped off. I told Paul that the only think I could think of was so cliche--"I thought I'd have more time." And Paul said that's how cliches become cliches--because they are true.

Dee and I were on the Library Board together. We were colleagues. We didn't really see each other outside of that realm. But I have a deep admiration and respect for her. I always really enjoyed being around her. I know she felt similarly toward me. I trusted her judgement. I could confide in her my personal opinions or misgivings or frustration regarding things board-related, a bit unusual in a politically-charged arena. I could trust her to correct me when I was wrong, shoot my ideas down when they were stupid, support me when she thought I was onto something and fight for me when she knew I was right. She played devil's advocate to ensure that we really thought things through. This sometimes slowed down progress but I was never sorry she made me think. We always volunteered each other to do things because neither of us wanted to do it but knew the other would do things in a way we approved of. "You should be board president." "No, YOU should be board president!"

A few times we went for coffee after meetings. Most meetings we stood around afterward and talked. I thought when I started back to school I'd get to see her there. I thought we could meet for lunch. I thought I'd get to know who she was outside of the Board. I thought I'd ask her advice and she'd give me encouragement. I thought I'd talk her into being board president. I thought there would be time.

And now there's not.

And Thursday I will go to her funeral.

And in a few months somebody else I know will die of cancer. Like my grandparents and aunts. Like Amy's mom. Like Dixie and Marion. Like so many people you guys know and love.

I am sick to death of cancer.

But I will pray and pray and keep praying that those who are fighting cancer will win. Like my dad did. Like my neighbor did. Like my mother-in-law did before and is right now. Like all the people I see at the Relay for Life wearing Survivor shirts and I think, "I had no idea!" did. Because it doesn't always end poorly. But why it ever has to start is beyond me.

spring sprung

1. It is supposed to be 80ish today. Crocuses and tulips are opening up. Daylillies are pushing through.

2. I am starting week 2 of my new fitness regimen. I am alternating running and yoga daily. I do not feel the pounds melting away. I do not feel my pants getting looser. I trick myself into thinking "getting started is the hard part." And I feel smug and self-satisfied to just be out of the house in sweats and trainers. I run a block and then am amazed at all the negative thoughts that come into my mind. I want to stop running and go home. I want to stop running and go home and drink a Coke and eat a bag of M&M's. Getting started is not the hard part. I'm a good starter. I'm not so good with the follow through....which is why twice a year I say "and NOW I'm really going to get in shape and back to pre-baby weight!" and I never have and Oliver is almost FIVE. But I shall persevere. I can change my life, right?

3. I started recording yesterday! Whoop! I went over to Todd's after church and we sat in front of the recording console and he began explaining things to me and I thought, "Oh, crap." It seemed overwhelming. But then he went downstairs to wash beer bottles (he's brewing his own beer these days) and left me to it. I did great. I laid down guitar and vocal tracks for a song, then laid down two accordion tracks. The accordion tracks aren't keepers--I'll have to redo them--but I UNDERSTAND how to do that much. Now, once I have the tracks I need I'll have to figure out mixing, but that's a whole other ball of wax. Which is good. It IS a whole other ball of wax which I will deal with when the time comes.

He had the mics set up facing the corner. It had the same affect of singing in the shower, which sounded great. But I kept turning my whole body so I could see out the window. I finally rearranged the whole room so I could sing looking out the window. The sound bouncing off the glass does not have the same feel as it bouncing back off the wall, but I am much happier. Facing the corner I only had the vocal mic staring me in the face and saying "you better make this good!" But when I faced the window I could relax a little more, blur my sight a little and not focus on anything but see the green of the trees and cars moving down the street and sing a little more naturally.

I was there for about four hours yesterday and am going back as soon as Ollie goes to school. I have thought of little else since then. I'm chomping at the bit. Fun. Fun. Fun.

4. Oma and Opa have arrived to spread a little grandparent love around the house. Opa is playing "Guess Who?" with Ollie just outside my door. Paul made bacon and pancakes for breakfast. Tonight Jean & Gus will come over, I'm sure. Good stuff.

How I Spent My Spring Break by, Emily Dunbar

Thursday 6:00 am
With the kids loaded snuggly into the back of the Fit, bellies full of dramamine we set off. We made it the 2+ hours to Nebraska City (the kids slept the whole time) for breakfast at McDonalds.

Thursday 3:30 pm
After a long drive with bickering children, one of whom tried to disembark while hurtling along at 77 mph and briefly reduced me to tears, we arrive at my mom and dad's house. Hooray! We hang out, watch cable, eat dinner, catch up, whathaveyou.

Friday 11:00 am
I head off to Music Folk and play baby Taylors and baby Martins for an hour. Delightful. I'm settled on the mahogany baby Taylor whenever I have an extra couple hundred dollars sitting around for another guitar. I really would like a small one for travel (I had to go guitar-less this trip) and for when the kids start to play (becasue they WILL play--we WILL have a family band).

Friday 12:30 pm
After getting my guitar jones taken care of, I drive downtown and proveI am NOT a country bumpkin. I meet the delightful Tim at Wasabi on Washington for some conversation and fantastic sushi--no restaurants like this in Hastings.

Friday 2:30 pm
I meet my parents and kids at the St. Louis Art Museum. The kids only last an hour, which is okay. We see the Egytian sarcophogi along with the African and Polynesian art--mostly masks and carvings which they are totally into--plus some unrelated suits of armor. Then we have our obligatory and delicious trip to Ted Drewes.

Friday 6:00 pm
Off to Doug & Sandy's for dinner. The kids have a ball. Phoebe spends the night for a little girl-time with her cousin Jordan. I fear the boys will be jealous and freak out. Even though they are all sharing a bedroom at my parents, they don't notice her absense until breakfast. The fact that my mom gave them their first Transformers has them distracted and blissfully occupied.

Saturday 11:00 am
Snows all day -- giant freak-of-nature flakes that have no choice but to melt on contact with the ground. I go to Target (ahhhh) then pick up Phoebe. We meet Mom, Dad & the boys at McDonalds for a late lunch and a little Playland excercise. We had planned to go to the park but then....snow.

Saturday 6:00 pm
Doug, Sandy, Jordan and Calvin come for dinner. Calvin keeps appearing upstairs with strange bleeding cuts. No one can explain. Monday night after cleaning up the basement I find a smashed coffee mug in the carpet. Apparently Ollie was throwing toys in the air and Calvin followed suit with the closest thing at hand--a porcelin coffee cup. I asked Ollie why he didn't tell me this when we were asking how Calvin cut himself. He forgot.

Sunday 11:00 am
Church. Lunch at PJ's.

Sunday 2:00 pm
Mom and I take the kids shopping for new Crocs and (why not?) Croc jewlery. Thanks, Mom. I drop them off and head to World Market, Old Navy, The Knowledge Store and Borders and only buy a cheap rug and a game called Bananagrams.

Sunday 6:30 pm
I drive over to Nate & Gina's new house for the grand tour. We have dinner at Dewey's Pizza in downtown Kirkwood, which is now strangely metroplitan, sophisticated, and full of restaurants. Nate & I each have a wild mushroom pie and Gina opts for pepperoni (which is given the misleading name X-pepperoni). Nate takes Gina home to finish a little school work and then comes over to see his godchild, Oliver. We play Bananagrams, Transformers and Nate times the children to see how long it takes them to run around the house.

Monday 10:30 am
Grandpa takes us to the St. Louis Zoo.

Monday 3:00 pm
Naptime for me.

Monday 4:30 pm
We drive to the Shrewsbury Metrolink Station and take the train down to Laclede's Landing to eat at the Old Spaghetti Factory. This makes me want to live in the city. I say this aloud and my parents say, yes, Kirkwood has a lot to offer. I say, "No, I mean in the CITY." Oh. Dinner is good and fun. We take the Metrolink back. Five minutes into the half-hour train ride Oliver has to pee--BAD. I keep him talking to distract him but he is squirming and pinching off (if you know what I mean) and near tears. I debate taking the souvenir Old Spagetti Factory plastic cups out of my purse for him to pee in. We make it to Shrewsbury--by now Mo is in a similar state--we run down the platform, down the stairs, half way down the parking lot where they drop trough and pee in the grass. We are one classy crew.

Tuesday 6:30 am
We pile back into the Fit. Stop at the St. Louis Bread Co (Panera Bread to some of you) for a Mocha for me and pumpkin Muffies all around. Then, we hit the highway.

Tuesday 3:30 pm
After a delightful day with nearly perfectly behaved children (much to my delight and all praise to God) we arrive home. Aaaaah. Home.

Things to note:
Every morning my parents made a Starbucks run. Every night I stayed up well past midnight watching Christina Aguilera: Behind the Music and Australia's Next Top Model. This is what happens when one who normally get five channels with questionable reception on their bunny ears enter a home with digital cable. The kids watched a Dirty Job's marathon on Sunday. I feel thoroughly vacationed. Also--Paul did the math when I got home. The Fit averaged ABOVE 30 mpg for the trip. One tank hit just above 37. I'm glad we packed in!

take THAT ppst

Yesterday it got up to 77 degrees. It was beautiful. I put ABBA Gold in the cd player, got in the Fit and drove to Kearney to take the PPST.

I did the 1:15 reading section in about 20 minutes.

Then came the dreaded math. It was tough. There were a couple graphs with an X axis and a Y axis and a sloping line with the question "Which of the following equations does this graph represent?" No clue. No inkling of how to do those problems. There were a couple like this:"A student says the following is true: x y parenthesis blah blah blah. Which of the following proves the student wrong." I don't even think the MATH was that hard, but having it framed that way was very confusing to me.

There were, I think, 44 questions and 1:15 to complete it. I could skip questions or mark them for review. I was down to the wire going back over my marked and unanswered questions with the time clock flashing. There was one question involving area and perimeter that I couldn't work out--but I didn't know why. I KNOW how to figure those things, but there seemed to be two correct answers. That was very frustrating. And when I ran out of time and the math portion shut down I really didn't know where I stood.

After a fifteen minute break I did the writing multiple choice section, then the essay. My essay was a rather uninspired standardized test essay, but decent none-the-less.

Then came the scores. Out of 190 possible, I needed 171 to pass the math. I got a 182! I could hardly believe it. I'm a pretty optimistic person. I think I have pretty realistic expectations for things. And still, I thought it was a real possibility that I would not pass the math. So, WOO HOO!

After the test I went to Target--a treat because we don't have one in town. Then I went to the music shop and played a baby Taylor guitar for a while. Next I hit the Thunderhead Brewery to return my empty growlers bottles and pick up two new growlers: Dubble and IPA. The Thunderhead makes fantastic beer, brewed right here in central Nebraska, to be taken home in glass gallon jugs. It's so great.

I cranked ABBA back up and drove home to find Paul grilling on the patio. We had burgers and BBQ potato chips. A little after eight Todd & Cody and Clay & Susie came over to celebrate. We opened the aforementioned growlers and sat in the backyard until it got chilly. Clay and Susie brought be a book. Todd & Cody brought me a bag of thrifted Scrabble tiles--the uses for which are endless.

I feel so relieved. This was my last hurtle to jump through for grad school--now I just have to wait for my (please) acceptance letter. I had been dangling the carrot of recording a cd in front of me and now I can. Thursday the kids and I drive off to St. Louis.

I'm a happy girl.

Save the drama for your Mama? No thank you. Save it for someone else.

While I am tempted to cut to the chase, I must start this story at the beginning. I was in the backyard with the kids when a hawk flew low across the yard into our big pine tree. He was carrying a mammal of some sort in his talons. As many of you know, this sort of thing is cause for great excitement at our house. I told the kids to freeze and went in to get Paul.

We went in and watched from the window for a while, passing binoculars around and then headed slowly and quietly outside with binocs, scope, & camera. It was pretty cool. After a few minutes the kids wandered back to what they were doing. I decided to take a walk. Paul, of course, sat there for at least an hour watching the hawk devouring what turned out to be a ground squirrel. Here are some photos he took:

When I got back from my walk--I went about 2-1/2 miles (how long would that take?)--Paul, Phoebe & Ollie were all laying on their bellies right next to the tree watching the hawk from freakishly close. I walked up and asked where Moses was. Nobody knew.

I walked in the back door (with Paul a few steps behind me) and called his name. I came into the living room and there he stood all wide-eyed and panicky.


"Mom, I just called 911! I called 911! I couldn't find anybody so I called 911!"


I stared at him and saw no blood. I looked the room over and saw no fire or intruders. I thought something awful must have happened, he needed help, he couldn't find anybody and called 911. After brief questioning and observation we discover that the emergency WAS that he couldn't find us.


I grabbed the phone and called 911 myself.

"Hastings 911. Where is your emergency?"
"I don't actually have an emergency, but my son just called from ### Chestnut Ave."
"Yes, ma'am he did."
"He couldn't find us and panicked, but we are all here. We were in the back yard. Everything is okay. There is no emergency."
"Thank you ma'am. I'll let the authorities know."


At first, this all made good sense. Paul and the other kids had been laying on their bellies, quietly, under the pine tree for who-knows-how-long. You'd think Mo would know we wouldn't ever LEAVE him, but I could imagine looking the house and yard over and not seeing anybody and freaking out.


I'm not sure 911 would have been my first option, what with our very helpful and friendly neighbors outside....

But as it turns out, Phoebe and Ollie had been outside with Paul for about 5 minutes. The three kids had been playing in the front yard (where they wouldn't scare the hawk away). Phoebe and Ollie went into the back yard to see Paul. Moses went inside and had some crazy lapse of time and judgement and called 911.


Moses SAID he walked around the outside of the house looking. He SAID he called out Paul's name. It just doesn't add up. Standing in the kitchen talking about all this I could see EXACTLY where they were watching the hawk through the window. Our yard is not so big that they wouldn't have heard Mo even if he had been just walking and not yelling....and they were laying there quietly so as not to scare the hawk away so if Moses had yelled HE would have scared the hawk away and everyone would have been aware of the fact that he was out there looking for them.


I don't understand AT ALL why he was so freaked out. (You may have caught on by now that Moses is sometimes off in his own world.) I do, however, understand that his fear and panic were real. He wasn't being naughty--not calling 911 to see what happened, to get attention, or just get a rise out of everybody. He was REALLY scared. So, I suppose, he did the right thing...but c'mon...911?


After I got off the phone and we got some answers out of him he just bawled. He cried and cried, poor thing. When he settled down we talked about what to do if such a thing happened again (ie: actually look for your parents, not call 911 straight away). We commended him for knowing how to call 911, give them the information they needed, tell them what the emergency was--he really did a good job at that. We reassured him that we would never just leave without telling him. We waited for a police car to show up just to check on us--it never did.


And now I have to stifle the urge to make jokes about it. Every time there is any sort of problem--like Moses couldn't find his tennis shoes--I want to say, "You can't find your shoes?! We better call 911!!" But I have refrained...for now.

shout out

So, my friend Todd Brown is making a move. He is a great singer/songwriter and all around good guy. He now has a cd to promote and tomorrow he gets to promote on Nebraska Public Radio's Friday Live.

We've been playing in the same circle (both literal and figurative) for a couple of years--both of us enjoying writing, playing locally, and dreaming of what we might do with our music. And the time has come for Todd to move on it and it's very exciting. I can't wait to see what happens.

Admittedly, I'm jealous, but I plan to ride his coattails. I'm actually using Todd's recording equipment to put a cd together as soon as I take the PPST (MONDAY!). So in my afteroons I'll be hitting the spare room at Todd and Cody's and recording.

Go to Todd's new myspace digs; listen to the songs he has up; then email him and say you want to buy his cd. It's good stuff.