They split the cost of the pogo stick and bounced the afternoon away. N refused to co-invest and is banned from pogoing until she divies up two dollars. I think it's fair fare for a rusty pogo. Other finds at the DI included a swimsuit for M and some shorts.

Skipped two bridal showers, but didn't feel too guilty about it. Slept on the grass while M and A played at the splash park(I only take children who finish their jobs in the allotted times). Napped again once we got home. Tacos for dinner. Walked through the neighborhood holding hands with Scott. Weeded garden. Scratched goats. Tucked in kids. Trying not to feel too guilty about not taking back my primary class. Not really ready to teach, but not really wanting to go to Relief Society either.

It is a really good home teacher that will bring a green cheerio to band your goat. Who knew male kids become virile at three months? It's been the source of many a discussion this week at our house. You do have to feel bad for Whiteout with his weak little blaaaaaaaaaaah.

Covered the rest of the garden with large sheets of cardboard, cut holes and planted a mass of squash-ish vegetables: spaghetti squash, acorn squash, black and yellow zucchini, butternut squash, and two types of pumpkins. It's a lot of squash considering only M and I eat it. C eats it on a rare occasion. I'm thinking the neighbors will want to start locking their doors come August.

It was the last day of school. The kids are excited so far, but I'm trying to decide how to structure the summer jobs. Oh yeah, it's gonna be a great summer.

I'm 80% sure Sweet Pea is going to have kids. Her little teats are a little bigger, and she is rounding out. I can't hardly wait because she had triplets last summer.

It looks like we ended up with 4 roosters. There's not much of a market for roosters, so they'll probably end up as chicken soup. Hmmm.... isn't it interesting that most of the male gendered animals end up banded or boiled?

Blaaaaaah........

I'm not happy about Scott being put on high dose prednisone to control the IBD, but the other just hasn't been working. They call it inflammatory bowel disease because they don't really know what it is, and it's not solidly fitting into any diagnoses. At least Scott is managing it all a bit better and seems to finally be recovering from the surgeries. We're not doing perfectly, but better.

As always, it's a pleasure to spend the evening with Jan and Bill. Good food, good company, and great support. Thank you.

Mindy and Gary gave us a big TV and a DVD/VCR player from her parents' house. So, I took the 10+ year old, little TV to the porch and embedded a hammer in the screen with a "Happy Re-Birthday" note knowing it would achieve several things.

I was not disappointed with Scott's reaction although it scared him a bit more than I had anticipated. The kids were equally shocked, but thrilled with the new "theatre" (it's much bigger than our old TV). It made for a fun day not likely to be forgotten.

Really, I've always wanted to do that.

It's mostly from pms, but you never recognize it as the source of your brains screaming three days straight until they stop. And the extreme landscape of emotion has only been accentuated by Scott's re-birthday; the 1 year anniversary of his liver transplant. I hadn't anticipated this milestone being so traumatic. I guess, I'm hoping it's mostly from pms, as I prefer to not stay this way forever. My family prefers that also.

At least, the afternoon was pleasant: picnicking beside Grandma's grave, eating dinner at Mom's, visiting with family.

I know better than to comment in Relief Society when they are talking about something so dear to my heart. So I sat thinking about the dozens conversations the kids and I have had over the last two years with the basic gist of this:

"Is Dad going to die?"
No. I've been comforted that he will not die, but that it will be really hard. Even if he does happen to die, it doesn't matter. We've been sealed in the temple. We are a forever family. We are only here a little while, anyway. Everyone dies, and that's OK.

I heard them parrot that answer back to each other; reassuring each other with great faith and support. Not unlike Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, they emerged primarily unscathed from the searing flames of Hell. And it was their unwavering faith in God, Jesus Christ, and the temple blessings that protected them.

I could never verbalize all that without bawling my head off. So, I just held it in; crying mostly through my nose through the lesson. But then, I had been asked to say the closing prayer and the emotion just poured out in great sobs while I tried to end the meeting.

No, nothing is wrong. I'm just grateful to have had my family sealed for the eternities; to have been carried thus far through such high heat.

Have you ever considered that the only burdens you carry are those you chose to shoulder by yourself? Not that there are ever a lack of crushing weights, just a lack of willingness to set it down and let the Savior take it on.

I feel like a child collecting rocks, but forgetting to put them into the path by the garden. It gets heavy and messes up the wash besides.

It was a trap.

Soooo...... who exactly is in charge of the finances?
"You are?"
Who exactly is in charge of cooking?
"Uh, you are?"
Who is in charge of the laundry?.......

Madchen's eyes got big. She knew, first, where this was going. But they all caught on pretty quickly.

The animals?
"YOU are."

The tone more resigned and monotone, now..............

Car repairs?
"you are."
Watering the lawn?
"you are."
And just who do you think will have a nervous breakdown soon if she doesn't get more help?
"Uh, you will?"

The mantle of stewardship needs to take a serious shift at my house. The adjustment is sure to be a bit painful. The forecast: stormy with intermittent mushroom clouds over South Rexburg.

I wonder if I should pack a rescue inhaler. I could borrow John August's. I can just imagine myself having an exercise induced asthma attack right in front of Naomi's 6th grade class. She's so excited and begged, begged me to chaperon the trip up R mountain. That's fine. I'll live, but I refuse to ride the bus with 60 shrieking monkeys.

Refuse.

How satisfying to find that it is well over half done, ten of the sixteen squares. Hopefully, it won't take another two years to finish. I love that an occasional knot out of a tidy spool of thread can add up to something so stunningly beautiful. It makes me think I shouldn't be so irked about being unraveled and tied in knots every now and then.

Scott had a good day. He's working on a new felting and embroidery technique for illustrating digitally. He must be doing much better to feel good enough to work, again. Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry it was a permanent gig, this purgatory.

So, Ginger is definitely not a willing participant in the new adventure, and the Little Tykes play set is not working out as a milking stanchion, and at it's best there are little red hairs all over in the milk. Do people just strain those out and drink it anyway? She's a goat. Naturally, there are clumps of poo in her hair. Hmmm....... I think it was great fun to dream about making goat cheese, and have no problem allowing her to dry up. No loss, and the kids have some fun memories of wresting the goat down and pinching out milk. Poor Ginger. No wonder she doesn't want to play.

On to the next adventure...... EVERYONE home all day and all summer long.

Yesterday, we separated the does from the little buckling who I thought was too young for such aggressive behaviors. The mother goat has been bleating ever since, and I thought it was because she missed him. But no, it took me till tonight to notice her milk bags were tight, and she was desperate for relief. Here, I thought he was all weaned.

Scott will have nothing of it in any way, but we milked Ginger and it was great fun. The kids were amazed. Even Mindy from next door got in on it and did well for her first try. No one is keen on drinking the milk. I wonder if we will get enough to make cheese or butter.

Hmmm...... we could make soap. I wonder if Scott would use goat soap.

A knight on a shiny, red lawn mower.

"I just haven't been able to find words since my last stroke on Sunday."

My dear neighbor had been trying to say that we are the same; we're both eccentrics. I avoided filling in the obvious truths by thanking him again for his services, and he rode away feeling gallant: a knight on a shiny, red, Toro lawn mower.

His hospice nurse comes on Mondays. I wonder if she is as surprised as I am every time he makes it through another week. Honestly, I am perfectly capable of mowing the front lawn (the back lawn has been delegated to the goats). But, it would have terribly been cruel to deny him the joy of being needed, especially at this hour of his game, and it made him so happy. Besides, it really did help me to not have to deal with the lawn today.

I took 6 months of soured milk jugs to the recycling, and month old garbage to the dump, and Scott's fecal samples to the lab. So, while yesterday was crappy, today was only smelly.

I'll take that.

Scott ate 2313 calories, today.

I'll take that, too.

Cried all through the session. Came home just in time to pull the tube out of Scott's nose when it bunched up in his throat as he threw up. Cried. Talked with Salt Lake. Cried some more. Asked God where he might be. Cried. Kirsten dropped by to tell me that God knew I needed a hug and is mindful. Cried. Tamina sent rolls. Cried. Mindy fed the kids. Cried. Mom called. Took a bawl break. Randy brought manure and dirt for the garden. Doing better. Renae brought me some Dr Pepper. Better still. Scott not in pain or nauseated after eating a bagel. Relief. Did not have to go to the ER. A gift. Kids healthy; in bed. Thank you, Lord, and thank you for ending this day.

It was well worth the effort of making egg rolls tonight. I'm glad we had company to share it with. And I'm glad Scott was able to eat a bit, even if it didn't stay with him for very long.

I purchased 30 boxes of bandaids and 36 boxes of feminine protection pads for $48, today- normal retail value: $300. It was a good coupon fix. One of the keys to living abundantly is that you give away half of everything you acquire for free, and at least 10% of everything you pay not so much for. So if you need some let me know.

Thank you, Bev. It is an exquisite gift. Really, wow.

Thank you, Carol. I love love the footsie vase and flowers Charlotte brought home from your preschool for Mother's Day. Also, it's been a joy being in scouts with you.

Thank you, Emi and Kirsten, for dragging me to laugh a whole hour twice a week.

Thank you for the phone calls and emails, and your prayers, and the breads, and the soups, and your simple friendships. Most especially, thank you for your prayers.

The word from Salt Lake is that, "......these things take time." My nerves are grated on the fine side meant for orange rinds with this. It doesn't feel right, and I don't like it. We are going down loaded with information gathered off the web in two weeks. I can't handle any more, "It sucks to be you." appointments. We had enough of those pre-transplant. I can't even express how I loathe this state of medical limbo.

Scott is maintaining, at least. He ate socially over the weekend. I guess, I'm going to have to put him in more social situations if I want him to eat anything. He really is trying but is frustrated. Everything seems to just gag him.

It was a good weekend, and is leaning towards a nice week with the kids.

It is pretty cool all finished granted I still need to fine a cover for where the top boards meet. I would post a picture, but really can't since I don't even post pictures of my children (note to Emi that I on purpose did not say kids) and to post something, but not the most important somethings seems wrong and I'm just too lazy to post pictures, anyway. So, you'll just have to come see the new chicken tractor in person at our house. It's a child's play toy, really, with little doors and twist handles and a ramp for the chickens to get up to the roost. The chickens seem to love it.

There are these things that are completely out of my realm of control so I'm not even going to try. It's a waste of my energy. So, I'm going to transplant the tomatoes into bigger pots, and thin out the flower seedlings; haul in enough rotted straw for the new garden bed (I'm trying out square foot gardenining); and feed grain pellets to the goats who are always happy to see me and eat whatever I feed them. There's the kids' band concert at 11:30, and RAD kids at the fire department at 1:00, and the girls are doing baptisms at 4:30. Too many pleasant distractions to be fretting over the obvious. At least, that is the lie I am telling myself, today.

"I told the boys at preschool that MY dad eats through his nose. They said that's awesome! I told them it was NOT awesome." Her delivery was priceless.

It's really not awesome at my house, but at least the day was tolerable. Of course, I couldn't get any work done with a high wind advisory. S0, I napped and read a book while Charlotte played at Sophie's. We all spent the evening in Rigby. Scott was forced to eat since his mother cooked dinner, and was watching to see if he would. And we visited with Grandma Turner. So, it was a fine day- not an awesome 15th wedding anniversary, but fine enough.

My good face is wearing off and I can't find the spare. Consider yourself warned.

Day two of waiting for the Dr to call back. No, Scott is not any better. Yes, I am tired. No, I did not get anything done today. Yes, the chickens are still cooped up without a run.

Any other questions? Talk to the hand.

Ok, so it's sad that the chick died, but does anyone else think it is funny that a five-toed chick named Cinco died on the 5th of May?

The chicken tractor is mostly finished, so I put the chicks in the roost for the night with the door closed. They huddled in the corner, anyway. Maybe a little more space doesn't make any difference to them.

It should be a busy, but good day: a play, babysitting, catch up on laundry a bit, find something that Scott would eat....... that's pushing it. Better just stick with the achievable.

Maybe, I should have told her about the time I got up to give the closing prayer for ward conference, started to cry and ran out of the chapel. I was terribly sick, anyway, but it was the catalyst for a yearlong nervous breakdown.

The advantage of having been a basket case so many times over, is that you eventually learn that life just cycles through those times naturally. It's nothing personal; just life. And if you can hang on and wait, the tide eventually turns back enough for your head to pop up and breathe.

The rains came down. The floods came up. And the house on the rock stood still.

You'll be fine. Be still.

Went to church. Skipped the nursing home. Napped. Ate super tamales at Renae's.

Hoping Madchen doesn't break her neck on the rollerblades; Scott tolerates the feeding tube and feels better; the chicken tractor finishes up nicely; the new goats are more friendly; the sun shines a lot; the garden goes in great............ lots of hope for another week.

Pfft..... another week.

Scott has had transient nausea, but it seems to have eased off. It would be a bad thing for him to barf up a feeding tube.

Other than that, Charlotte is lispily losing her third tooth. Scott is becoming an expert origami-ist. Madchen is turning 14... eeeek. Naomi knows what Madchen is getting and can hardly hold the secret. John August is upset he was sent to bed early. And me? I'm just happy to be here not in crisis; not on the edge; not totally nuts.

Madchen and Naomi barfed all morning. No sweat. Madchen still barfing. No sweat. Tried to fix fence. Bolts too big. No sweat. Garden boxes fell apart when I moved them. No sweat. Chicken tractor plans were deceptively simple looking. No sweat. Didn't get finished. No sweat. Scott walking the neighborhood looking better. Love it. He still hates the feeding tube. I don't care. Barbara brought me rotisserie chicken. I laughed and feel loved. Mindy next door is also barfing. Offered her some suppositories. Kirsten called. Yes, I'm doing much better. Twelve hours of sleep does wonders.