the adventures of Curt and Katie Mulder

Now, y'all just settle down.

2009-01-26T07:00:00.002-05:00

Hi, Folks.

We're taking a field trip today.

CLICK HERE

Our adventures will now be posted over at http://texasnorth.wordpress.com/

Or, simply, http://texasnorth.com/

Come play!

what keeps me going

2009-01-22T08:27:00.004-05:00

Yucky blah blah blah... it's not pretty around here. My attitude, my body, my motivation, the weather... not great combinations. There are a couple of things that are saving me:

1. To Kill A Mockingbird :: I am re-reading this slowly. I want to catch everything. I am in love with this girl Scout. She is everything I could have been as a child if I'd had an older brother to corral my confidence. Harper Lee is brilliant and may earn herself a child named after her if I have my way.

2. Starbursts

3. Everything on this website. I go here daily and pretend I'm ordering. Today, I'd like the sleeping bag in cowboy print. Thank you.

3. The HDTV commercial with the woman in a suit and heels jogging... I tried to find a YouTube of it, but no luck. Do you know what I'm talking about? She runs up to a stranger and starts talking about her new service... and then she pauses and yells, "I'm puuuumped!" Oh my word. I wait every night for a viewing of this commercial and I gutlaugh every time. It's so completely my favorite thing right now.

Since I couldn't find that clip, I'll leave you with my Beauty... who is the best thing goin' these days:

Y'all have a good weekend and be good, ok? Send me some Starbursts.

To whom it may concern,

2009-01-19T07:46:00.003-05:00

To whom it may concern,

Katie has gone on a road trip for the day.

She got up early, put on real clothes, and went out into the real world.

She would appreciate your positive thoughts in the following areas:

not eating anything before purchase at Traders Joe's,

not falling asleep in any of the Ikea displays,

and not yelling at people to walk on the right side of the aisles.

Please, Lord, let her be a decent human being today in public.

Regularly scheduled blog-programming will resume on Thursday,

Love,

I have done it.

2009-01-15T07:48:00.007-05:00

Deuce Update: Baby #2 is 9+ weeks along... no discernible heartbeat yet which is normal. I'm +5 pounds. Doc says everything looks fabulous and don't forget to lay off the street drugs for the duration of my pregnancy. Good to know. Next appointment is February 3rd. Trying Unisom and vitamin B6 for the evening nausea issues. Craving: cheese like it's going out of style.

I now own an article of clothing that will define me in Ry's childhood. A couple months ago, I found the coat that could last me a considerable clothing-lifetime, and after a well-executed discussion with The Boy purchased it and floated out of the store.

It's Pata-gucchi, and I'm not afraid to admit it. When I buy long-term, I don't mess around. Lisa, you understand. I've never had such a lovely coat. Dressy but warm but cute but waaaaaaaarm. My history as a tomboy and non-clothes horse have left me with a number of sporty coats, but none that combine both form and fashion. This coat... this coat is genius. I'll wear it forever. It will join the ranks of my Chacos and Danskos, both of which will celebrate 10+ years with me this Fall. This will be the coat that Ry remembers when she's 35... "Yeah, Ma... you had this long black coat you wore all winter long. Not your barn coat... a nicer one. You wore it everywhere. All the time. When I think of you, I think of that black coat."

And I'll say, "Rylie, please. Memories tend to change a bit over time. It wasn't black. It was gun metal, which is so much cooler."

What will you be remembered for?

Mom, you are Chanel No°5 and purple Birkenstocks and grading papers.

Dad, you are shoe polish, motor oil (in a good way), and ketchup on eggs.

Mamma feels like poo.

2009-01-12T07:44:00.006-05:00

Tomorrow is my first OB visit for Baby #2 (who desperately needs a code name). I have many questions already... namely why I seem to have skipped to the third trimester in sleep deprivation, food obsession, bathroom frequency, and jean-size by week 9. I'll let you know.

To keep my mind off the seasickness, I've been planning a trip to Trader Joe's and Ikea on MLK Day. As Laura said, "I can think of no better way to honor Dr. King's memory than by purchasing flat-packed Scandinavian furniture and organic rice pasta." Laura is often quotable. It's easy to like her.

One of my resolutions this year is to get serious about recycling. Initially, we paid the $14 extra a month to our trash company for the blue recycling box... but it filled rarely inconsistently. The walk to the end of the driveway was too long for a peanut butter jar and an empty can of corn. Plus, they only accepted 2 kinds of plastic. Petty, I know... but we rarely do things that are not easy or efficient or decorated well. A quick look at the closest transfer station revealed that trip of larger proportions every other month would allow me to recycle everything. EVERYTHING. If I could make a planned 26-mile trip to Rockford (um, Corner Bar hot dogs anyone?) every once in awhile, I could rid myself of some serious guilt. I'm gaining weight in every area these days. The guilt has got to go.

This means, of course, that I need cute, purposeful containers. Three, I think: a bin for metal, a bin for all plastic, a bin for glass. Paper will continue to go in a paper bag.

I also need/want some air-tight glass jars for simplicity. Brown sugar, rice, multiple pastas, soups, cornmeal, and Bisquick will all find new homes in jars that can live on the counter top or in the freezer or in the cabinets. Their original packaging will be recycled, of course.

It's something most people do already, I know. It's something TexasNorth will do better this year. I'm ready to shift gears. Does your community have a good/easy/friendly recycling system?

I also need these tins.
NEED.

So, happy Monday to you! I hope this week promises you many laughs and much health and an exorbitant amount of *really* good bread.

Oh my word, it's Thursday.

2009-01-08T09:24:00.007-05:00

I swear, this baby in me is sucking the common sense life out of me. I'm losing my mind. My MIND, People. It will not let me sleep. It will not let me eat. It will not let me watch bad tv. But thank you so much for your excitement and your cheering and your carrying-on. From the bottom of my Texas Heart, thank you.

We've been trying over a year for Baby #2. The answer kept coming back, 'No.' While I preach and generally live by the 'Let it Be' philosophy, I find that extreme trial tends to bring out my Justice Complex. You know... the 'Hello, we're doing everything ~~right~~ the best we can so give me a baby! a vacation! a new church! red leather pants!' type conversations. Brilliant conversations to have with the Creator of the Universe, by the way. 'Hey, I think you're doing a crummy job.' says I. 'Oh yeah? Right back at-cha, Darlin'.'

I forget- every time, I forget- that I am living on borrowed time. I am spending borrowed money. I am raising a borrowed child and tending to borrowed land. It is not mine. They are all graciously given to me through no accomplishment of my own. In fact, if I were personally audited, I'd be given a one-way ticket to The Bad Lands... cause: Not Living Up to Fullest Potential and also BEING A WHINER. So, no audits. I take what I get. By grace, by Grace, I am blessed.

I am pregnant. And, I am joyful. I am scared and sick and thrilled... but I am joyful. I wonder what Child He is sending my way this time? Please let it be healthy and safe. And also, please let Curt let me name it Tess.

And please don't let it be a Little Curt.
We none of us are ready for that.

***

Sunday, Darling... you want your perfect tree to live forever. Here you go:

materials: kitchen or pruning scissors, florist wire, old wreath, lovely evergreen boughs
All materials can also be found with a quick trip to your local Michaels or Hobby Lobby.

1. Grab your old wreath off the front door. Curse yourself for the shabby shape it's in.

2. Trim your evergreen boughs until you have a nice stack to choose from. Grab your wire. Note: I used silver because it was on-hand, but there's also green which would blend in better.

3. Begin by laying one or two evergreen pieces down on the wreath with the stems sticking to your right. Grab your spool of wire and wrap around entire piece... wreath and boughs together. Continuing to your right, lay more boughs over the previous stems wrapping the wire as you go. The wire, from the front, will disappear into the branches. No worries.

4. Continue all the way around your wreath until it's as full as you'd like. Maybe add some holly berries to brighten it up a bit. That's it, Folks! Oldest trick in the book.

Love to you all... have a fabulous weekend.

hit and miss

2009-01-05T08:00:00.002-05:00

Well, I made it to Pennsylvania, but Ry's still not talkin'. I did turn 32 in fine fashion with dinner and a movie, but it was not with Laura. I picked out stuff for the website design but made no contacts. The pillows and store update were always 'next' on my list, but then another rerun of Friends would come on and my motivation would fly right out the window. I started a sleeve on my lovely sweater, but it's not wearable yet. Esau's kin are having a heck of a time right now in the Middle East, so I failed on that one, too. The only thing I did manage to do was get pregnant. Smurf yourself a smile... did I get'cha?

Oh, Friends. It's so very early to be telling you, but I'm so very excited... and also scared to death. Baby #2 will arrive around August 17th... so I'm about 7 weeks along and definitely feeling it. I was the picture of annoying health with Ry, but this time around I'm seasick as all get out. There's been no *output*, per se, though I do feel that occasional physical proof of the nausea would help those around me understand that this is real. But, in the big picture, I am feeling just absolutely fine and cannot complain. We covet your prayers and well-wishes during this crucial time of development for the Little One. I am thankful to ride this out with all of you.

Happy New Year to you all.
It's so very good to be back in this little space.
See you Thursday...

T'was

2008-12-17T21:52:00.008-05:00

I love that word.

The Mulders of TexasNorth will celebrate Christmas on Christmas morning. Stockings may be dug into before the parents wake up (though Ry can't reach hers), but the rest must wait until everyone is awake. Pjs all day are perfectly acceptable if not expected. There will be ham and scalloped potatoes and green beans for an early dinner, and some college football will be watched. That's how we do it around here. Is it close to yours? The cows and chickens still have to be fed, but we will check extra hard to see if there is a Messiah in the hay manger. You just never know. If you haven't read The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, you simply have to this year. It's not long, and it will have you laughing and sobbing all at the same time. It's one of my very favorite things.

However you celebrate this Season, we wish you the very very best. TexasNorth is going to take a little Christmas Vacation of its own until the New Year. I know that's dangerous in Blog World. I will lose readers who are only here for my body. But, for the rest of you, you know my heart is true. I'll be back. Don't forget me!

I have a list of things I'd like to do while I'm gone:
1. get pregnant
2. work on the new texasnorth.com website design
3. sew some new pillows
4. celebrate a birthday
5. teach Rylie to talk
6. visit some family in Pennsylvania
7. finish my sweater I've been knitting since October
8. go to a movie with The Boy
9. go to a movie with Laura
10. revamp the neglected etsy store
11. bring Peace to the Arab nations

Lofty goals, I know... but I have great faith.
We love you very much here at TexasNorth.
So very very much.
See you on the 5th!

fish

2008-12-15T07:38:00.011-05:00

My father is off hunting today with some guys from Lansing. I'm really ok with the fact that he has more friends than I do.

Let's talk about these Letters to Rylie. Your response to them is so encouraging. I have always expressed myself best in writing. Please take this into account upon meeting me. Writing is very safe and requires little eye contact. When Rylie was born, I wanted very much to keep track of the little things and the big things, but I am not the 'baby book' kind of girl. Letters seemed most natural. I put them in a real envelope with a real stamp and I mail them... back to her. Someday, I'll give her a box and she'll be able to see the postage and my handwriting and read a little of what her life was like through my eyes.

Words are powerful. Handwriting is scarce these days and will be even more so when our kiddos are grown. I encourage you to do some writing of your own. Start now. Send postcards or letters or concert tickets. Save the envelopes in a box or photo album dedicated to your little one so they are easily found. Letters are concrete pieces of time. Don't try too hard. You don't have to be a poet or funny or spell well... you just have to write. Go for it.

Dear Rylie,

You and and I grocery shop on Tuesdays after your therapy pre-school... around 10:30am. The store is relatively empty, which helps with my sanity and also allows you to run through the aisles with wild abandon. This is also the time that a small group of special-needs adults shops with their mentors. Always with lists in hand, they buy their food for the week and chat about what's on tv that night. We've come to recognize almost everyone.

In the back of our store is a set of aquariums where hundreds of fish swim round and round. You love these fish. Every one of them. FSSSSSSSS, you say. It's awesome.

I have little pride when it come to you, Dearest. Two weeks ago, I found myself lying on the floor of the milk aisle prying you loose from the bottom of the cart. You wanted to be where the dog food was... and got seriously stuck. A better mom would have prevented this entire scene... but you do the funniest things, Child! Whatever you need. Anytime. Last Tuesday, we headed to the back to see the fssssssssss. We slowly walked around the kiosk, carefully looking in each tank of fish. When we got back to the beginning of our circle, you crouched down in your catcher's squat and began tugging violently at my jeans. You wanted me to join you... down there. Whatever you need. Anytime.

We sat there for a good 5 minutes, Ry. Me and you. Watching the fsssssss. Pointing at the fssssss. Clapping for the fsssssssss. Our claps were much louder than I expected. As I turned around, I found that 3 of our Special Friends had joined us on the floor. And there we all were. Taking a break. Cheering for Nemo. Sitting on a nasty floor in Meijer with not a care in the world.

I, of course, started crying. First, because you're awesome and then because of our sweet 'guests' and then because of the nasty floor. You're amazing, Ry. Technically, you are still a year behind your peers in motor and speech skills. But you continue to thrive in your own little world. You make me do things I never thought I would, you make me think things I never thought I could, and you make me a better person for all of it. Thanks for bringing up to your level.

Love, Mamma

bit fat sigh

2008-12-11T07:26:00.006-05:00

[A] Yes, Virginia, we do go to McDonalds in Greenville. But alas, we have never been back in the evening to eavesdrop on Frank and the Boys. Thank you for confirming that it was a hysterical time and place... that old-man humor can transcend even the flat scope of internet communication. I wish you'd all been there. It would have changed your life.

[B] Thank you for sharing in the chaos of the Season with me on Monday and coughing up some of your tricks. No tree (Mandi, I had no idea!)! Happy Holiday cards to give yourself until New Years! Limited presents! Medication! Ok, so the last one is maybe just for me. But thank you. I realize most of the expectations and let-downs are mine and mine alone. I just need to get. over. it.

[C] The Ugg boots from this morning are in the process of being tried on and tested. If you'd like be in line in case they don't work out, let me know. Chestnut Uggs, size 7, $50, very gently used... too big for me. You should be a size 8 or 8.5 to wear them. Picture here, but the short version... maybe half as tall.

[D] Sound the trumpets. Grandpap comes today. He is currently making his way up from the traditional Sebeck Family layover in St. Louis and will be here at nap time. Rylie may actually squeal with excitement. Many of you have met 'Mister Dan.' He's a gruff retired ARMY, Steeler-born, blue collar, grease monkey who is absolutely magical with children. I don't know what it is about that man... perhaps his honesty, or his ornery-ness, or his charm... but he wins them over every single time.

Pap (middle) with younger brother Tommy (left) and older brother Gene (right)

Rylie, of course, is no exception... although she won him over pretty quick, too. Pahhhhp, as she calls him, talks to her every day- usually twice. They talk about cows and chickens and ravioli and occasionally politics. The conversations are short.

It's been a rough month for me emotionally with a lot of Rylie-therapy drama and evaluations and snow and temper tantrums and switching to a big-girl bed. I have never been so thrilled to have company in my life. Dad comes this afternoon, and Mom will fly in after she sends her 2nd grade class off to Christmas Break (Grammy will get her own post then). I need someone to love on my child unconditionally... with no expectations and no prodding. Curt, Grammy, and I will take a far backseat to Pap for the next three weeks, but that's ok. I will watch with absolute Joy as she falls in love with him all over again. She's got a lot of him in her... that Sebeck charm and mischief. It's pretty great.

So get up here, Old Man. She's waitin' by the window.

the Holidays

2008-12-08T07:22:00.002-05:00

Alright, so I'm panicking a little bit. It's December 8th and I'm not doing so hot on my shopping/creating for gifting. Then there's the question of what's financially appropriate and who do you send cards to and when do you buy the tree and did your husband rsvp to his company Christmas party for the two of you which is this weekend? Let the season begin.

I'd love to know how you do this month. Give me a little perspective, would ya? We are ambushed with multiple birthdays (ahem, mine included) along with the other Days of Mention, so it's a crazy money/time/fruitcake time. It is the time of fruitcake. There's an awful lot to cram into a single month, and emotions run very high. Plaster that smile on and head on out into Winter. It's time to get your Holiday Face on.

The Boy and I have decided not to exchange gifts between the two of us this year for Christmas. Ry will be bombarded with love and happiness from all directions, so she's covered. Do you buy gifts for your friends? How do you decide? The same thing for everyone? Do you write a letter every year? Do you send it to your 5th cousin's roommate who came to your wedding? I love me some letters and pictures, but I'm already so late this year. Hmmmmm. We'll get our tree this weekend, have an extended-family Christmas on Christmas Eve and then our own TexasNorth Christmas on Christmas Day.

If you are shopping this year, may I remind you that handmade and/or local is the way to go? [101 Reasons to buy Handmade] I'd also like to say that love can be very simple... like a fresh loaf of homemade bread in a handmade towel? Don't freak out, Folks. All you do is take a scrap of really fun fabric, cut it out to kitchen towel size using one of your own as a guide, and then zigzag the edges. If that's scary to you but you like the idea, I know people who can help you. Get to it! Everyone will be so impressed, and it will cost you less than $2 per gift. LOVE.

Whatever you do, make it mean something.

And Ry would like to remind all of you to bundle up.

Baby, it's cold outside!

I don't know if this will work.

2008-12-04T07:15:00.001-05:00

I've had this conversation brewing in my mind for months now... I surely will not do it justice. You will have to imagine me telling you this story out loud, all animated and accented... perhaps that will save it from being a "I guess you had to be there" kind of thing.

[setup] A particular evening in July found us with no power within 30 miles. Word had it that the far side of Greenville had power. When The Boy arrived home a bit early, I suggested we head out to McDonalds for dinner. It was only 5:30pm, still relatively light outside, and we could not open our fridge or freezer without fear of losing the contents to the Summer heat. So, McDonalds it was.

Apparently, Tuesday evenings at the Greenville McDonalds is a standing date for 5 much-older gentlemen. They all wandered in within minutes of each other, ordered their meals, and took a seat next to each other at the window counter. The following conversation was overheard and later participated in by me... and I will try to re-enact it as faithfully as I can.

George (the leader)
Joe (the silent one)
Frank (the singer)
Mike
Earl

Mike: You got power, Frank?
in quick reply, Frank bursts into song: I've got power, power, ev'r lastin' power... in the LOOOORD, in the LOOOOOOOORD.

[The lights in McDs flicker wildly, foreshadowing the complete outage that would come in another 15 minutes or so.]

Earl: Did you SEE that?!
Frank raises his hands and begins to sing again: I saw the light! I saw the light! Praise the LOOOOOOOOOORD, I saw the light.

[Silent Joe joins him by clapping in-time. We are, apparently, having a revival. The other men continue over the serenade. This must happen all the time.]

Earl: They got batt'ries on sale at the store.
Mike: I don't shop there. That man is a Kor-REEN.
Frank: Frederick Meijer is Korean?
George, to Mike: He was born right here where yer sittin', you old fool.
Frank, snickering: In McDonalds?
George: Nah. In Greenville, you ol' bat. Greenville! The birthplace of Meijer!
Mike: Heh?
George: He's DUTCH.
Mike: I'm talkin' about Kenny Wong. He owns the grocery on the corner.
Frank: Well, if he's Wong, I don' wanna be right.
Earl: Kenny Wong is Korean.
Mike: Thas' what I said!
George: Well, you can go get your batt'ries at Meijer, then.
Mike: I will. I WILL, dagnabbit.
Frank: Batt'ries are MADE in Korea. Maybe you outta check with Kenny.
Earl: I been to Korea. Long time ago.

[Curt returns with our order and then heads to the restroom. Save it. Our family has no fear of public restrooms.]

George turns to me abruptly and points: YOU are not from here.
Me: No, Sir. We live in Belding... but the power's out there, too.
Frank: BELDING?
Me: Yes, sir.
George: Well, you're not a native, that's fer sure. Yer too pretty to be from Belding and your husband is wearing a BUTTON-DOWN SHIRT, for Pete's sake!

It is at this point that I begin to lose it. When Curt returns, I am laughing so hard my face is red and there are tears running down my cheeks. He has missed the entire thing and it is no use explaining. Lawdy. My stomach still hurts from laughing so hard. Sometimes... out of the blue... I'll hear Earl talking to himself:

I been to Korea.
Long time ago.

Can you picture it? Can you hear them? Can you hear Frank with his Granpa Church Voice? Even just for a moment? Bless my soul, it was a good night.

Y'all have a good weekend.
Talk to me soon.

I should tell you; I should tell you.

2008-12-01T07:32:00.005-05:00

[That's from Rent. You should see it many times, if you haven't already. It will change your life.]

Curt would like for me to learn how to make Pringles. while I do have occasional bouts with fabulous-ness, I feel this is one area I cannot conquer. If you thought I was the kind of person who could make this happen, I am so sorry.

A new money jar has been put into service [back story here]. It's an old whiskey jug that I found in a fabulous primitive antique store in Lowell. It's my new favorite place. You can't get your hand down in there, which keeps Little Grabber out. AND, it has more story that the glass cube. I like things with story. You have story. I also like you.

I think we have a brand. Can I just remind y'all that you rock? You are so very much a part of this place, it's hysterical. I hope it means you will feel right at home when you visit. Or, move in. But, I digress. I usually do digress. We settled on TexasNorth Land & Cattle (no Co.). Simple. I do like both, but I like simple better. Your brand ideas in the comments and emails that followed last week were exactly what I needed to get my brain moving again. Here she is, to your right: (ignore the amoeba around it... no amoeba). See how the 'North' part goes up and to the right a bit? Yeah. I love that. We're North and to the right of The Mother Country, so it's true. I like things that are true.

The Boy shot an 8-point buck Thanksgiving morning... he's a pretty one. It's his 2nd deer ever and I think this one will be a trophy for the wall. In a very real way, it will put food on our table for the next year... and we are so very thankful for that.

Whiskey jugs, Pringles, an iron brand, and an 8-point buck. That's what I got for you folks.

People! It's December!!! Holy frijoles. You have a fabulous day. Be nice and laugh lots, ok?

Hey!

2008-11-27T07:30:00.003-05:00

Whaddya doin' here?
It's Thanksgiving!

It's my most favorite day ever.
Well, top three for sure.

Pilgrims and turkey and football!
Macy's and dog shows and uncomfortable small talk!
Afternoon naps and leftovers!

Get outta here!
But, come back Monday.
And Happy Thanksgiving to you.

farmin'

2008-11-24T07:45:00.015-05:00

Ry says, "Thank you," for all the birthday wishes last Thursday/Friday. She had a lovely night with me and her dad... a trip to the local toy store with $20 in-hand and a hot dog dinner at the local hangout. She wanted to show you her new, and first, Wrangler snap shirt. Thank you for sharing the day with us.

Folks...

We had our first visit from the vet Saturday. I think we'll be good friends. May I just say I am thankful large animal vets make house calls? Can you imagine me trying to stuff Jill into the Subaru? Awkward. He took a look at the 2 mammas and 2 babies we have now and said they look just fine goin' into Winter. Fine weight-wise. Fine pregnancy-wise. Fine every-which-way-wise. It's a relief to hear that from a professional, though I think Ellie would like to differ seeing as how last week our temps dipped into the 20° range. I tried to get new pictures of them for you, but the camera fogged up. I'll work on it.

Hey! We decided on a name for the farm/ranch/retirement home! Ready? Wait for it... TexasNorth Land & Cattle. Fancy, right? I know. Fancy like I need a frilly apron and a triangle on my porch. I love it. I need to get to work on a label and a cattle brand for Spring. I am still loving my trademark typewriter font... so I expect that'll play in somehow. Hmmmmmm. Now that I look at it again, I think it should be TexasNorth Land & Cattle Co. Yes?

Branding is more difficult than you or I might think. It has to be incredibly simple so the lines show up well on the animal. I wanted a circle with a star in it... like a sheriff's badge. Too many lines. Bah. If any of you have suggestions, let'er rip. Here's a site that may inspire you a bit. Ask your kids. They think better along these simple lines than adults do.

I'd like to have a sign made up for the side of the hayloft. Something along the lines of the photo you see. I'm also in the process of writing and designing our website. Eventually, the blog and the KatieKate store will move over to texasnorth.com along with all our longhorn history and information. I know where I'm headed, but I can't build it in computer-language... so if you know any fantastic web designers that wannna have some Old West fun, send them my way.

In fact, it's time to go feed them now.

I best be 'goin' before they start knocking on my door.

Happy Monday to you!

P.S. The spell-checker had a field day with my country spelling today.

P.P.S. There are now pics of Ry in her shirt on Flickr in the left sidebar.

tomorrow

2008-11-20T07:32:00.005-05:00

I have to agree with Laura... I love that this blog is so conversational. Thank you for jumping in and sharing on Monday. It has really helped to give me some perspective. There are things I need to change... and there are things that just *are*. And, that's ok. Being married to an extremely efficient and goal-oriented person has challenged me to look at things in a new way. I think I just freaked out a bit there... wondering if everything on my end was wrong. But I'm just Katie. And I can't clean like Jami. And I can't cook like Cort. And I don't do our money like the Boy does, but all is well. All is very well. Thank you.

There's so much to tell you, but I defer to tomorrow's news:

Rylie Joy turns Two.

Since you have all shared in her life since day one, I thought it would be just fine to share a piece of her Birthday Letter here... as well as a couple of favorite pictures from the last year. I love that you know her. I love that you ask about her and come up to us in church and hug her. I love that your kids watch her on YouTube... because we certainly watch you. You are a part of our community and we love you.

Dear Rylie,
Child. Tomorrow, you turn 2. This means nothing to you except that I will be a bit more lenient on the Oreos for a day. I believe birthdays are a big day. We'll hang your banner and dance a bit more and open some small gifts. I got you a rockin' pink cowgirl snap shirt. Girl, you are nothing if not dressed c u t e.

Gas is $1.89 today. That's down three dollars from last month. We're in the middle of re-organizing our country and environment and bosses and transportation... and like good Americans, we're doing it all at once. We, as a family, are fine in these lean times thanks to your father's incredible ability to see the future and plan ahead. Honestly, I still don't know what we're eating tonight. But the two of us love you very much and we make a good team. You are well taken care of.

We got cows this year, Ry, and you l o v e them. LOVE them. Longhorns. You help me feed them every morning. You yell at them to move over and you hand them tiny scraps of hay that they've dropped. You like your barn neat. You also help with the chickens, though your egg skills need a little work. You ride the tractor with Daddio and you check the mail like a champ. You love to be out there, in the mix of things. You have thrived in this home we have chosen for you. It's always a fear for parents... 'Is this right?' 'Will this work?' I think, so far, you are thrilled.

You started therapy this year, kiddo, for Speech and Movement delays. Technically, you're about a year behind your peers. Some of your muscles just aren't kicking in on time. This is not to say you don't express yourself. You do. A lot. It's just in your own time and in your own language. You finally gave up on crawling a month ago. You crawled for 14 months, God bless your little butt. Someday, Bob Costas will do and Olympic Moment story on you and how we didn't know how'd you'd ever learn to walk... about how your muscles wouldn't hold you up. And then he'll talk about how you popped up one day, crooked right leg and all, and just decided to go for it. And how you grew and grew and grew and are now the world's fastest hurdler... just like your Daddy. It's going to be a great moment. Everyone's going to cry and cheer you on to the gold medal. I hope the world is ready for you.

You're still gorgeous. Yesterday a woman stopped me in the grocery store as you continued to push our cart down the produce aisle just to tell me that you were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. I thanked her and quickly rescued you and the lemon stand you crashed into. There is something about the way you carry yourself that is so engaging, so open... it draws people to you. You are everyone's child.

You love simple wind-up toys and Polish sausage. You sleep for 13 hours at night and another 2 during the day. You are an amazing dancer with ridiculously accurate rhythm. You have sung into a microphone and driven a bulldozer. You have hugged a chicken and helped drag wood in for the fire. You have no interest in movies on 24-hour road trips and Benadryl makes you hyper. Your GranPap in Tejas calls you twice a day and you scream when you hear his voice. You're rarely sick and you have the most incredible laugh there ever was.

We think you're the best.
When you read this someday and life is hard and you are wondering if it was ever good... I can assure you it was. You are loved and prayed for incessantly. It's only been two short years, but you are so very welcome here. You are, quite simply, a Joy.

Love, Mamma

time management

2008-11-17T08:40:00.015-05:00

Hi! Hi, there. Have I told you lately that I love you? Well, I do. I DO.

Folks, I need your help. I have been (self)diagnosed with a syndrome: Extreme Productivity in Small Amounts of Time. Symptoms include: one who is able to clean their entire house in the hour before husband comes home / required to leave for the evening; fits of extreme accomplishment in craftiness followed by months of inactivity; completion of required chores, but lacking in motivation to do extra.

I need to know what your day looks like... how you organize your time... how you get everything done. I realize our responsibilities are different and that your husband loves to iron, but I think in general the needs are the same. Food, laundry, vacuuming.

Here's a normal Winter day:

*~~dink around~~ write/catch up on the 'puter until I wake Ry up at 9am
*breakfast, dancing, heart to heart talks, and stoke fire
*dress Ry to head outside
*feed cows, cats, check on chickens, and bring in wood for the day (an hour or less)
*back inside where I vacuum real quick
*insert here: therapy some days, grocery shopping, lunch dates, errands, etc.
*Ry goes down from 1-3pm for a nap, where I think about dinner or crafting or Torah homework, and laundry
*Ry wakes up and we head outside again to check on the cows
*dinner prep
*Curt comes home at 6pm
*Ry takes a bath and heads to bed between 7 and 8pm
*Curt plays/works outside, I usually knit and sew inside until bed at 10pm

I know. It's a good life. Obviously, some days are more complicated than others... and some days are not. I have been really fighting internally lately with how I spend my time. And while I may be convicted about some areas (particularly about how I cannot wake up in the morning), I find myself struggling to change it for the better. Our marrige does not keep tally marks of accomplishment, but there are responsibilities. I wonder if I am falling short... and how far.

I was particularly productive last week. I kept the cleaning up, cooked all week, and managed to squeak out some bags for the etsy shop. AND, I started serious work on my first sweater for me and finished Lia's dress. But, my washing machine's been broke for 3 weeks now... so there were less responsibilities than there are today.

Help me out. I see you out there managing to do it all with 5 kids in-tow and I do not understand it. Let me know you have days of crazy downtime where you finish an entire book followed by days of insane chaos that leave you in your pjs all day because there just wasn't ever time to change or shower. Let me know how you manage to wake yourself up in the morning.

You could change my life.

Project Rooster

2008-11-13T08:00:00.003-05:00

Shield your eyes, young ones.
That's for you, Harrison.

The answers to Monday's Survival Challenge are immediately below this post.

Today, class, we will be discussing what happens when a small farm finds themselves with 13 roosters and 8 ladies.
:::

She calls her daughter's physical therapist and asks her to come teach a lesson on Chicken Demise, that's what she does. And then she emails her friend Lauren who is visiting for the weekend and asks her if she minds being a part of the action instead of going out for hot cocoa somewhere.

:::

Lauren, God bless you, you are truly and honestly the only friend I could have ev-ah called and said, "Um, looks like the chicken thing is happening on Sunday. Care much?" Lauren is an old friend from my teaching days in California. She now resides in Raleigh and makes the world a better place. I mean that with all my heart. All photos are courtesy of her as I was, ahem, knee deep.
:::

I had called every local butcher I could find, but there are some pretty strict rules (be Ye thankful) when it comes to poultry and beef. No mixing. Not a single person/business in the area could help a silly girl with a very small flock to cull. Somebody teach me! I'm willing and able to learn! But no. Where's an old Polish Gramma when you need one? I was left with too many boys, cold weather rapidly approaching, and lady birds getting attacked daily by some overly-aggressive red hats. Plus, two of the boys had decided humans were fair game near the end... and I'm just not down with that. I could have left them out overnight and let the coyotes have at'em, but that's just plain wasteful. So, I called Amy. And Amy said, "Sure." And, it's just that easy, Folks. Country folks help country folks.
:::

Amy arrived at 1pm that Sunday and proceeded to give us all a lesson we will never forget. We were finished by 4pm. It wasn't near as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it was awesome. I don't plan to do it yearly, but I can honestly say I could do it again if I had to. I have bridged the gap between old world and new. I know how to butcher a chicken.

:::

Twelve roosters met their match that afternoon and are now ready to feed us (and you) in the coming months. Happy, free-range, organic, huge chickens. They weren't raised as meat chickens, so they're a bit leaner and older than what you'd find in the store... but they're huge. If you're interested, lemme know. The eight ladies and one rooster remaining are so incredibly happy now that all the other punks are gone. Every day they run up to me and thank me for the peace they now enjoy. My pleasure, I say. My pleasure.

:::

Many many thanks to Amy for giving her time and patience to teach us wacky kids. Thank you to Amy's son who did the only part I would have no part in: the chopping. Thank you to Lauren for being fantastic. Thank you to the Man Above, for an honest-to-goodness love of this simple life. We are so very blessed.

:::

A complete set of photos can be found here. Becky, you should not look at these photos... though they really aren't bad. I promise.

:::

Class dismissed.

We need not discuss this anymore.

Unless you want to.

Then we can discuss it all you want.

But, not here.

Because I love Becky.

answers to the Survival Challenge

2008-11-13T07:00:00.003-05:00

First of all, you rock. Look at you doing your homework and everything!!! Way to be, Folks! You're so fun.

Your instincts were so very right... warmth and shelter are the key, here. NO walking or leaving the wreckage. People will be looking for you as soon as your plane does not arrive at its destination. The real question here is do we know how all these random pieces can be put together to ensure a comfortable wait? In my case, the answer was No. Apparently not. When I did this exercise myself as a junior in high school, I managed to convince my entire team that a compass was absolutely without a doubt a necessary. I can be very adamant when I think I am right. We do not need to discuss this.

SO. Kudos to you who resisted the urge to look up the answers before you tried... you are better people than I. I, honestly, would have totally cheated. The correct order of importance (in this specific case) is as follows:

lighter without fluid
ball of steel wool
extra clothing for each survivor
can of Crisco
20x20 foot canvas
axe
chocolate bars
newspapers
pistol
whiskey
compass
plastic map

Score as follows:
Take YOUR top five. Add points according to their ranking above. If your top 5 was pistol, Crisco, chocolate, axe, and whiskey you'd add 9 + 4 + 7 + 6 + 10 for a score of 36. Lowest score wins here. According to my calculations (which may be incorrect, so double check) our lowest score from Monday's comments was.......... Annie and Erica! ON THE MONEY, Peeps. You want these people on your crashing plane. In fact, Annie's list was correct all the way through save one item. Ladies, I'll send you a little surprise in the mail.

The creator of this specific test is Mark Wanvig. His explanation for the ordering of supplies is here. Is it not absolutely fascinating? I love this kind of stuff. I mean, I'll never look at a can of Crisco the same way again. In fact, I'm going to go put one in my car right now.

Here's how his brain processed the situation:

Mid-January is the coldest time of year in Northern Canada. The first problem the survivors face is the preservation of body heat and the protection against its loss. This problem can be solved by building a fire, minimizing movement and exertion, using as much insulation as possible, and constructing a shelter.

The participants have just crash-landed. Many individuals tend to overlook the enormous shock reaction this has on the human body, and the deaths of the pilot and co-pilot increases the shock. Decision-making under such circumstances is extremely difficult. Such a situation requires a strong emphasis on the use of reasoning for making decisions and for reducing fear and panic. Shock would be shown in the survivors by feelings of helplessness, loneliness, hopelessness, and fear. These feelings have brought about more fatalities than perhaps any other cause in survival situations. Certainly the state of shock means the movement of the survivors should be at a minimum, and that an attempt to calm them should be made.

Before taking off, a pilot has to file a flight plan which contains vital information such as the course, speed, estimated time of arrival, type of aircraft, and number of passengers. Search-and-rescue operations begin shortly after the failure of a plane to appear at its destination at the estimated time of arrival.

The 20 miles to the nearest town is a long walk under even ideal conditions, particularly if one is not used to walking such distances. In this situation, the walk is even more difficult due to shock, snow, dress, and water barriers. It would mean almost certain death from freezing and exhaustion. At temperatures of minus 25 to minus 40, the loss of body heat through exertion is a very serious matter.

Once the survivors have found ways to keep warm, their next task is to attract the attention of search planes. Thus, all the items the group has salvaged must be assessed for their value in signaling the group’s whereabouts.

Thanks for playing, folks! I'd have you on my team any day.

a challenge

2008-11-10T08:26:00.010-05:00

This post is brought to you by Rylie and her general cuteness.

On Halloween this year, I walked into a local private school to work with the 6th-grade class for the morning. I love 6th-grade. Specifically, I love 6th-grade boys. There's just enough attitude there to where you can fire back at them with all you've got and they love you for it. My personality fits well in 6th-grade. We don't need to discuss this.

I've already told you, I was a bit nervous to 'go to work' again. But, I did my homework and was ready with a list of new activities and questions that could have kept us busy all day. It was a gorgeous day, and we split our time inside (games with balloons work better inside... that may help you in the future) and outside. We talked about being together and being yourself. We talked about how hard it is to guide a group towards a common goal. We talked about expectations and fear of failure. And I told them, if they worked well together all morning, I would give them one of my hardest challenges.
They made good.
And now, I offer it to you.
This is an activity that was designed by a Survival Trainer and is given to military trainees. I had the kids split into groups of 5 and then handed them a paper with the following scenario and instructions on it:

You and your companions have just survived the crash of a small plane. Both the pilot and co-pilot were killed in the crash. It is mid-January, and you are in Northern Canada. The daily temperature is 25 below zero, and the night time temperature is 40 below zero. There is snow on the ground, and the countryside is wooded with several creeks crisscrossing the area. The nearest town is 20 miles away. You are all dressed in city clothes appropriate for an important business meeting. Your group of survivors managed to salvage the following items:

A ball of steel wool
A small axe
A loaded .45-caliber pistol
Can of Crisco shortening
Newspapers (one per person)
Cigarette lighter (without fluid)
Extra shirt and pants for each survivor
20 x 20 ft. piece of heavy-duty canvas
A sectional air map made of plastic
A compass
one quart of 100-proof whiskey
Family-size chocolate bars (one per person)

Your task as a group is to list the above 12 items in order of importance for your survival. List the uses for each. You MUST come to agreement as a group.

The kids had to decide individually on their list first. After about 10 minutes, I asked them to return to their groups and rank the items as a group. While there are actual answers to this challenge (which I gave them at the end, and will give you on Thursday), the real beauty of this activity is the opportunity to watch how people work independently versus in a group. We were able to talk about mob mentality, personalities, how to survive with people you don't like, what it's like to not have a lot of information but still have to make serious decisions... it's a very cool, wide-open, big activity. And, of course, the idea that this is usually given to adults really made them excited.
It was a fantastic day. The group did really well and, I think, had a lot of fun... which was our main goal. But, I think they also have some positive memories and laughs to fall back on now which may help later this year in tougher times. Sixth-grade is hard. Thanks for all your encouragement leading into that day. I felt very loved.

So, I offer you the challenge... just for kicks. Read the activity above again and then list the items in order of importance for survival. Thursday, I'll give you the 'real' answers. Give it to your significant other, too. They'll come up with answers completely opposite of you with completely different reasoning, I promise. It's a little maddening.

Let me know below if you're playing... I'll need your answers. Only your top 5 answers are scored, so think about those the most. The one who scores best will receive a small prize. Because I love you. And because 6th-grade was hard.

lots of things

2008-11-06T08:29:00.012-05:00

Sunday sent me cookies. The (my?) world would be so much better if people LISTENED TO ME and sent me cookies. Thank you for being bold, Sunday. Thank you for making a difference. I heart you.

I cried while I was voting. Seriously. These kind of things totally choke me up. I cry when the anthem is sung at the World Series. I cry when I see flags on the 4th of July. I cry when I'm leaving the voting place and a mom in flipsflops and pyjama pants comes out of the corner and says, quietly, "I've never done this before. Can you help me?" Tears. Tears, People. I'm a patriot. I love this place. Eddy wrote a beautiful piece to his kiddos about November 4th... I think you'll like it. I, of course, cried.

Ry got the I Voted sticker because, let's face it, she's cuter. We walked out of there, hand in hand, into the sunshine and off to Starbucks (for hot cocoa and an oatmeal cookie). And I cried.

Maybe you missed that: We walked out of there hand in hand.
And by that I mean: Rylie walked out of there.
On her own.
She is a walker now.
My child, who has done everything in her own time, has decided to walk after 23 months. It's awesome. She's so tall! She's so amazing.

[Please ignore my voice. I'm really not that annoying. All the time.]

Four years ago today, 175 friends and family stormed Eastown for my wedding. The boys wore brown suits. The girls, caramel-colored suede skirts with brown silk tank tops and tall leather boots. Red wraps from Spain. Every time I think of that day, I think, "Our wedding party looked f a b u l o u s." Pumpkins and lace. Old hymns. Cigars and mashed potatoes and daisies and a 1976 Land Cruiser. It was a very good day.

I wish I'd known you all then. We would have had one heck of a party. I know you'll celebrate with me today, and for that I thank you. Thank you.

Next Monday, I'm gonna tell you about the team challenge day with the 6th graders.
Next Thursday, I'm gonna tell you about the chickens.
Your life is never going to be the same.
See you next week.

a million and one

2008-11-03T07:22:00.008-05:00

That's how many things I have to tell you about.

But, tomorrow is ELECTION DAY, Peeps. It's HERE!!!

Congress' approval rating is lower (also here) than the current POTUS'. BUT, we all love our Congressman. And we keep sending them back term after term. Hello. I'm no genius at math, but something's not adding up here. There will be LOTS of choices on the ballot tomorrow, and I, for one, am not ready. While most of us are set on our Presidential choice, we may still have some reading to do for our local politics. Very important issues! Education! Medical Research! Judges! Town Theme Songs! Ok, not the last one.

I'm dismissing class early today. Take some time today to familiarize yourself with your candidates' history and platforms and options and proposals. Then, strut into the booth Tuesday feeling AWESOME that you did your homework. Your local news' website will have a voter guide where you can read up on the local happenin-s. Here's the voter guide for Grand Rapids: educate me AND, here's how to find where you are supposed to vote: firestations and libraries and town halls, oh my!

And also, bake those sweet election table sticker people some cookies for Tuesday, eh?

And also, send some to me.

Thank you.

days of yore

2008-10-30T07:59:00.004-04:00

Y'all... I'm a little nervous. A parent and friend emailed a few months ago, which led to a lunch date and a conversation about her son's 6th grade class. They aren't getting along. At all. They went on a team-building experience at the beginning of school and it failed miserably. She asked if I'd be willing to come in and try again. Whoa.

First of all, major compliment. Thank you. Second of all, holy virginia.

I actually went to school for this. I graduated from Texas A&M University (the school with the bonfire) in 1999 with a degree in Outdoor Education. This can mean different things at different schools... at my school, it was heavily Ropes Course oriented. Taking groups of people and leading them into relationships. Unpacking personalities. Conquering height and personal space fears. Working with groups of 50 year-old teachers who hate their new principal. Working with 7th graders who had three fellow students die in a bus accident. Working with the swim team from a local college. Working with in-coming freshman to get them off to a good start. The possibilities and purposes and variations are endless.

So, for the past 10 years, I've run ropes. High ropes (up in the trees) and low ropes (down on the ground). It's what I do. I talk. I lead. I facilitate. I joke. I guide. I play.

Since having Rylie, I've stayed at home. I'm kind of out of the outdoor education loop these days. I'm a mom, for pete's sake. I rarely climb trees anymore. The harness has begun to accentuate unwanted areas of my motherly frame. Please notice how everyone is looking at my dog Abe (off-camera) and NOT AT ME TEACHING THEM ABOUT KNOTS. I'm sure Abe was doing something moderately inappropriate and hilarious. I'm not picking my nose, btw. I'm thinking.

Most of these kids have done this kind of thing before. Every mall has a climbing tower now. Every Craig's Cruisers has a ropes course. These kids come to me having already played these games, been there, done that. It's not the novelty it was 10 years ago. I have to make it different. I have to make it relevant. And, I have to be cool. These are 6th-graders, after all. It's a tough crowd. So, I'm gonna dust off my books and pull out some stuff they've *hopefully* never seen before. Tomorrow, I'm gonna try to help them make their class work better together. I shall try... and maybe guide them towards better results than the first time.

What I wonder...
is what did you want to be?
or what did you go to school for?
or what are you now?
or all of the above.

It was a dark and stormy night...

2008-10-27T08:16:00.012-04:00

and the people came anyway.

Dude. Never cancel a hayride. Friday, I had considered emailing folks and warning them of the mud, the cold, the sadly lowing moos out in the pasture and the wind that had taken over TexasNorth. It's miserable, I would have said. I did not call or email anyone, thank goodness. I, in my silliness, had forgotten that children have this internal heater that is specially reserved for swimming in Lake Michigan and also playing tag in a wet field with a glow stick and completely new friends. For hours. FOUR hours, actually. 25 children came... and I saw only 4 of them inside for more that 5 hot-dog-grabbing minutes the entire evening. I don't understand it, but I will not question it again. It was fantastic.

To those of you who braved the weather and played with us Saturday night, thank you. It was such a blessing and such a BLAST to have you out here. To those of you who opted to stay home, we missed you... and we completely understand. There's always next year... or later this month.

And to whoever- adult or child- lock the kittens in my car for the night... I would like to talk to you after class.

Last Thursday. Thank you so much for your comments and your emails. My lives as a ARMY brat, an outdoor ed science teacher, a rock climber, a ropes course runner, a Young Life staffer, a singer, and a crafter have introduced to me to nearly every personality, religion, and personal philosophy out there. Thank you for hearing what I was trying to say Thursday and for returning today. You are good, good people. All of you. And, I like you very much.

And finally, I've been thinking about books. There is nothing better than reading by the fire in Winter. Amanda has a list of her top books... I'd like to offer a couple of my own. It's not complete, but so far:

best book ever... Five Smooth Stones, Ann Fairbairn
This book is out of print now, making it difficult to find. I do not understand why this book is not on every Senior reading list. Why? Why? Why? It is truly remarkable, touching, difficult, poetic. I have simply never been so affected by a single work before. It's the story of a man named David and his life during the Civil Rights Movement. The metaphor is obvious here... five smooth stones- those that David used against Goliath in tales of old. It's a good book. It's my absolute favorite.

most re-read book... A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith
I'm not a huge re-reader of books, but this is slowly changing. I read SO. MUCH. until about 5 years ago that my shelves are stacked with books I've read and left behind. Now I find myself going through them again with different eyes. This particular book I've loved since I was a child and have always come back to it year after year. I love it. It's an old friend.

most favorite "new book"... The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd
I've read this twice now, listened to the audiobook once, and have seen the movie (love, btw). It's just something simple and small that speaks to me in lots of places. It's a beautiful book. Simply. Beautiful.

You?

[photos: Ry's new winter hat]

results

2008-10-23T07:59:00.006-04:00

$376.61

and 5 pesos

winner: the lovely Shanda, with a guess of $380.00

and, because I love Fall, Nancy ($350) and Chelsey ($361) win, too.

Ladies, let me know what you'd like... a knit, up-cycled, or organic market bag.

:::

Three hundred and seventy-six dollars!!! That means $94 to local charity for Thanksgiving dinners! What a fantastic haul! The Boy is a little sad. That money jar represents 30 years of piggy bank stash. I promised him we'd prime the new stash well... and in a jar that Rylie cannot shop in every day. EVERY. DAY. Thanks for all your guesses, Folks! That was super fun. I had no idea what to expect from that jar... but now I know (and you know, for next time) to aim big.

:::amnesty:::

1. We do not 'do' Halloween around here. I know. I KNOW. There are a million things I'd like to say here, but I won't. We do hayrides and harvest and Fall and boots here at TexasNorth, no trick-or-treating or spooky dress up. But I WILL be ready to give your cute little cowboy or ghost or Jedi candy. The End.

2. And, in case I haven't lost you yet, I'm voting for McCain in a couple weeks.

Stick with me. These two statements do not even begin to define me. I'm an educated world-traveller. I'm well-read. I'm over 30 and I make my own pie crusts. I'm pretty cute in pigtails, and I study... everything. As much as all this is true, I've found the two admissions above have recently caused a few folks in my life to look at me twice... and not in a good way. It's cost me a couple of friendships/acquaintance-ships. I can hear my mother now: "Well, maybe they weren't your friends to begin with." Yes, I know. But, still. I expected... more, I guess. Better. It sucks the big one.

This blog has introduced me to so many things... so many fantastic people... so much fabric. I am forever grateful. I'm MOST grateful, however, for the variety of people that run through TexasNorth. We are as varied as you can possibly imagine. I'm hoping that, despite our many differences, I am still as lovely in your eyes as I was at the beginning of this post. I'm hoping, frankly, that I'm the exception to your rule. I'm not wholly fundamentalist. I'm not wholly Republican. I'm not anti-stem cell research and I'm not a vegetarian. I wear skirts because they're comfortable not required, and I handle all the bills in our house. I'm Katie. Pleased to meet you. BE NICE.

I care what you think. Not out of low self-esteem, but because I'm a human being. I like to hear about what you think and why, and I kindly expect the same in return. Being dismissed implies you think I'm an idiot, which brings out the serious fight in me. And it makes me not want to make you any apple pie.

I don't think you're dumb. So, don't assume I'm dumb. Wait a bit. I'll prove it in better ways than how I'm voting or which (witch?) holidays we dig. Maybe I'll take you through the car wash sometime. Thanks.

[photos: Ry's new boots. Be still my heart.]

so we went to get a haircut...

2008-10-20T08:39:00.008-04:00

We get ready. We like Miss LuAnn and her blow dryers.

Miss LuAnn gives us a special kid seat AND things to play with.

We begin to realize we are alone in this world...

We beg for sanctuary.

Please note crocodile tear pouring out of right eye.

We are humbled in despair.

We are offered a sucker.

Tear is still there.

We are offered two suckers.

Tear is still there... just in case.

We are pleased with the wonders of the world... and Mom's lap.

We are cautiously optimistic.

We are ok.

We are beautiful.

Traumatized, but beautiful.

***
Reminder #1: this Saturday is the 3rd Annual hayride at TexasNorth! It's an open invitation to you and yours to come play at the farm. I mean that.

Reminder #2: The Money Jar results will be announced Thursday!

vacation

2008-10-16T07:33:00.003-04:00

[The money jar contest goes until NEXT week, so you still have time!]

You know it's gonna be one heck of a trip when you head down the basement the night before you leave and find it flooded with 2 inches of water AND the electronic door locked AND your foundations inside. Two hours and $2.73 later (from the filter), we were no closer to my foundations inside the washer. My mechanically-inclined husband took the bless-ed machine apart and put it back together again... which caused the thing to BEEEEEP and unlock the door. God bless America. I then did 5 loads on the speed cycle and packed like a maniac.

Lawdy.

We're havin' a good, slow time here in Texas. It's hard not to, what with all the new cupboards to tear into, new cowgirl boots, new John Deere hats, first-time haircuts, billy goats, cars to push buttons in, and grandparents that simply cannot get enough of a little pixie girl.

My father has always had a ridiculous way with children... they love him. LOOOOOOOVE him. Rylie has been stuck to him like glue since last Saturday afternoon. I am not looking forward to the morning she wakes up and realizes it's just me again. It's gonna be a rough re-entry, mark my words.

The hair cut was nothing short of traumatic... but I need the photos from my camera to complete the story, so that will come later. But look at the back now! No more sweet little ringlet mullet! Now she's a little sprite... she looks like she walked out of a 1930s advertisement.

Curt has been off visiting local longhorn ranches and making notes for next year. The owners have welcomes us in, and I'd like to think that's because there's true Texas blood running through our ranch... and also because The Boy is handsome... and maybe also because Texas folk are just plain kind. Good people.

We leave for home early Saturday morning and will break our journey at the Sebeck household in St. Louis. From there, it's a 6 hour drive home to Grand Rapids on Sunday. Please pray for more sleep for Rylie this time... 4 hours again may just kill us all. I am armed with plastic farm animals, goldfish crackers, and some Baby Einstein in a pinch.

Talk to you Monday...
y'all be good now, ya here?

a challenge

2008-10-13T08:00:00.008-04:00

[Comments are now closed! The money has been turned in!]

We made it to Texas in amazing time... 20 hours flat. Ellie and Aunt Regina- I waved and honked at you at the I-44 interchange around midnight. It was a fantastic drive... Curt and I switched every gas tank. Rylie slept for a total of 4 hours. I KNOW. But she did good. That child never ceases to amaze me. I'll tell you more on Thursday... including the story about locking all my undies in the washing machine the night before we left. You know I'm not kidding.

But now, on to bigger and better things.

This is the money jar. It has sat on The Boy's night stand for years and years. And years. And years. And years. It neither grows nor shrinks anymore. It is stagnant. Everyday, Rylie sticks her hands and her face and anything else that fits into the jar. She counts the money. She eats the money. She takes the money for a walk. It's yucky.

It is time for it to go.

Tuesday next, the 21st, I shall somehow lug this glass square to my bank and dump the contents in the change counter. 25% of the results will go to a local charity for Thanksgiving dinners and the rest will go in the bank after I get Rylie and myself a milkshake.

Whoever guesses the amount closest (over or under) to the exact amount, will win a knit, sewn, or screen-printed market bag of their choice. Mmmmhmmm. Fa la la la laaaaaaaaa!

Details: glass jar is an 8-inch cube and is filled to 6 inches. Jar + contents = 50 pounds exactly. Guesses are open to anyone who comments on this post by Tuesday, but you may only enter once. And, yes. You may change your vote... I'll take the last one you post. The results will be announced on Thursday the 23rd. Giddyup and good luck!

Thursday

2008-10-09T08:11:00.008-04:00

Aw, man. I love you guys! Such excitement! Such hilarity! I went out yesterday and read all the comments to Miss E and Jilly... they were thrilled (and speechless) by the warm welcome. Thank you.

Dude. The cows are HUGE. The four we've played with all summer are just babies... just a year old. [photo: Total Eclipse and then CJ, a yearling, behind her] Having these new 10 year-old mammas in there for the week has given me a new appreciation for raw power. Ry and I go out multiple times a day, because the child cannot get enough, and throw them hay and talk to them and moooooooooooo at them. Lemme tell you, when they move, it's like a train coming through. Yet, they're so gentle and so aware. But huge. They're big. HUGE, I say again.

I really seriously am going to knit them scarves for their first Winter. I'm sure it will help the transition. Eclipse will get red, of course... stunning against the black coat. But I'm stuck on Jill. Any ideas?

So. People. We leave tomorrow night for the Mother Country, Tejas. We're going to drive straight through the night in the (vain?) hope that Ry will sleep most of the night. That will still leave us a good 12 hours of Saturday travel... and this is where you come in. Have any of you travelled successfully with a ultra-squirmy 2 year-old for 24 hours in the car? SHARE YOUR SECRET. I'm hyperventilating over here.

I'll let you know Monday if I survive the vehicle lock-down.
You'll want to check in... there's a new give-away in the works!

Ok...
I'm off to do laundry. Ya know, it's a good thing Miss E and Jilly don't wear underpants. It would totally throw a kink in my un-laundry system.

More cow[bell], please.

2008-10-06T07:49:00.011-04:00

That's from Saturday Night Live, of course.

Ladies and Gentlemen, children of all ages! I'd like to introduce you to the newest members of the TexasNorth family. Curt returned from Oklahoma Sunday afternoon (let all the angels sing) with 6 new cows for the ranch. 2 mammas with their two babies AND both mammas are pregnant. They'll have May calves next year. Crazy exciting times around here! Exclamation point!

Meet Total Eclipse and her calf (a bull). Miss Eclipse is 10 years old and a sweetie. She'll eat right out of your hand. Her horns measure 64" from tip to tip, and she's solid black. Her owner was very sad to part with her and considered changing her mind... but The Boy promised we'd love her and talk about her and put lots of pictures up. She's gonna be a happy cow, I promise!

Here's Southern Jill with her baby boy calf trailing behind. Jilly is also 10 years old, also measures 64" from tip to tip and is making herself the herd boss... she's got a little friendly attitude and quickly placed herself first in line at the watering trough. Isn't her color gorgeous? It's like someone sponge-painted her. I love her.

Yep, that's 2 baby boys in the photos. We're not quite sure what will happen with those fellas yet. Jill's boy already has some pretty cute little horn stubs growing, so we may wait a bit to see how he grows. The other boy will likely live a very happy life here on the farm and then help feed a few families. I'm just keepin' it real. We do still have the other 4 girls... but remember that they aren't technically ours. They're Dave's, and they won't be living here permanently. They're just on Summer vacation and will be headed home before the snow flies. Southern Jill and Eclipse are our first official longhorns, and we are so very happy.

Both Eclipse and Jill are from out of town... Texas and Alabama, to be exact. So, this will be their first Winter. I'm sure they're thrilled. In order to get them ready, we need to wean the babies from them pretty soon. When a mamma cow is feeding a baby, all her energy is going to that milk. (Sound familiar, Girls?) The sooner we can stop that, the more time the ladies will have to build up their Winter coat. I'm not looking forward to separating the babies from their mammas. Everyone says to prepare for 5 days of sad bellowing and heartache on both sides... but we Mammas understand that, too, eh?

Cort... she's lookin' right at you. "What UP," she says.

Thanks for tuning in to another installment of the Life and Times of those crazy Mulders in Michigan. We're havin' a good time.

knit market bag

2008-10-04T14:16:00.016-04:00

These bags are quickly becoming indispensable around our house. I have one in the car with library books. I have one on the counter with veggie-stand produce. Another is holding apples from our latest adventure. Rylie's two baby dolls are currently living in the medium version. It's time to kill all those useless plastic veggie bags, eh?

The large (white and red in the photo) bag can easily hold up to 15 pounds of *stuff*. The medium (multi-colored in photo) holds up to 10 pounds comfortably. The small (not pictured) has not been weight tested.

Each bag is hand-knit by me with a drop-stitch pattern in cotton or acrylic. Bags are machine wash and dry. Are you kidding me? Of course they are.

everyday dresses

2008-10-04T13:52:00.007-04:00

Oh, how I love these faux-smocked dresses. They seem to be everywhere these days... and that's because they're light, they're comfortable, and they make you feel so very pretty.

Dresses and tops are made with one simple measurement. Take a tape measure and measure under your arms and over the fullest part of your chest. Pretend you're wrapping a towel around yourself. If you've got a squirrel-y kid, like me, use a string and then lay that string down next to a ruler. Now, we're talkin' about elastic here... no need to be unbelievably precise. Don't ruin your day by trying to wrangle your child into submission. Read your number as best you can and call it good.

Kiddo dresses easily double as tops the next year. These tops can be all-season wear simply by adding a long sleeve tee underneath. The inside seam is hidden... so no rough edges and no fraying in the washing machine. Edges, depending on the fabric, are rolled with a zig-zag stitch or flat-hemmed.

Along with your measurement, you'll email me [katiemulder AT gmail DOT com] your color preferences, if any. If you'd like a pocket or contrasting straps, that's a good time to tell me as well.

celebration banners

2008-10-04T13:33:00.007-04:00

For my daughter's 1st birthday, I wanted to make something really special. I plan to use it for all her special occasions in the years to come... kind of like that red "You are Special" plate we had in my home when I was little. One side says "Hurray for Rylie" while the other side alternates in coordinating fabrics. This blank side currently hangs in her room as decoration.

Your banner will be custom made with up to 15 flags displaying the phrase of your choice. You choose the basic colors and phrase. Letters are all-caps and individually hand-cut. Flags are sewn together and then turned inside out. Fabric and hanging 'tape' are cut from from recycled clothing, sheets, and new cotton. All fabrics will coordinate, but not all fabrics will be the same unless specifically requested.

This would be a spectacular gift for a new mom from some of her favorite people- or perhaps sisters jockeying for 'best aunt'. This is truly an heirloom gift for any occasion that will last for years and years.

Length, including hanging loops, is approximately 12 feet.

::some possibilities::

Celebrate!

It's a special day!

We love ______

Hurray for _____

Happy Birthday!

You are amazing!

Merry Christmas!

Hip Hip Hooray!

There is a charge of $2 for each extra flag over 15.

Please allow 2 weeks, if possible, for fabric collection and assembly.

Exceptions are absolutely possible.

16 x 20 flat canvas

2008-10-04T12:58:00.016-04:00

16x20 flat canvas, unframed
fabric, ink, ephemera, and paint

These are a great gift for Mother's Day, Father's Day, baptisms, birthday... you name it. Once a general theme is chosen for the setting, the background is filled in using words or your choice: quotes from friends, Scripture, a favorite poem, or a rambling from me. All stages of this are approved by you, of course, before anything becomes permanent.

Each shape is hand-cut from fabric and secured to the canvas. Text is handwritten by me using archival ink. The completed canvas is coated with a light layer of Krylon 'Preserve It' protectant.

The 16x20 size is a standard size. You will find a wide selection of ready-made frames of this size at your local Michaels or Hobby Lobby to match your canvas. Personally, I love the barnwood frames with these... they make it look handmade but clean.

She can be taught!

2008-10-02T07:56:00.006-04:00

[That's from Dead Poet's Society] I am a single parent this week. I don't know how Rylie figured that out so quickly, but she woke up with a fire in her eye Wednesday morning and hasn't settled down yet. She also opted to eat 2 grown-up size bowls of Zatarain's black beans and rice with kielbasa for dinner last night. If anyone would like to join me on diaper duty today, I will marry you.

Where is The Boy, you ask? He's in Guthrie, Oklahoma... and I've been singing show tunes all week. He headed South with 2 friends and 9 cows to a big fancy schmancy longhorn auction and won't be back until Sunday night.

And me? Well, I tend to get extremely scattered-brained when left to my self for any period of time. There are half-started projects everywhere. You know how you start vacuuming, and then pause to move the chair, which leads you to putting the train back in the baby's room, which causes you to strip her crib sheets, which leads you into the basement by the washing machine where laundry needs to be shifted over, which causes you to put the blankets back in the hope chest, which is right next to the photo albums of your summer at Camp? And all the sudden it's four hours later and you never got back to the vacuuming. Yeah. That's me on a good day. It's worse when The Boy isn't around to keep me on track. Fortunately, I'm super good under pressure... and everything will be back to normal by Sunday morning. *ahem*

Amidst all the chaos, I have managed to literally tie up a few loose ends around TexasNorth in the crafting department. I have these fits of productivity which end with large bowls of popcorn and old black and white movies.

Stella's dress (classic black and white print with red trim, smocking, and straps)

another row on the rag rug (which Abe immediately approved of)

knit market bags (in a new pattern that I can finish in a single evening whilst watching The Office)

a gift canvas for a sweet mom in Georgia

Ahhhh. It's amazing what I can do when I sit down and pay attention. Unfortunately, this amount of productivity is unlikely to be reproduced again before the turn of the new year. If I am ever able to get my act together for more than one day at a time, I am going to rule the world.

My goal for this weekend is simply to make links for the custom items on the left sidebar. It can be done. I would also like to promise that Ry and I will make it out of our pjs over the next three days, but let's be realistic... shall we?

Sundays

2008-09-29T07:59:00.003-04:00

Sundays are good days for driving 30 minutes out of town and watching the city get further and further away. Sundays are good days for sweatshirts and football and roast beef sandwiches. Sundays are good days for chasing chickens, ambushing kittens, and feeding cows. Sundays are good days for tractor-driving lessons and wagon rides... reading and knitting.

Sundays are good days for unexpected naps while adults linger at the table and babies chase dust bunnies. Sometimes, life just wears you out and sleep sucks you in.

What do you normally do on Sundays?

We took a 'zero day' yesterday. A zero day, in hiking terms, is a day of no miles. An off day. A separate day. No progress. Rest. Recuperation. More rest. Possibly laundry, though not in this house. We didn't even go to church, which is extremely rare. Extremely. Did I mention, extremely? It felt odd... to be home, to have a cloudy but pleasant day, to have absolutely nothing to do but ride and read and walk. Sweet friends came out to lounge, eat leftovers, and talk... about nothing. It was a secret, stolen day... and it was glorious.

seriously

2008-09-25T07:59:00.006-04:00

Mondays Laura and I have a standing date involving cheap food. We've done it twice now, which makes it a tradition. This week, I was 15 minutes early and decided to run the ol' Subaru through the automatic car wash. This is a big deal. So big, in fact, that I had visions of Curt buying me diamonds for washing the 42 layers of country road dirt off my back windshield. Washing the car is the last thing on my mind these days, what with the war and elections and canning season here... so I figured I'd put those 15 minutes to good use. I paid the nice man and he guided me into the left wheel lane.

Now- I should admit here that I've had trouble with this kind of maneuver before. I may or may not have once ended up straddling the conveyor belt at a car wash across town and had to reverse out, causing 3 cars behind me to ALSO reverse out into on-coming traffic. AND, once I almost died by driving my car into the oil check pit. Again, marriage is good for me because The Boy usually takes care of these things at home. We are all safer for it, believe me.

Back to the car wash. Right. So. Monday. I pay the man, I successfully jump on the conveyor belt, I check my windows, I put the car in neutral. Things are good. As it gets a bit darker in the tunnel, Ry starts to panic a little. We sing a bit. All is well. Then the rumbling starts as the washers approach and the spraying starts. Ry starts to lose it. It's stinkin' loud in there. No problem. I decide I will take her out of her car seat and have her sit with me. Fun.

I unbuckle and turn around but cannot find Rylie. Oh, wait. There she is. UNDER ALL THE SUDS AND WATER THAT ARE POURING IN FROM THE WINDOW ACROSS FROM HER. I am a genius, people. Seriously. I totally checked the windows before I started. I totally did. *sigh* I used my remaining 2 minutes of being early to wipe down the back seat with my fleece jacket. The back seat is now very clean and my child is scarred for life.

That right there, Folks, is why I have always believed I live in a Dawson's Creek episode minus the underage drinking and cyclical dating.

Dear Rylie,

I'm sorry about the car wash incident.

Love, Mom

I'm comin', I'm comin'.

2008-09-22T09:17:00.005-04:00

And now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Can you tell what's going on here?

How 'bout now?

How 'bout now? I caught her in my 50 pounds of Honeycrisps... makin' nice neat rows of apples with teensy bites out of them. It was so darn cute. Her friend wanted in on the action, too. These apples have a future in applesauce today and tomorrow.

You'll remember that back in April I picked up 25 baby chickens. I didn't pay the extra cash-ola for all ladies... I figured I had a 50/50 chance. You know. Odds. Well, now I've got about 20 roosters and 5 hens. My hand to Heaven, I am not even kidding. Slaughtering was never on my hobby farm list of "OOOOOH, I wanna do that!" but seriously, folks. These guys are huge. And they are terrible at laying eggs. They have plenty of room and don't fight (and don't attack), but I don't need a million boys around here. Thus, I have roped my father into helping me make some chicken dinners when he comes in December to ~~be our nanny~~ visit for awhile. He's an old pro. He used to hafta chopchop when he was a kid out on the farm... before the 20 miles walk barefoot and uphill to school, of course. Come Christmas time, you could have yourself a nice TexasNorth free-range chicken on your table if your gate swings that way. You local folks let me know.

It's good to be back. We've missed you.

See you Thursday.

12x16 custom pillow

2008-09-15T11:16:00.023-04:00

A perfect little pillow for cribs or travel or kindergarten nap time. Why not send your little (or not so little) one off with something from home to make the time a little sweeter?

Your pillowcase can be decorated with a name, a phrase, or an animal of choice (sunshine, or bees, or ladybugs, or a field of daisies, or stripes, or anything you can think of). Letters and/or shapes are heat-bonded and sewn on. The pillowcase closes with an envelope (overlapping) closure and decorative ties. The back is made from coordiating fabric and will match the front.

pillow insert included, 100% poly fill and machine washable
machine wash and dry, gentle
remove pillowcase from insert and turn inside out before washing

contact with me any questions (absolutely)
katiemulder AT gmail DOT com

swamped

2008-09-15T07:43:00.001-04:00

My baby is sick. 103° fever sick. Not moving, not eating, not fussin'... not at all herself.

:::

We're gonna take it easy today... and get to know each other again. We've been getting on each other's nerves for the past week... her growin' and me not wanting her to. Her climbing on the counters and me not wanting her to. Her yellin' and me not wanting her to. I was about ready to throw in the towel, to be honest... but a Sunday sermon, some allergy medicine (for mom), and a feverish child later, I have a little better outlook on things.

:::

We just need a little break. I need to start knitting again. She needs to go to the children's library. I need to print some market bags. She needs to start up therapy-preschool again. I need to write some letters, read some old ones, and recharge a bit. And Ry, she needs to lay on the couch and watch Annie today.

:::

So, excuse the silence this week while we get ourselves back on track.

I'll be on email, of course. I'm only human.

Talk to you next Monday...

and love you so very much...

KatieKate

let's talk chicken

2008-09-11T07:53:00.011-04:00

So, some of you know that the other day I had a chicken walk into my house. My living room, to be exact. I asked him to leave. Yesterday, I had two walk through the front door as I was unloading groceries. Me thinks they're getting a bit too comfortable around TexasNorth.

Having chickens for the past 2+ years has been an unexpected super-fun journey. They're awesome. We certainly didn't plan to have chickens, but they're here to stay now.

Our chickens are free range. This, at TexasNorth, means they are cage-free and wander outside in the pasture from dawn until dusk. At dusk, they roost in the chicken coop and I shut their doors to protect them from things that go bump in the night. This also means, at TexasNorth, that the chickens have their beaks and un-clipped wings. It also means, at TexasNorth, that they are fed a mash supplement to assist with calcium levels (which is needed for the eggs' shells). I'm not convinced this is necessary yet, but I'm also not convinced it's not. For now, it's available to them. It's also fun for Rylie to throw at them, and that makes it worth it.

I say 'at TexasNorth' because not all free-range, organic, cage-free products are created equal. The hobby farmer is not the norm these days, though he is enjoying some awesome popularity again. With the decrease of family farming, bigger farms have taken up the production slack... often resulting in huge specialty farms. Pig farms. Or chicken farms. Or vegetable farms. Or onion farms. And with big farming often comes the inability to control everything the way they'd/we'd like it... because they have to keep the trucks rolling. It's not their fault. It's a combination of problems. Space, time, interest, money... they're all problems. And every farm deals with them differently.

Many of you have a healthy understanding of where your food comes from and its contents. You care. You pay attention to studies and surveys. You enjoy baskets from your local farmer's market. I love it. I just want to encourage you, above all else, to know your farmer. Honestly. That person behind the market stall is the most important thing you can know about your food. Labels like organic and fair and free are a suggestion of direction, not a guarantee of quality. Wait. Am I talking about polictics here? Hmmmm.

I'll say right here and now that my possibly non-organic eggs are better than any supermarket's of equal comparison. I love my chickens. I think they're hilarious. I like them so much I'm willing to scoop out their stinky coop mulch every couple months to keep it smelling nice (and my flowers blooming lover-ly). I'd be willing to bet they're happy here. They lay some seriously good, seriously neon-orange-yolked eggs. It will be the same with our cows and their meat. I have no idea, however, whether we will ever be certified organic. I don't like filling out paperwork and it's gonna be tough to pass that test with creosote fence posts.

It's the relationship... the knowing who's growing the food that's feeding your family. Meet these people. Walk their farm. See what they're like. Are they kind? Are they diligent? Are they passionate? Are they funny? ~~Do they dress cute?~~ It's simply not enough to buy the label. Labels mean less and less these days. They're a great place to start, but they can tell very little about a product and even less about the people behind it. Be (more) intentional about what you're doing. what you're buying. what you're eating. There are so few things you can control in this world! This is one of them! Go for it.

Some links for you to find good farm friends (yell if you have more):

Slow Food USA

Local Harvest

Just in case you need it, here are some reasons truly free-range eggs (as compared to supermarket eggs) are good for you:

• 1⁄3 less cholesterol
• 1⁄4 less saturated fat
• 2⁄3 more vitamin A
• 2 times more omega-3 fatty acids
• 3 times more vitamin E
• 7 times more beta carotene
(from Mother Earth's Chicken and Egg page)

And here's everything else you'd ever want to know about an egg: egg facts.

And that's enough (for today) about that.
I love you guys.

cutting it close

2008-09-08T09:32:00.011-04:00

I am missing Tejas. It always happens right about now... it's been a bit too long since we've taken a trip South. We head back to the Mother Country in the middle of October and I am counting the days.

What I do to combat this homesickness is call My Little Blonde One. I beg her to allow me to sew things for her twin children who are having pictures taken this week. (Twin girls who were born on Valentine's Day... break my heart and replace it with a sweetart, please.) 'I just want to,' I say. I just need some of ME in Texas. And thus, more faux-smocked sundresses. These may or may not be picture quality dresses... they have no straps because I cut it very close with the thread. But, they'd still be cute over a long-sleeve shirt this winter or with bare feet over a swim suit. The straps will be delivered when we come in October. Thank you for your patience.

The fabric is one-of-a-kind (which I've just learned is OOAK in the craft world... I couldn't figure that out for the longest time) and from Chelsey, who surprised me by shipping me a box full of fabric I'd never seen. Lovely, surfer-inspired, out of print fabric from friends who used to print for Billabong and RedSand and Stussy... very cool stuff. Chesley- you rock my ever-lovin' world.

And yes, these are available to you... big or small... Christmas or not. Just give me a yell.

We had a very big weekend here at TexasNorth... not a small part of which was The Boy rockin' some serious progress on the front porch decking. He is, in a word, amazing. The porch is awesome. And big. The front and back porch combined will double our house square footage. So, there's plenty of room for you and yours. Head on over.

Isn't he cute? He's standing in my flower bed here, but it's ok. I'm over it. Check out our little 'helper.' She's tired from a long day of climbing and rolling in the dirt.

All the work and sunshine on Saturday meant an open front door (with no screen). I am now in a battle for my house against flies. I hate flies. I am armed. I am ready. I'll talk to you on Thursday.

Wrinkly baby feet, anyone?

2008-09-04T08:01:00.001-04:00

Camping at Platte River over the long weekend was absolutely perfect. I managed to take only one photo, which is what happens when there are 6 tents and 6 cousins and 4 generations of family all camping together on one site. Also, I may die of West Nile Virus soon, but it was worth it.

I have sorted the resulting laundry into piles based on the colors in a Crayola 24 box. I'm not kidding, people. There's a lot of laundry. The next load is Cerulean Blue clothes.

Now. Camping (within walking distance of the car). Yes. We love it. Even/especially with an almost-toddler. Let's talk about some things that make life grand whilst camping for The Mulders of TexasNorth:

our tent: a Springbar... made in the USA, canvas, old-school, sets up in about 10 minutes, LOVE IT. Seriously. It rocks. My biggest requirement was that I be able to stand up while changing. I am not graceful while changing clothes in the wild. I need both feet on the ground.

our baby carrier: after borrowing a few and being sadly disappointed, we invested in a USA-made ToughTraveller. These people know what they're doing. We could not be more pleased with it. It also has a great backpack under the kiddo seat that holds everything you could need for a day's adventures. Peeps, if wimpy-ol'-me can carry the child in it while hiking, packing, harvesting the garden... you can bet your bottom dollar it's a miracle product.

our high chair: I've mentioned this before, but the MeToo chair comes with us when we hit the woods. The MeToo chair comes with us basically everywhere. It's perfect. And, it fits on any table. And, it's lightweight. And, it's compact. And, awesome.

our lunches: Breakfasts and dinners are sit-down affairs, but lunches are usually on the go. At the beach. On a mountain. In a boat. (not all at the same time) We always have Pickle Wraps for lunch. Of course, peanut butter is an option, too... but sometimes that just doesn't cut it. There are always Pickle Wrap ingredients in our cooler.

cream cheese
lunch meat (usually turkey)
pickle slices
tortillas

It goes like this:
take out your tortilla
spread a hefty amount of ~~heaven~~ cream cheese down the center
add 3 slices of lunch meat
and 2 pickle slices
roll and eat

It's portable. It's kid-friendly. It's fast. It is sooooo zippy, creamy good. It's possible to make these at home, of course, but it's somehow just not the same as when you're in the woods. Perhaps it's the unexpected luxury of cream cheese. Perhaps it's the tang of the pickles. I dunno. I don't care. I'm a fan.

It's time for the red-violet load to go in the washer now. Gotta run.
Blessings to you and yours this weekend!

'tis the season

2008-08-28T08:02:00.011-04:00

I am nothing if not honest. I am not a 'Christmas music all year-round' kind of gal. I lived with one of those for many years... but she did not convert me. I am also stubborn. Christmas after Thanksgiving. That's my rule.

I am also a teensy bit random. It's gonna rock my traditional boat, but I can take it. A few of you have emailed and commented on the possibility of me helping you with some presents for the holiday season (we shall call you 'the overachievers'). Yes. I would love to help you. Absolutely. I just need a ballpark idea of what I'm looking at so I can be realistic with my time and promises.

And to add to your options, I'd like to let you in on a secret that's been in the works for a while now.

They're organic.
They're from Texas.
They hold 25 pounds.
They'll be less than $25.

They're illustrated by the beautiful Cortney and printed by yours truly. Seriously. You can't go wrong. The photo to your right shows a bag already printed, but the ones from TexasNorth will be available with any of Cort's 12 farm drawings on them... printed and/or embroidered. ARE THEY NOT SO AWESOME? Price and drawings are being fine-tuned (I don't know what the company is going to charge for my bulk order yet), but I'll let'cha know.

If you think you'd like to order an organic market bag, a cotton market bag, banners, or anything else you've seen me talk about here, I'd love for you to let me know by October 1st. As an incentive: no charge for shipping on early-bird orders! Fa-la-la-la-laaaaaaaa-la-la-la-la. Get those lists a-goin'! Send me an email [katiemulderATgmailDOTcom] and we can talk in secret. No need to spoil the surprise in the comments. (I am also old-fashioned.)

The linen dress photos are from a ridiculous photo shoot with a 21month old I know. Please note the Sloppy Joe decorating her nose. Have you ever tried to wipe this child's face? It's like asking me to be brief. It's like asking John to move the island. It's like... well, you get the picture. Ellie, I put in a zipper. Don't look too closely. I didn't follow the directions. But, it functions and I may have danced around my kitchen with First-Time-Zipper-Achievment glee. Twice.

***

Monday is Labor Day. Take a load off. The Mulder family is headed North to camp again and make more laundry. I'm not gonna lie. There's still laundry downstairs from 2 weeks ago. I. Am. Awesome.

parking lots

2008-08-25T08:02:00.008-04:00

I try to grocery shop only once a week. Rylie has reached the age of recognizing boxes and their contents... and the fruit section- well, that's a whole other beast. I leave with half my groceries already open and bananas with teeth marks in them. You know what I'm sayin'.

A month ago, I unloaded my cart into my trunk, returned the cart, and strapped Rylie in- all while keeping tabs on a woman having an apparent argument on her cell phone. She was barely 50 years old, pushing a full cart of groceries, and crying. As I got in my steaming car, I turned to reverse and saw her standing 2 rows over with her phone now closed and her head in her hands. Sighing, I got out and yelled a bit abruptly, "Are you ok?"

She turned toward my voice and looked at me with pure panic in her eyes.

"I'm lost," she said. "I have Alzheimer's and I can't find my car. I don't know where I am."

I stared at her, shocked. Tears choked my throat as everything around me stopped. Parking lot- gone. Schedule- gone. Frustration- gone. I smiled as big as I could and said, "We can figure this out! Hang on one second." I unbuckled Rylie and headed over. She handed me a small address book.

"I wrote every person I know down in this book in case this ever happened. It's their number and how I know them... in case I forget. I've just never forgotten before. I've never... it's never been like this before."

I realized I was looking at a woman whose life was falling apart. This would likely be the last day she drove alone. The last time she went grocery shopping without a detailed list. The last time she would be independent. She handed me the little book- her lifeline.

"Alright... we're at the grocery store in Greenville. Do you live in town?"

"Yes."

"Great. And you're sure you drove a car today?"

"Yes."

"Ok. How 'bout Matt here? He's your mechanic and it says 'good friend' next to him."

"Yes! Matt knows my car!"

"Alright. Let's call Matt."

She dialed and I listened as she cried, but with less panic now, and explained the situation. When she got off the phone, she told me Matt was on his way and then described her car to me. We found it a couple rows over, but I walked her to a bench with her cart and left her smiling and calm outside the entrance, waiting for her friend. I was, you see, just the middle man... my job was done.

Honestly, I don't have a super-great nature. I'm crabby when I'm hot (and sometimes when it's pleasant outside), and I can't seem to put laundry away in the same week it comes out of the dryer. I battle the demon of depression daily, I am slow to compliment others, and I'd eat popcorn for dinner every night if left to my own defenses. We all have things like this... I know. But for those short 15 minutes in that parking lot, I was almost good. I could feel it. I was more of the person I want to be... more like the God who made me. I've no doubt my actions were in large part because my child was in the backseat and deep down I wanted her to see what I can be when I really try. When I pay attention. When I forget myself. The Big Man continues to make me a better person through her. Thank God for her.

I just want to remind you to take your time. To look around. To smile at strangers and to share hurt. To do what you can when you can. I know it's an impossible task, but we can try. And on those rare days when we succeed, we can celebrate with each other the absolute joy that floats up to the top of our little worlds.

That's for you, Trace... the person who loves to hear about good and hope and possibility.

Daisy photos: un-edited and taken by yours truly one stunning morning in my kitchen.

Who knew?

2008-08-21T08:25:00.004-04:00

You all are so kind to ask... Abe is sitting right here watching me type as always. I'll tell you real quick about our beloved Abe, the chocolate lab I adore. He's only 3 and has terrible hips and arthritis already. It's been a heart-breaking journey with him as we've watched his knees give out several times over the past few years... so young, such an amazing personality, such terrible breeding. But, he's a happy dog and we've learned to take care of him. On 3rd of July, I threw a stick for him into the water and he collapsed while turning in the sand... we would learn later that his left ACL ruptured. This left us with 3 ridiculous options:

surgery, understanding and expecting that his other leg will do the same thing eventually

no surgery and maintenance/low activity for the rest of his 3-legged life

sleep

Honestly, I had settled on sleep. I couldn't bear the thought of dealing with a second broken leg someday and watching him truly suffer. Surgery, while it would fix his ACL, would not heal his hips or arthritis... so we decided it wasn't wise. The day we had set to take him in, we both broke down and refused. So, he lives... lame but happy on the farm... for as long as he can comfortably. It's pretty obvious his knee tissue is scarring over as he puts more weight on it every day- this isn't great, but it will help for awhile. He's a great dog and we love him so much. Obviously, there are a few dog lovers out there reading, and we know you understand the strange but wonderful strings animals pull on your heart. They are pets, but they are family.

And now, here is My Love, being beautiful at the river. Love her. She was so great in and around the water. Respectful, but adventurous. Cute as a button. Often naked. Just as it should be. Our trip was very relaxing... one day in camp at the river, one day out of camp at a new swimming hole, repeat times three. Add in family dinners with 6 other kids and their parents, some books about vampires, and smores every night, and you've got a pretty good picture of what my life was like a week ago. It's was not a bad way to live.

Who knew I had given birth to Steve from Multiplicity? I know. I'm as shocked as you are. I kid you not, if this child's first sentence is, "I like pizza!" I may die on the spot.

We're on Jim and Denise's pontoon here... a wonderfully indulgent way of easing back into normal life after camping for a week. Thank you, Burrows family. It was an absolute joy.

This picture kills me. SPACE CADET. Earth to Rylie, come iiiiin, Rylie. She's actually staring at Abbi who is off-camera playing with an orange construction cone the campground uses to mark reserved campsites. We got a lot of use out of the cones in our week of camping. They can be a lot of things, is all I'm sayin'.

Please note this child's outfit. She dressed herself. Day-old brown pants, folded over at the waist and wearing very thin at the knees. Pink and green filthy tank top. Red hooded sweatshirt, which only comes off her body when she is in a dead sleep. And the hunting/camo vest, which is her prized possession in life. We wear it ALL DAY with ANYTHING. Sometimes, we wear it with nothing.

There are lots more vacation pictures are here.

Monday: a story about parking lots.

Happy Weekend to you all.

Please come help me do laundry.

imagine me being all sing-songy 'HELLLLLLUUUU!!'-ish

2008-08-18T10:05:00.012-04:00

This post will be the thrill-equivalent of watching me hang laundry out to dry.

Ahh. We are back. Back with that happy but extremely sad kind of feeling in our stomachs. The Boy headed glumly off to work this morning and I sifted through JUNK. MAIL. Lawdy. Rylie has resumed her morning shoe-taking-out-of-the-closet ritual, and all seems right with the world. I have gobs to share, vent, and explore... but first and foremost, there are some thanks in order.

To Mike and Doug... who checked in on our place when there were gaps to be filled- Thank you. I give you moss-covered stone from the Upper Peninsula.

To Natalie... sister-in-law extraordinaire who met us half-way the night before we left to pick up our dog Abe with his broken leg so he would not be alone for a week... THANK YOU SO MUCH. I give you natural slate from the bottom of the Presquile River and also a couple of purple flowers.

To Renae... the best house-sitter/animal lover/garden checker/post-partum nurse/friend ev-ah... thank you. You rock every house I know of but especially mine. Seriously, Renae. What would we do without you? Your porch room will be finished by Fall and I expect you to move in immediately after. I give you this shell, found at Indian Lake on the way home. There was/is a snail living happily in it... house-sitting, if you will.

And, finally, to our niece Hailey who went to Camp Roger while we were away and sent us a postcard. On notebook paper. Without a complete address. And all it said was 'jellyfish'. We love you so much and I have never laughed so hard when checking the mail. Thank you. For you, a mossy log with lots of grubs under it.

Allow me to start this mountain of laundry, dress this child, upload some photos, go to the grocery store (!!!), and watch a little Olympics. I shall be back Thursday with a little more of this adorable child:

lest you call me a tease...

2008-08-07T08:45:00.002-04:00

Here is the dress!

Thanks for all your sweet comments about it Monday... there are more photos over on flickr.

You will be miffed when I tell you how simple it was. It's important for you to remember that I am both lazy AND creative... and sometimes that combo just works!

I bought 2 yards of apron fabric for $3 a yard. The ridiculously cute and old-fashioned cherry trim was already on the fabric. I measured around me a little less than twice and cut it. I hemmed the top and the bottom, and then I sewed up the back (think large tube here). I wound some e lastic thread on my bobbin and sewed for 7" to make the bodice. A couple of strategically placed straps later, and I am good to go.

I have worn this every. day. for a week now. I've never made anything that I would actually wear out and about- this is very exciting to me. I will be making one for every day. OOOOOOOOOh, how cute would that be? Days Of the Week smocked dresses? Break my hearrrrrrt. Ellie, I blame you for this new surge in my sewing courage and productivity. Thank you.

And now, Dear Sweet Readers, I am off. Actually... as we speak I am WAY way way up North in the Porcupine Mountains camping my little heart out. Please forgive me for not answering the comments... I have no phone or computer for the next week. I'm probably sitting in a tree somewhere fake-blogging and going through withdrawal. I will miss you (and Google) terribly.

See you August 18th! Y'all be good now, ya hear?

Hay!

2008-08-04T09:40:00.018-04:00

Alrighty, Folks... it's time for another installment of Farming 101. Grab yer pencils and take a seat.

There is a saying: Make hay while the sun shines. It's true. This time of year, if it's a nice day out, you'll be hard pressed to find a field with no tractor in it. This is busy busy time for farmers. Now is when you prepare for winterpleasedonotsaythatwordagainthankyou. Now is when you take your big ol' lawnmower out to the field, cut pretty little rows, and then bale it all up pretty to stack in your barn. Now is when you are busy as all getout so you can rest later.

Even small operations (like ours) need hay. It's what the animals will chomp on in the colder months when there is no pasture. Since we did not plant anything this year, we bought from our neighbor, Doug. He lives directly across the street. I'd call that local. Love it.

Farmers plant... in this case, alfalfa hay. It grows (it's a grass). You cut it. And here's where God is amazing: it grows again and you cut it again in a couple weeks! Most farmers get 3 cuttings off one field... sometimes 4. That's nice. That's a field doin' some work for ya. Eventually, we will plant our pasture and cut our own. We'll keep the first cut and part of the second, and we'll sell the rest.

You have 2 options when it comes to hay: round or square. 1 round bale = 20 square bales (sorry for the math, folks... but farmin' requires all trades). Now, square bales are comparatively cheaper as well as easier to make/move because the tractors and balers do all the work, but that also requires some pretty pricey machinery. A lot of smaller operations simply do not have the need or means for this kind of big equipment, so they (and we, eventually) make square bales. You have to move the bales yourself. It's scratchy, sweaty, sneezy work. It helps if you wear $18 Wranglers. And also if you're a stud.

Each cow needs about 100 bales for the winter. We happen to have 4 moos at the moment, so we need 400 bales. A simple conversation over at the mailbox (which is where, I am realizing, most conversations and deals take place) resulted in a check crossing hands and a Saturday delivery.

Now, the big red barn is still in pieces... but we do have this pole barn. Last week, additions were made to it (which I aesthetically LOVE) to allow us to store vehicles and hay under. The back part will also have a teensy little upper loft for hay storage AND camping. Genius. Curt headed over to Doug's early Saturday morning with our Farmall M (not, I learned, for Mulder) and our hay wagon. He returned with the first of 3 loads- 125 bales- and Doug, who is an all-purpose neighbor. The kind that helps you put in a new roof, the kind that brings you sweet corn from the garden, and the kind that helps unload hay all morning. I like Doug. Here's a before and after of the pole barn: (the hay's on the West side to avoid the crazy winds we get)

I, obviously, was very busy during all this watching my child and, uh, taking pictures of the sundress I made. Very busy. Rylie loved the whole operation... especially when the bales would thump to the ground and spray dust everywhere. Hilarious.

So, it's Monday now and the winter hay is all stored up safe and dry in the barn- which is great since it's pouring right now. WAY TO DO YOUR JOB, BARN! Our nieces have yet to test out the climb-ability of the mound or the sleep-ability of the hay, but I'm sure that will happen soon.

And there is your Monday lesson on hay. Nice work, folks. Ya did good. Time for recess.

I don't even wanna hear about it.

2008-07-31T07:59:00.005-04:00

I gave in. I had no where else to go. The girl had no. shoes. and I had a gift card. The options in this store were particular store were slim... they seem to sell to those over 75 as well as keep the locals supplied in Crocs. An interesting way to stock, but hey. Times are tough.

Rylie was born loving shoes. She loves things on her hands... socks, mittens, shoes. It's part of her sensory diagnosis... and it's hilarious. The girl raids my closet daily looking for a matching pair of shoes to pad around in. If a guest comes over with the Rubber-Mold Goodies on, game on. Now she has her own. Some Made in China, injection-molded, truly holy, RUBBER SHOES. God Bless America. They're a size too big, in hopes they'll fit sometime this winter. She's officially wearing a 5 1/2, which is cool since I've been cramming her in a 4 lately. I'm awwwwwwwwesome.

I'm not finished yet.

I ALSO went to the grocery store after 9pm (dumb) that night and came home with necessities AND this: 45 seconds? A tablespoon of water? Fudge topping? I'm sorry, but when did they start selling heaven for $1.17? I came home with two of them- feeling guilty and wasteful and un-organic.

There would be penance for my sins this day, though. As I was mixing the 'batter,' I got a bit too excited and a tiny piece flew onto my white tank top. Right in the middle. Up front. I dabbed. I patted. I scrubbed. I turned the whole top of my tank muddy brown. Giving in (for the second time that day), I whipped off the tank top... and got wet, slimy batter all through my un-showered hair. *sigh* Are you KIDDING ME? I mean, seriously. Are you kidding me? No? Ok.

Deciding I did not care- I DID NOT CARE- anymore, I put the bowl in the microwave and ate every tiny bit of it. I had to physically restrain myself from eating Curt's. Hair still sticky, I put my fork in the dishwasher, the Crocs in her shoe bin, the ridiculous plastic brownie bowl in the trash, and myself into bed.

I slept very well.

Back to the simple life today... a little less indulgence, a little more effort. Ry will be wearing her Crocs. On her hands. I... well, I will be wearing a muddy brownish white tank top. And I will be smiling.

Y'all have a great weekend.
Be gentle.

my longest relationship

2008-07-28T07:46:00.004-04:00

Hello.

I've never written a letter like this before, but I just had to. I realize I've taken you for granted, Dearest Favorite Possession, and I am so sorry.

I have left you outside in the rain, sticky with mud, but you did not complain.
I have tromped through sticker weeds, but you protected me.
I have carelessly jumped from boulder to boulder, never once thinking you would cancel your loyalty to me and my safety.
I have walked miles upon miles in you, and you never quit on me. You never quit.

You are my Chacos, and I love you. Unconditionally. Forever.

I have worn you to church, smart and sassy with a flippy skirt.
I have worn you camping, dusty with campground dirt and burning embers.
I have worn you hiking, pushing you to your absolute performance limits.
I have never worn you with socks, believing you to have all the beauty you need in your own design.
You have never failed me. You are everything and nothing all-in-one... emm, two.

I bought you 10 years ago, in the presence of dear friends. I don't know if they know they witnessed the beginning of a true, heartfelt, and committed relationship... honestly, I didn't know at the time myself. I'd been let down so many times before... I didn't know. I didn't know.

You have never been re-soled. You have never frayed. You are as pure as the day I brought you home. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Please don't ever leave me... or, each other. I would cry. For a long time.

KatieKate

Do you have a love I should know about?

let me rock your world a bit

2008-07-24T08:01:00.004-04:00

I do not, in fact, scrapbook. I don't. I know you don't believe me. I know you think this would be a perfect pastime/passion/outlet for me. I know you think I am missing out on MAKING. MEMORIES. CREATIVE. FOREVER. But, the truth is, I am not a scrapbooker. I do not attend Crop-alongs. I do not own letter templates. My only stickers are leftover from my mother's desk and have little smiley faces and A+! on them... not exactly scrapbook material.

I hope we can still be friends.

I do love women who scrapbook, though. Their pages are ahhhh-mazing and so beautiful and so creative. I envy their special pens. I love their cutouts. I've been known to shed a tear or two over a poignant page. I bet their chicken soup heals sickness quicker than mine.

[complete and total sidebar: When I first moved to Michigan, I was a nanny... first for a family of 5 kiddos and then to a family of 4 kiddos. The second family added 'minor scrapbooking' to my duties since all of the children attended at least a half-day of school. All her photographs were separated for each child and organized chronologically. I could use any and all of her supplies. My job was to simply get the pages in the book, leaving space for her to journal later. Basically, I was in charge of layout and matting. Not bad. Back in the day, I was paid $6 per whole page (front and back). Fortunately my lack-of-desired-scrapbook-perfection paid off here, as the goal was not to create award-winning backdrops and glitter pages... she simply wanted books cute and finished before the children graduated. I offer this story as inspiration for some of you out there living near or with affluent families and are looking for fun/creative/simple work you can do at home. This would be it. Put up some business cards in the women's room at the gym and at the Country Club pool and you'll be raking in $10 per page plus supplies in no time.]

Here are some other things you'll be surprised to know:
I was fluent in German as a child.
I do not enjoy pastries.
I love me some heavy metal.

Of the vehicle variety, that is.

This past weekend was the company party, and off-years it's held at the local race track. I love the races. I love the smell. I love the people. I love the awful popcorn. I love how they have a local person sing the anthem and how people actually sing along. I love the way the chaplain prays for the drivers and the soldiers abroad. I love the way Dads sit with their boys. I love that the drivers are so passionate about their hobby/work. I'm a fan.

I hope we can still be friends.

The Boy works with his brother-in-law, so company parties are a bit of a family affair for us. The youngest kiddos stayed home for the night, including Ry, but H and M came out for the show. The girls projected winners for every race, of course, and Marli was supremely dedicated to her drivers. Every time her car went around, she whooped and gave the driver a double peace sign. Love that.

Peace out.

therapy

2008-07-21T12:23:00.014-04:00

All these therapists are kickin' Mamma's buns. We have an appointment, meeting, or playschool almost every day of the week. I am, in a word, unscheduled when it comes to daily life now that I have a child. I hope to be better at this when Ry is old enough to go to things by herself (like Walker and his summer camp)... I don't want her to be the last kid on the sidewalk holding her teacher's hand waitin' for her mamma to come pick her up.

Let's be clear. When I say unscheduled, I really mean lazy. I can be incredibly productive when I want/need to... like if The Boy is due home in an hour and I've got nothing to show for myself for the day.

My girl is 20 months-old today. We are thrilled to report that someone in the TexasNorth household carries a photogenic gene. You see few pictures of Mom and Dad (and especially Mom and Dad together) on the blog simply because we both take ridiculous pictures. My mouth is always open and The Boy's eyes are always closed. Ry, on the other hand, well... it's hard to take a bad picture of her. I realized this morning that these photos of Ry at this age will always remind me of therapy.

...speech therapy
...physical therapy
...occupational therapy

blah blah blah

They will remind me of a time when I received a much needed education in unconditional love from a child who could not walk or talk. They will remind me of a particular Summer full of fireflies and hammocks and chickens and kittens and new cows. They will remind me of a time when my Baby was changing and fighting and just so absolutely amazing every day, despite failing every official test she was ever given.

I made my best girl a dress this weekend using elastic thread. I will now make her wear it every day until she cannot get it over her teeny little body. Why it took me try this, I do not know. I was afraid. I was nervous. I was lazy. But, I am changing. My little girl is an amazing example of how change is really possible... not just some fairytale floating out there on an unattainable star. I am learning to learn from her. She's a pretty fun teacher. Sassy, but fun. And, she dresses pretty cool, eh?

evidence

2008-07-17T10:07:00.013-04:00

of routine...[breakfast]

of summer...[firefly jars]

of afternoon peace and quiet... [Mamma restin' while baby sleeps]

of ambition...

[clothes for Peanut]

of art... [a handmade gift from Annie]

of farming...

[chickens in their yard]

of growth...

[cherry tomatoes in the garden]

of silliness...

[Ry playing peek-a-boo]

the minors

2008-07-14T10:24:00.008-04:00

Dear Rylie,

Just a quick (?) letter to update you on a couple breakthroughs we've had over the past couple weeks. No doubt, you know some therapists have been coming to visit you. We try to make these appointments early in the morning, as you (and I) are known to tire quickly of interviews and prodding and suggestions and small talk. Amy came last week... your physical therapist. After 45 minutes of 'sit like this,' 'grab this,' and 'just try one more time,' you picked up one of her toys and placed it in her tote bag. With all genuine sweetness, you then looked up at her, waved bye, and said clear-as-day, "Bye-bye."

I think, my dear, you were finished. This was officially your first word, though I will always believe you said 'llama' at three months. The "bye-bye" had a witness, so we'll mark that one down for posterity. Nice job, Doll. Nice job.

As if that weren't enough work for a silly one and a half year-old, the other night you took 4 steps. FOUR unassisted STEPS. You were tired. You were silly. You were happy. You've not tried again since, but we are all so very very proud of you. You continue to teach others about patience and joy and individuality. You are a wonderful teacher.

I cannot mail this part to you, but I'll put it on a cd with your other videos. You have a particular love for music, Child... and have become quite proficient at the harmonica. While this does not register on any of the tests your therapists give you, I personally think this makes you hilarious and absolutely my favorite person of all time.

So, happy day to you, Sweet Girl. We are all celebrating with you!!!

I love you.

Let's go grocery shopping. It is, after all, Monday.

Love,

Mom

a smattering

2008-07-10T07:51:00.009-04:00

As mentioned before, we spent the 4th of July up North in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan camping. We're a serious tent-camping family, without a doubt. It was an amazing weekend... absolutely gorgeous weather, a warm lake to swim in, fireworks, big boats, lots and lots of sand. The only very sad part is the 14 foot-high pile of laundry in my basement mocking me.

Last night, I tricked a bunch of musicians and their families into coming to TexasNorth for some burgers and a wagon ride. We're a funny group, if I do say so myself. I wouldn't trade a single one of you. Trace, you and yours were unbelievably missed. I seem to only take pictures of kiddos these days... their faces in Summer tell such a perfect story. Here's Miss Jubilee. Is she not everything her name implies?

Summers here (or anywhere, I suppose) are magical to me. Fireflies and tall grass and pale pale blue twilight sky. It stays light out well past 10pm here at TexasNorth. That makes for some tired eyes in the morning, but I think it's well worth it. Thank you for playing with us, Friends. We love you so so very much.

Don't hate me forever, but I've got a date with Lyle tonight (and The Boy). I'll be wearing my boots, of course, and inviting Lyle over for apple pie. I'll let'cha know. Y'all have a good weekend, ya hear? Talk to me soon.

uh... Mother Nature called

2008-07-07T09:18:00.003-04:00

And, She wasn't happy.

Holy cabbage, people. Last Wednesday was craaaaaaaaa-ZY with an emphasis on spooky. We returned last night to a house restored with power. Our neighbors said it came on Saturday morning. Thanks to new appliances with excellent seal-age, all our meat in the freezer was still in fine shape... even the deer head. We were very lucky. As Laura, dear Laura, mentioned, our neighbors, The Walkers, were not so lucky. We walked over last night after unloading the car to check in and invite them over for dinner. Apple pie heals, you know. She mentioned she was able to get a couple photo albums out, which is truly remarkable. I've never seen or heard anything like this storm, folks. The sound that was their house exploding into flames still completely weirds me out. It could have been any of us. I wake up to wonder everyday (The Secret Life of Bees).

We left for Brimley late Thursday evening and camped the holiday away... purposely without electricity. My phone was dead before we hit the highway. It was perfect, amazing, lovely, and restful. But we can talk about that another time. Let's get on with the TexasNorth Reader Appreciation Raffle, eh?

I had hoped to have little gifts for everyone, but time and electricity got away from me. My lovely assistant had to go to bed early last night due to a severe case of 'being off schedule.' That child was another storm in the making. The Boy helped me out instead... shirt-less and stinky from camping all weekend. I wanted pretty pictures of drawing out the winner's names like all the famous blogs do, but honestly, I don't think any of us need to see Camping Boy this early in the morning.

Without further ado...

silly little flowers go to Janna, Shanna, Elly C., Laura, Grace, KMoore, Chelsey, and Diane (Oh how I love these little wire flowers... they are so great for smiles. Keep it on your shelf or maybe tie it to a gift or leave it on a porch as a surprise for a friend who needs a little pick-me-up. You'll all be receiving a different one.)

the knit market bag goes to Rebecca, friend of Jo's who stalks no more (Yay!!! I am so proud of this bag and I am so happy for it to have a good, friendly home!)

Cathy M. wins a brown market bag (Cathy's husband and my father were best friends in high school, and, from what I hear, Dave got Dad in a lot of trouble... or is it the other way around?)

and Erica S. wins the apron (which is so perfect for you, I cannot even stand it... made from an old yellow and brown thrifted sheet!!!)

So, happy Third Blogging Anniversary to me! Thank you for helping me celebrate!!! This little journal of mine has brought me more joy than I could have ever imagined. It has also saves me millions in therapy. My husband and child... and every grocery store clerk within 50 miles... thank you for that. Thank you for reading, for encouraging, for laughing, and for hoping with me! Really. Thank you.

Loving you all so much from TexasNorth...

KatieKate

P.S. Cathy, Grace, and Rebecca... I need your mailing address for your lovelies! You can send it to katiemulderATgmailDOTcom

Hell hath no fury like 70 mph wind gusts.

2008-07-03T07:26:00.002-04:00

Greetings, friends...

This is not Kate. This is Laura. (You may know me from comments as Miss Laura. Or you may know me in person, and...well, I don't know what to say about that :) Kate called me veeeery early this morning to ask if I'd consider writing a guest blog. Y'see, non-GR-types, we had a series of pretty wicked storms yesterday afternoon into the evening, and Kate's without power. And because she's living the simple life in the back 40, they're not expecting to have power restored for about four days.

She also told me that the home of her neighbor two doors down (about a half mile away, I figure)...uhhh...exploded. Apparently lightning hit the electrical line that runs to their house from the street and that was that, there's nothing left. No house, no cars. Kate and Curt were able to find out just this morning that they've confirmed that no one was home when this happened. Can we all let out a sigh and a collective "Thank you, Jesus"?

Until this, the Mulders were planning to leave for a weekend camping trip today, and they're not yet sure what they're going to do...though it doesn't seem there's much reason to stick around.

Anyway, Katie Dear asked me to let everyone know that they're all okay and she plans to be back in full force on Monday. And she especially didn't want her dad to worry. So Mr. Sebeck, your kid is just fine.

And if you're at all curious, you can see the damage my family's dealing with at my blog here. You'll have to check it out later today, as photos are required and my camera needs a-chargin'.

Good chattin' with you, peeps!

treasures

2008-06-30T10:23:00.008-04:00

There was more to my banner day a couple weeks ago... it just took me awhile to get it home. Sauntering out of the salon, my eyes were immediately drawn to the antique store across the way... and, you know, my car just sort of ended up in the back parking lot. They always have these gorgeous, refurbished gliders inside selling for over $300... but this one, oh this one, was just coming off the truck from an estate sale. They hadn't touched it yet. I ran inside with my arms a-flappin' and declared that it was mine AS IS and give me a deal I'm having a really good day! And, shock of the world, they did. I walked away with a $100 glider that badly needs a date with a wire brush and some primer, but oh how I love thee. These are the surprises I save my etsy money for. Now I don't have to covet Sunday's gorgeous porch heirloom anymore. Well, not as much, I should say.

It reminds me of grandmother's porch and her mother's porch... how we'd sit with our jelly jars of Mountain Dew and watch the caterpillars on their exodus. That metal gliding sound, those plastic cushions... it says Summer to me. This one... the one my kid(s) will remember... even has legs on the top so it can fold down like a futon. Brilliant. I see some porch-campouts in our future after I tackle some new cushions.

After a few weeks of novel-length posts, we'll keep this one short. I know we all have laundry and groceries to get to. I've got a sicky kid to love on. Look at her all big on the swing this weekend!

Thursday is the TexasNorth Reader Appreciation Raffle! Don't forget to leave you name in the comments of this post or this one to be included... or even today's. I'll count all three and each person will be entered once. My lovely assistant will help me draw on Wednesday evening for gifts... so comment by 6pm, please, as she needs her beauty sleep.

Love to you all (truly)... get your week started and don't forget the lemonade!!!

edu-macation

2008-06-26T08:27:00.004-04:00

dictionary.com says thusly:

farm –noun
1. a tract of land, usually with a house, barn, silo, etc., on which crops and often livestock are raised for livelihood.
2. land or water devoted to the raising of animals, fish, plants, etc.: a pig farm; an oyster farm; a tree farm.

ranch –noun
1. an establishment maintained for raising livestock under range conditions.
2. Chiefly Western U.S. and Canada. a large farm used primarily to raise one kind of crop or animal

[...which naturally led me to]
range -noun
17. Also called rangeland... an area or tract that is or may be ranged over, esp. an open region for the grazing of livestock.

Erm... so what are we? Farmers? Ranchers? Farm says ' red barn' to me... and we'll have one of those. But longhorns seriously say 'ranch' to me... and we have a 'range'. But we'll also have hay, which screams 'farm' to me. I'm having an identity crisis here. I leave it to you to decide. I'm wearing an apron no matter what.
Many of you have emailed and asked about the whole longhorn thing. 'Why?' you ask sincerely. 'Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?' 'Why not black and white cows?' 'Why not horses?' 'What do you do with a longhorn?' 'Did you just wake up one day and decide you want cows?' 'Aren't you an Aggie and therefore allergic to longhorns? They're gonna take away your diploma.'

All legitimate questions.

First and most importantly, I am an Aggie Class of 1999. I see no problem with an Aggie owning, managing, and being the boss of longhorns. We will, however, be avoiding genetics that lead to orange and white hides. I'm also just kidding about the rivalry here, folks. I'm over 30. It's done.

We will eventually have a couple of horses, for love and for work. When Ry is old enough to ride, we'll start tackling those. Both Curt and I love to ride. It'll happen, but later.

Why longhorns? Well, this is a fabulous story, really. See, longhorns are amazing. They are gentle and beautiful and athletic and lean and long-living (20+ years). I don't know quite how it started, but Curt wanted cows and I wanted a barn with stalls and a pretty fence. We didn't want to raise cows just for eating and such. We wanted a farm that was tangible and friendly. We wanted something unique. We wanted animals we could leave alone for 2 weeks while we went camping. We wanted cows with stories, and we wanted our kid(s) to grow up with them. Longhorns fit all of those characteristics plus have a Texas connection which thrills me to no end.

Longhorns have a terribly romantic history. Closer to extinction than buffalo, one man riding in to save the species, ranchers banding together to save the herd... this stuff has my name all over it! Longhorns can certainly be used for beef, though they take quite a bit longer to mature than your average commercial cow... so that's not a major draw. Longhorns are raised to preserve history and to try for the largest spread of horns. Their horns grow throughout their life, but are largely finished before they are 10 years old. It's really a lot like raising dogs for show. You pay close attention to genetics. You try for good matches and good confirmation and good offspring. It's a hobby. A use for land. A part of history. A good way to practice the old ways.

What will we do? We'll start small (like, 4 cows) and work our way up to less than 50 over the next 20 years. Hopefully, somewhere in there, we'll have some absolutely gorgeous cows that some rich oil man would like to buy for his front yard. And we'll sell those cows and pay for ~~my retirement villa in Tuscany~~ Ry's college. In between, we'll love on 'em and play with them and feed 'em and give 'em a good life. Yes, some will eventually feed my family and yours, but that's part of this whole experience. It does not freak me out.

And that, folks, is the plan plain and simple like.

Here are some definitions that will help you:
cow - a lady who's had a calf OR just one of the herd in general
bull - a boy lookin' for a lady and a little action
steer - a boy that cannot [ahem] reproduce... these boys are for horns and meat
heifer - a lady over 1 year that hasn't produced a calf... she is innocent in the ways of love
pair - a mamma and her calf

I know, right?! It's more interesting than you ever imagined possible.
OR, it's more information than you ever wanted to know.
But I love you for pretending you love it.

Ellie, I'm hoping you'll make cute little ear tags for all of them like the ones you consigned. Wouldn't that be so awesome? I am not even kidding.

[This just in.] People. The cows are here. Yesterday, I was not a farmer slash rancher. Today, I am. Crazy!!! We weren't expecting this for a couple more weeks, but it just worked out for Dave to deliver four late last night. Please come over immediately. I have pie. And cows. And also chickens and a very cute child.

Excuse me, now. I have to go talk to them. Make sure everything's alright out yonder and such. See if they're happy and whatnot. I'll try to get an interview if they're willing.

good fences make good neighbors

2008-06-23T12:29:00.014-04:00

We live in the country. It's hay season... where days and nights are long with work and tractors and wagons and lemonade. You're bound to get caught up behind a convoy of cutters and bailers and kids swinging off the back at some point, and there's no use gettin' fussy. It's hay season, and there is work to be done. Just this morning I followed three tractors for over 11 miles to the grocery store. Three. Tractors. No passing. It was awesome. Rylie, at least, was highly entertained. Did I mention the 11 miles of no passing? ELEVEN MILES. gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

The fence is up, Folks. We had a 5-acre rectangle enclosed (immediately behind the pole barn and back to the top of the ravine, for those of you familiar with TexasNorth) with a 7-wire high tensile fence. It's beautiful. It's clean and straight and electric. I'm gonna paint a sign to put on the gate that says, 'Yep, it's electric and Yep, it's on.' Longhorns are crazy athletic (which explains part of why we Aggies have had some historical trouble with them in football) and need a bit higher fence than your usual cow. We also had a lower wire added in case we decide to add some sneaky goats to our menagerie. Next year, we'll add another rectangle of fence on the other side of the house and start making serious headway on plans to re-raise the Old Red Barn.

Ry's a big fan of sitting on the gate, swingin' her legs, babblin' at all the chickens below her. It's a good place for a kid to be. As I watched her taking everything in, I realize that we have purposely stripped her life down to fences, big barns, and small houses. Wooden toys, old cartoons, lightening bugs. There is no movie theater, no consistant network tv, no marble slab ice cream shoppe nearby. I wonder if she will be sad about that later when she goes to A&M for college and realizes there's a whole other world out there? I suppose I think it's better to add things to your life later by choice rather than start with everything and have to learn to do without when you head out on your own. That's just me talkin' here. It's not so much a city vs. country thing... or an Army vs. civilian thing... or even a rent vs. buy thing. It's just a 'make intentional decisions' thing. We decided to start with less... in the common sense of the word. I am realizing, after our couple weeks of craziness, that this slow life... this simple but hard-working, take-your-time life... is exactly what this child needs. She is supposed to be here...at the farm. It was a shocking, humbling realization as I was once again reminded that there are plans far greater than mine at work.

People out here are serious about work, serious about NASCAR, and serious about fences. We've already had a minor dispute about property lines with our neighbor to the South... and our fence isn't even on the line! We've left room around the entire perimeter to be able to drive it. But, we live in the country. People protect what (they think) is theirs... and rightly so. Actually, it's not just the country. I remember a tree-trimming dispute right downtown! To avoid any future complications, hard feelings, or cow tipping we will be paying to have an official third party come out and drive a stake in the corner of the lot. Better safe than sorry- and it's nothing personal on either side. It's just how things are done out here. This is why The Boy handles these 'interactions' while I nervously bake apple pies inside and leave them on doorsteps after midnight.

The cows- 4 babies born this past Spring- will arrive as soon as our friend Dave is finished cutting his hay... so maybe a week? I know! Super fun. July is wide open for visits after the 4th, so head on out. We'll be here.

luxury

2008-06-19T08:26:00.000-04:00

another photo from Butternut Lake...
*le sigh*

Dude. Yesterday was a banner day for me. I hired a babysitter (I know, right?!) in the middle of the day and went to the salon to get my hair cut, a teensy bit colored, and- this is the killa for me- someone else washed my hair. It is my luxury in life to go to the salon and have someone wash my hair with fun shampoo and fun conditioner and warm warm water. Oh, bless my soul.

I'm not gonna lie. It's been a rough couple weeks for this mamma, and a little time away in a place that smells good and everyone could wipe themselves was exactly what I needed.

I wonder what your luxury is?

I returned to find that the babysitter had emptied my dishwasher (so sweet) and also downloaded aol onto my computer (remove, thank you) AND taken some sneaky photos of her and Ry with my camera. This is all extremely ok with me... again, because someone else washed my hair. Ry was a very happy girl and ate a big dinner and went to bed wearing her candycane pjs. I love her. Just for laughs, check out this video [click] of Peanut last night before bedtime. Pay close attention around the 45-second mark when the girl is laughing so hard she runs out of breath. Oh my lanta. We watched it about 42 times last night.

Hear me: I cannot say enough about all the kind words and letters and emails and books and smiles you've sent my way over the past week. I have returned to them again and again in the sadder moments and always come out better for it. You're good people.

I hope you find a little luxury this weekend.

Blessings to you and yours.

meet the parents

2008-06-16T08:02:00.002-04:00

The TexasNorth Mulders took a collective sigh this weekend and headed to a cabin with the rest of the Dutch side of the family. Six cousins- all girls, 3 'out' laws who married into the fam, 4 Mulder siblings, 2 Mulder parents, 3 large dogs, and 1 boyfriend visiting for the day meeting the parents... bless his ever-lovin' heart.
*
The biggest hit was the moose over the fireplace. Every child under the age of 5 was absolutely enamored with the poor thing. If I were stronger, I'd have carried him home for Peanut. She was greatly saddened to have left him(?) behind. [photo taken by yours truly and altered at picnik.com]
*
There was a day right about now in 2002 when my cousin was graduating high school. My mother's sister's daughter... in Cleveland. My parents were headed north from the Mother Country for the family festivities and I was stuck in San Diego in the midst of Young Life high season. It had already been decided that I was moving to Grand Rapids at the end of the summer, but The Boy just didn't like the idea of a girl moving across the country- unengaged, jobless, and pulling a u-haul- without him having ever met my father.
*
I kid you not, that Boy got off work on Friday night and headed East determined to do things right. My father met him at the door wearing a mesh ball cap, a t-shirt, dockers, and penny loafers with no socks. Rock the vote, Pap. They shook hands, my mother cried, and the boys proceeded to set up 42 million folding tables for the ensuing fish-fry slash family reunion that was blowing in the next day. They've been good friends ever since, and I couldn't be more thrilled. Most of the time.
*
My mother has only one sibling- Aunt Bea. But their father was one of ~~about 17~~ 10 children and thus I am related to most of Cleveland, its surrounding suburbs, and a serious portion of Poland [er... Czechoslovakia... but they were both countries Hiltler hated]. All but the native ~~Polacks~~ Bohemians showed up for that fish fry, and The Boy met every single one of them. He met people I've never even met before. Bless his ever-lovin' heart.
*
You did good, Boy. It was your respect for my family, and especially my father, that made me pack up that u-haul without hesitation and leave SoCal forever. Someday Ry may find herself in a similar situation, and I can only pray her young man will have the sand to drive 5 hours in the dark to meet you before he runs away with her heart and makes her move to a place where there is no sun 6 months out of the year.

You did real good.

funnies

2008-06-12T08:02:00.006-04:00

*I posted a letter to Rylie (that I did actually mail) yesterday about the results of her evaluation. I did this because so many of you were kind enough to ask and because I am terrified of having this conversation 84 ba-jillion times in person where I will cry and stutter and generally make a fool of myself. Words are so much easier here. Thank you... for every bit of everything that you are. A silly, but sincere, little flower for you.*

On to our regularly scheduled program...
some random photos, some hilarity, some conversation, and some cookin'

Saturday evening, before the hurricane hit West Michigan, the TexasNorth Mulders attended Abbi's ballet recital. Curt watched from the seats while Rylie (aka: Crazy Horse that evening) and I quickly found ourselves banished to the hallway watching through the rectangular glass on the doors. She simply could not contain herself amongst the costumes, the music, the dancing. Peanut worked her way onto my shoulders and began a game of peek-a-boo... leaning way over and looking into my eyes upside down. With lightening speed, she then stuck her finger so far up my nose that it started to bleed. And that's why we missed Abbi's scene. Thank you for understanding.

And now, a conversation...

Boy says: Ya know, Girl, I saw this goo in the skillet tonight and pasta in the pot and I was all like, Eh... boooooring. But, man... this is GOOD!

Girl gives Boy a sideways glance and wonders how in the world she ever fell in love with someone who doesn't dig pasta or dream about stroganoff... I'm sorry, goo.

Girl studies Boy a moment and remembers that he is extrememly hot.

Venison Stroganoff
1# ground venison or beef
salt
pepper
garlic
2 white onions, chopped
1 cup sliced mushrooms (if it won't cause an extra session of marital counseling)
3-5 T butter
2 cups of beef broth
3 T tomato paste
2/3 sour cream
pasta of choice

Start your pasta water. Salt and pepper your meat. In a large skillet, saute mushrooms and onions in the garlic and butter until tender. Add meat and continue until meat is browned. Remove from skillet and set aside. Add beef broth and tomato paste to skillet. Stir to make gravy, adding a little flour if necessary to thicken. Add meat mixture back to skillet and simmer until your pasta in finished. Add sour cream in just before serving... or heavy cream if, like me, you happened to be out.

Happy weekend, Friends. We love you here at TexasNorth! We reeeeeeeally do.

*photo above of Ry fending off the Reds. They are crazy friendly. I am not even kidding. I fully expect one of them to invite to tea soon.*

*PS! I totally forgot to tell you, but the smocks/aprons got some love over at Sew, Mama, Sew [click]!!! How fun is that!?*

results

2008-06-11T09:50:00.011-04:00

Dear Rylie,

It appears you will be getting that pony after all. Sneaky little devil, you. As you sit in your crib throwing the mother of all I'm-Almost-Two tantrums, I love you more than ever. The nice ladies from Early On came out yesterday and tested you (us?) for almost 2 hours... and this is what they found:

You have "fluctuating muscle tone." You don't have great control over your muscles, which is affecting your walking and your speech. You tend to make sounds with your mouth closed, implying your voice muscles are not up to speed yet. These are both things we can work on with exercises and the program they offer through Early On. An occupational therapist is going to come visit us next week to do a more in-depth test on some of your skills. Basically, you're doing half the stuff an 18-month kid would do... and the rest, you're not even close on. Like, if I tell you to get me a spoon you head over to the wall and start dancing. I, personally, think this is great... but on paper, not so much.

I know, right?! I was surprised, too. The thing is, Ry... chances are really good you'll simply outgrow this in time. Every kid is so different. But, what if we waited and you didn't and it could have been helped? Well, that's just unacceptable. Even for this laid-back mom. Let's deal with this now, preventatively. You are remarkably social and interactive. This is a good indication that your "special needs" are simply physical and not emotional. Goodness knows, coming from your particular parents, you will have enough emotional needs. We'll deal with those in junior high. Oh man, will we deal.

My favorite part of yesterday was when Ms. C asked you to stack tiny blocks on top of one another. She was looking for 5-6 blocks. You watched her example intently. You picked up two blocks and pressed them together within an inch of their wooden lives. And, then you chucked them bridal-bouquet-style over your head backwards... never taking your eyes off Ms. C. I repeat: You are absolutely the best thing ever.

It's hard to hear you are behind... even just a little bit. I cried during the debrief... and, honestly, on and off throughout the day. I am struggling with the label of "special needs" and the fear of you not being ok. I keep picturing the children I worked with for many years that truly struggled to function. Kids who went to special schools. Kids who were lost inside themselves and couldn't find their way out. In reality, the term "special needs" covers everything (from a national funding standpoint) from pigeon-toes and speech delays to Down Syndrome and beyond. It's a ridiculously broad term... but it gives us access to good people with good intentions and good training, so bring it. I'm over the stigma. I'm back to life, back to reality. I'm fine. Seriously. I just needed a minute (day?) to flip out and now I'm back to the supernatural calm that is me. Apple pie, anyone?

My heart keeps coming back to Samson's parents, Ry (the guy in the Bible with all the beautiful hair). An angel came to Samson's mom and told her she would have a special child. When she told her husband this, he went to the angel alone and asked, "How should I care for this special child?" [Judges 13]. What a beautiful question. I pray that I will be a mom to continuously ask God that question: "How should I care for Rylie?"

My promises to you:
I will put aside my pride and hesitations and ask every question I can think of.
I will dance and walk and repeat vowel sounds with you incessantly.
I will neither take credit for your wonderfulness nor carry blame for your struggles. You are not wholly mine. This is a big one, Ry... and I admittedly have a long way to go here.

I will continue, every day, to ask God "How should I care for Rylie?"... and I will listen. Because I love you. And because you are so dadgum funny. And because you are, obviously, special.

Now, where to find a pony...

Love,
Mom

ooopsie

2008-06-09T09:16:00.018-04:00

My veggies have been coming in boxes packed with biodegradable packing peanuts. The first box came with a flyer that said, "Please water these into your lawn!" The second box didn't come with the same flyer, but I figured they figured I was a seasoned veggie-box opener and therefore, saved the flyer paper. I, of course, made a big show of dumping the peanuts off the front porch. The Boy, of course, was not thrilled but I assured him sweetly and with a Gardener's Knowledge they would quickly disappear in the hurricane that was approaching. I seem to have been wrong. That's only ever happened one other time in my life. Thank you for sharing this moment with me.

In the midst of the hurricanes this weekend, I was able to check a few things off my I Promise List. Love that.

First: Way back when, I asked all of you to start taking a look at etsy and other home-grown crafters. I promised you a little somethin'-somethin' if you signed up... and then I ran and hid for 6 months. Alas, I have not forgotten you! I'm making you veggie bags, and here is the mock-up. A cotton, knit bag that stretches like crazy and is perfect for throwing in 2 green peppers, 1 cucumber, a head of lettuce, and 4 sand toys. I need to add on the handles, obviously, but I'm pretty happy with this very rough version. It's my first "very own" pattern. I plan to make three of these and have a random drawing for them. The rest of you lovely people who signed up will receive a beaded flower that is my go-to "I love you gift." And you can give it away. It won't hurt my feelings. Much.

Second: Meet Cortney and Chelsey. Cort's drawin' me some animals and Chels sent me GOBS of fabric and both are just as lovely as could be. For their services, I promised to make them aprons. I used the pattern found here and left off the ties and darts... less 1950s and more art-class smock-ish. Why these took me so long to get these started I have no idea, but I love them. All told, it took about an hour of sewing for 2 aprons. Awesome. I'll be randomly drawing for one of these babies, too, out of the Etsy list. It's a great, simple little smock with a button and pockets. So lovely. Chels, I was feelin' the whole English-rose-Austen thing for you. Cort, it was sass all the way.

I got to use my new label stamp!
And here's a picture of my mousey face for Tracy.
Wow. Those aprons are very wrinkled.

Don'tcha love my little helper?

Oh, hey- we have an evaluation scheduled for tomorrow at 9:30am with a physical therapist and an Early On rep. Think of us, if you remember. We've already improved our walking in the last week, and I expect it to go well. I do need to clean. Those packing peanuts are everywhere.

Now on to more Promise List... after I read your Name Stories again from last Monday. Man, do I love me some family history! I'm still laughing at Bec's, "No- I couldn't stand that woman." Classic.

And PS: If you'd like to be in on the drawings (which will happen the first week in July), just leave me a note below! You can play... you just have to say hello! We'll call it the TexasNorth Reader Appreciation Raffle. I already have you down if you commented way back when. Up for grabs: 3 cotton veggie bags, 1 smock, and happy little flowers for giving or for keeping.

anatomy

2008-06-05T11:37:00.020-04:00

We got up before God was awake this morning to have breakfast with Kevin and Sarah, who are in town from Sacramento. It was lovely... except for my husband who was running around the house this morning saying, "Goooooooood morrrrrrning, Kate! Isn't this FUN? It's like we're married! Isn't fun to get up together? GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD MOR. NING. Good morning. Hey, Kate? Good morning." I shot him and now he is dead. After breakfast, Ry and I hit the grocery store. It's like 6 o'clock now, right? When can I go to bed?

Today, class, I would like to share with you the anatomy of a Chicken Coop. Fantastic, some of you are saying. But, look. This here is the start of a farm slash ranch and therefore you must deal with the farm-ness of it all. On the other hand, I know some of you actually really dig all the farm talk. It's different from 'normal life' these days. This is for you.

Ok. The chickens have been living here. (to your left) This is the coop Curt and I (sike... jus' the Boy) built in an afternoon, 'member? It has worked perfectly for the past 2 years. Now that we have 25 chickens we plan to protect from fox and hawk, we figured it was time to make a little more permanent structure.

Being in construction, The Boy comes across a lot of lumber, barns, trusses, etc. that are on their way to the burn pile. This entire coop, save the foundation, is all reclaimed and recycled... from the floor to the studs to the roof. I love that boy. The siding is from an old oak barn and in covered in 100% lead paint, I am sure. It's been scraped and there's no paint on the inside, so we're ok.

There's an old kitchen window here, complete with screen, that will face South. This will let in lots of light in the winter and help keep the birdies laying those yummy brown eggs. That little rectangle there is just a little peeping window for me... maybe a little window box will live there one day. And, a butterfly bush.

I can stand up in this coop! Just inside the door will be a little storage area for food, potting materials, AND... 2 doors for grabbing eggs. Then, another door for entering Chicken-ville. It's hard to tell here, but those two larger rectangles will be the back of 6 nests where the hens will lay. I'll be able get the eggs from the storage side without gettin' in their business. Very cool. And, see... there's the little peeping window behind it? The inside dividing walls are not finished yet... just studs for now.

There will be two covered "yards"... plenty of room for chicks to play outside and scratch and drive the kittens nuts. There will be a roof to keep Mister Hawk away. Curt has made 2 doors that attach to pulleys in the storage area. so I can open a chicken yard without having to actually walk inside their area. Brilliant, that man. Seriously. This thing could pass a permit inspection.

There's also a larger hole on the North side that will allow me to sweep out the coop. The shavings and hay and feathers and bird poo will go right out that hole and into a pile next to the garden. Genius. So, you're looking at the North side of the coop here (to your left)... there's a people door, then my sweeping-out-the-poo door, and then a chicken yard door around the corner. Yes? The roof is tin and makes a wonderful sound in a thunderstorm... like we're having right now. It will match our porch roof coming later this summer.

And that's really all it takes, folks. I never really planned on having chickens... the first batch was an accident, you know. But they are so easy and so funny. They keep visitors' children busy for hours! And those eggs... oh, man. Even store-bought-organic-free-range-massaged-daily chicken eggs can't touch the taste from ones outta yer backyard. They're fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that I've decided when Curt takes over the world, I'm going to buy you all one of these: click here. How awesome are those???

So, there you go. A chicken coop. Come on over... they'll put on a show for you.
Happy weekend, folks. Y'all come back now, ya here?

And, no, Curt's not dead. I love him so much.
After 9am.

what you may not know

2008-06-02T10:12:00.011-04:00

At the risk of repeating myself for the eight-thousandth time, I must tell you that I love you. We, and our ouchies, are doing just fine here at TexasNorth. At the suggestion of many of you, I have turned in a referral with Early On. They, amazingly, do not close down for the summer. And, I really like what they say: Don't worry, but don't wait. So, we will have an evaluation because she is a late walker and I completely understand that. I know that my doctor is a good man who sees my child through the eyes of science... and only at 6-month intervals. It's legitimate that he would want to look at things closer to cover the bases, and I appreciate that. It is not his opinion that chafes so much as the whispers of a few around me... but such is life. I live and breathe with my child 24 hours a day, and I know that she is fine (yes, whatever the test results). I know that she is laid-back and she is fine. Your words of encouragement and humor and empathy only solidify my confidence and I so so very much love you for that.

We took a break this weekend and headed East to cheer on friends who were showing their dog in a couple of events at Kensington Park on Saturday and Sunday. It was a good excuse to break out the tent for the first time in 2008, get dirty, and do a whole lot of sitting. There are some pretty hilarious photos here on flickr, but my favorite is to your right... on the way home. Everyone ditched Mamma and headed off into dreamland. How ridiculous is this photo?! It was a good weekend. Good company, good laughs, good show, and very good timing. Our front yard looks like a yard sale as we dry out a few things, but we blend right in to our neighborhood now.

And, now, to today. I've been needing to tell you something: I am absolutely not pregnant. Trust me, I'll let'cha know. What I am is a girl who goes by a nickname of her middle name. I was born Mary Kathryn Sebeck, and have always been Kate or Katie. There was one long semester in 2nd grade when I was too embarrassed to tell Mr. Kirby to call me Katie and so I was 'Mary' until Christmas, but for the most part... I am Katie. Mary Kate, if I'm in big trouble.

I was named after my father's favorite Aunt... Mary Kathryn Murray... who was always Aunt Kate. I never knew her, but the stories abound... and there's always a smile on the face of the StoryTeller. One year not too long ago, my Aunt Patty (the Aunt who is Keeper of Things, as opposed to Aunt Regina who is Knower of Family Things or Aunt Mary and Aunt Ron who are Aunts who both Dated Different Men Named Melvin) gave me a small box with a small diamond ring snug inside. "It was Aunt Kate's," she said, "And since you were named for her, you should have it. I've been keeping it just for you." A treasure! A ring for a miner's daughter... an engagement ring, though she remained single her entire life. A real family mystery...

I love it. And I know I would have liked Aunt Kate very much.

I wonder what the story is behind your name?

pirates

2008-05-29T13:04:00.014-04:00

Dear Rylie,
*
You are now 18 months and a week old.

Let me begin by saying that you are beautiful. Absolutely stunning. People stop me every day, every where to look at you... to finger your curls... to brush your rosy cheeks. You are a gorgeous child.

You have decided you like to eat... though, you will only do it on your terms. Blueberry muffins, peanut butter sandwiches, chicken nuggets, and cottage cheese... these are your mainstays. You eat things in very strange combination, but you eat and I do not question.

You are not really talking. I suppose your fluent Chinese doesn't count. You do communicate, though. Incessantly. You have a word for bellybutton, cow, mamma, cat, and chicken. Your newest thing is shrieking in happiness... like turning the corner in the grocery aisle Tuesday and seeing a display of bendy straws. The sound that came out of your body sent 3 workers rushing to our aid only to double-over laughing at your glee. Straws. You just liked the straws.
*

You weighed in at 21 pounds this morning- that's the 15th percentile, and way up from the 5th percentile the last time. Nice job with the peanut butter sandwiches. You're also 36 inches tall... or 38, I can't remember now. But that's the 55th percentile... rock on with your average self!

Ry, you are not walking yet. You are a very cautious child... no climbing down off of things, no slippery things, no walking without holding our hands. Dr. H is concerned about how you don't bend your knees... about your 'peg legged pirate walk.' He wants you to go in for developmental and neurological testing. Excuse me while I die a little bit.
*
You are sleeping off the poison they put in you right now... your cheeks are red and your eyes are puffy from crying, but you are sleeping now... and you're gorgeous. I am trying to turn off this ticker tape in my head... was it my medicine? Was it the bug spray I used when you were growing? Is it your vaccinations? Is there radon on our soil? Did I carry too much during the 9th month? -or- Are you completely fine? Do you just like walking like a pirate and growling like a bulldozer?
*
I called to make you an appointment but was told everyone is on vacation for the Summer and they'll call me in August. Erm... I don't really think that's gonna cut it for us. You don't just say the words "neurological concern" and then put me on hold until August. So, I'm working on that for you. I'm on it. Mamma's on it! Mamma's on it every minute of the day until someone gives me an answer.
*
I swear, Child. If this is all just a funny pirate joke to you, you'll be on animal poop duty for the rest of your chore life. And, if it's not a joke and we have a roads of therapy ahead of us... well, I'll buy you a pony. And also, whatever else you want. I'm not kidding.
*
You are 18 months old and a week today. And you are exactly the same child now that you were when you were born. I'm still getting to know you. And I'm gonna learn how to take care of you... you, in all your beauty and all your uniqueness. A girl pirate. That's awesome.
*
I love you,
Mom

please hold

2008-05-29T08:02:00.001-04:00

must take child to 18-month check up

must find other shoe

must brush teeth

must find keys

be back by 2

please leave a message at the beep

Memorial Day

2008-05-26T08:02:00.003-04:00

Today is Memorial Day.
It's a day to remember.

Moina Michael, who started the tradition of wearing red poppies on Memorial Day to honor those who died serving the nation during war, wrote this:

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

***

I do not relish war. But, the reality is that we live in a broken world with broken people with broken hearts... and therefore, we will always have war.

To you who serve and have served, thank you.
To you who did not come back, we love you and we miss you.
To you who govern and make hard hard decisions, we pray for you.

And we, we who stay behind, we will continue to dream of peace and amber waves of grain and healing. One day... one fine day, all will be right again. I pray and hope and remember for that day.

Ernie, friend... we love you. Today will always be your day.

the four one two

2008-05-22T08:02:00.008-04:00

Let us skip past the part where I tell you that I got to use my new address stamp for the first time... on the envelope to mail my check in for the accident and ticket last Wednesday. Mmmmhmmm. Let's gloss right over that and chat about the stamps real quick.
*
A few of you kindly asked how in tarnation the stamp thing happened and I am happy to tell you: very simply. I typed me up some stuff on Microsoft Publisher (a part of Microsoft Office) with my favorite typewriter font, and then I bent it into a circle using the 'circle' button. Then I typed up a plain ol' straight address stamp in the same font. Then I saved those two files. Then I emailed Cindy at Ben's Rubber Stamps and said, "Hi. I want to make these 2 pictures into wooden-handled rubber stamps. One big circle, one little circle, and one address doo-hickey. Yes?" And Cindy emailed me back and said, "Sure. They'll be ready on Friday." And they were. That's it. You can do it, Peeps!
*
Jami hand-delivered my lovelies and brought along her two youngest children. Lydia had returned to check on her chicken, Amy. Lydia also said she wanted to stay forever. Amy was not available for comment. Hannah had come to love on Salt and Pepper, the kitty cats. Hannah will now demonstrate how to hold and not hold a kitten:

yes... and not so much... .

Which brings me to Salt and Pepper. You've not met them yet. See, I was at the local nursery last week looking for cabbage and this fancy schmancy lady (read: wearing makeup) was there with her kittens and talkin' about how she was gonna have to take them to a shelter. Are you kidding me? Those little kitties hopped right in my back seat and are now happily stalking sawdust and nails in the pole barn.

I dragged Jami back to the nursery (Jami, you are highly featured in this post.) because, well, I still needed my cabbage and because Jami is my random field-trip buddy. I promised we would only come home with plants. Jami comes to the nursery with a list and a map of her house. Jami is prepared. She is looking for plants by their scientific names. I, on the other hand, wonder why things can't be grouped by color. Jami asks me what my 'plan' is for the Shoebox, landscaping-wise. Like, do I have a color scheme? No (but that is a brilliant idea). What species of strawberries do I like the best? The red ones. Do I know of a yellow, part-shade plant that is less than 24 inches tall? In fact, I do not. Well, what are you looking for? Pretty things. I am looking for pretty things that I won't kill. Time will tell.

I would like to report that my peat-pot starter vegetable garden is growing well. I shall transplant into Mamma Garden this weekend and the next. This will involve a lot of digging and, I suspect, a lot of ~~whining~~ lemonade on my part. Some little sprouts are already... sprouting! I would tell you which ones, but Rylie removed all my popsicle stick labels. I have a feeling some of my squash is going to look an awful lot like broccoli. Love that kid.

Thanks for the book, Pap. Aaaaaaaaaah, you so funny, old man! Remember that I'll be caring for you in your old age. Be nice to me, or you'll sleep with the cows.

the four one one

2008-05-19T08:53:00.022-04:00

There are 42 million reasons why I love all of you, why I read about all of you, why I incessantly talk about all of you to people who do not know you. Most of those reasons are found in last Thursday's comments. You absolutely rock my world.

Folks, a little crafting for you today. My little arthritic fingers have been busy over here... staying up late, watching Law and Order, buzzing away on some custom orders and new ideas. May I share?

In the middle of my insanity last week, I popped in City Knitting and bought two pair of circular knitting needles. But, not just any needles. Addi Turbo needles. Sometimes... ok, all the time... good tools make all the difference, right Jim?

I've been working on a canvas for a sweet lady in North Carolina, whose accent is simply charming. These canvases are 16x20 and flat, so they fit in picture frames nicely. Each scene is hand-cut from my fabric stash (Do those patterns look familiar, Sunday?). I fill in the 'sky' area with quotes and Scripture and messages from friends and family. I have really fun art pens for that part. (Miss Chris, I know you'd appreciate them.) This is the third canvas I've made. It's the closest I come to drawing and designing free-hand, and I love that.

Celebration banners! These are prolly my favorite thing to make, though they are the most labor intensive. I love picking out the flag fabrics, cutting out their names, making the tape, thinking of the party when it will hang above a happy kiddo. I still have 4 of these to go, with a self-imposed deadline of August 1st.

And, I made a stamp! Why not? I've been working on a logo for awhile now, and finally came up with something I love. It says 'TexasNorth KatieKate' around the outside and 'I made this for you.' on the inside. I wanted it to look like an old passport stamp... typewriter font and round. This stamp will be used on packages, on cards, and on fabric as a label. You can make anything these days! Thank you, Microsoft Publisher.

And finally, a project for you: Freezer Paper Stenciling! Now, this has been around, um, forever... but I know some of you are new to the craft world, so I'll put my version out there. It's the easiest craft I know of. For a girl like me, who never got to Bedazzle anything, it's heaven. You need: a razor blade, a cutting board, freezer paper (found right next to the aluminum foil in grocery store), some fabric paint, a little paintbrush or sponge, and your computer.

First, find a silhouette you love... think simple here: black and white, clear lines, etc. (Remember that photos, patterns, and fabrics are copyrighted. Don't plan on selling anything you make unless it's public domain art. If you find something you love, like this fairy by Karl Johnson, it's proper to ask the artist before you save it to your computer... even for personal use. Be good.)

Now, transfer that photo or clip art to a Word document and adjust the size to whatever you'd like. Take that freezer paper and trim off a piece that's 8.5 x 11 inches so it fits in your printer just like a regular sheet of paper. Ideally I like to print on the non-waxy side to avoid smudging, but I can never remember which way to put the paper in. Details, you know. Magic! You have your letters or your picture on your freezer paper and now you need to cut it out. Warning: this part is highly addictive. Grab your cutting board and cut out the figure carefully. This little lady was altered to hold a heart instead of a tooth. You're going to take your cut-out and lay in on the fabric, waxy-side down. Press the paper with your medium-hot iron onto your fabric. This temporarily adheres the freezer paper to you fabric and gives you nice, crisp lines for painting. It's genius, really. Sponge your paint on, let it dry, and then rip off the freezer paper. Love. It. This is a great project with kids (as long as mom cuts the picture out), or for baby presents, or on bags that need a little sprucing up, or on t-shirts... the possibilities are endless. Jami says if you run an iron over the finished product, your design will last forever. I never doubt Jami.

To recap: print, cut, press, and paint. It's that easy.
I firmly believe I can finish the laundry today. I shall go.

Love to you all... and happy creating!

when it rains, it pours

2008-05-15T08:01:00.007-04:00

Twice in the past 4 days, I've left the sunroof and/or windows open in the car during a torrential Spring rain shower. I have the wet corduroys to prove it.

Peanut fell off the (non-moving, non-on) lawnmower Tuesday and couldn't get her hands out quick enough. She now has an awesome bruise inbetwixt her eyes and a line across her cheek. I was right there. I don't know how it happened. I broke my daughter's face. I expect CPS to show up any day now.

I tried to pay our Discover bill a little too close to the edge (waiting for one more paycheck deposit) and received our first late fee. Electronic payments take 4 to 7 days to post, Peeps. Who knew? They were kind enough to remove the late fee but can do nothing about the finance charges, which are ironically almost as much as the original bill. Being dumb can be very expensive.

I rear-ended someone at a stop sign on my way out of the big city yesterday. There is nothing in this world that can make you feel dumber than hitting something that is sitting still... except maybe the witness who stopped in case I was going to flee the scene and kept repeating, "I just can't figure out why you went when there was someone in front of you! It was so strange! I was like, What are you doing???" I dunno, Lady. It was an ACCIDENT and therefore, un-planned. It's been over 10 years since I was in an accident. Never has it been my fault. And, even though my accident ticket is less than the parking tickets my husband periodically brings home, I still. feel. dumb.

Every car trip with Rylie is a race against nakedness. From the time we finished lunch with Renae to the time of the accident, she had one shoe off. By the time the police officer finished the accident report, Ry had the other shoe off, both socks off, half a pant leg off, and was working on a sleeve. I'm amazed we were able to get out of there without a citation for Indecent Exposure. She loved the flashing blue and red lights, though. She kept pointing in the rearview mirror with wide eyes and saying, "Mmmmmm! Mmmmmmmm!" Yes, Dear. I got those just for you today.

I thought, since the week was already going so well, that I should go ahead and just rob a gas station or something to round it out...but I was wearing a Gap shirt and Earth shoes and it just didn't feel right. I think I'm jus' gonna head on down to the county jail and ask them to lock me up for awhile. For your safety.

I read all of your comments, usually several times. When they're especially nice or funny (like Monday's), I print them out on pink perfumed stationery and sleep with them under my pillow thinking maybe your goodness will seep into my brain at night and I'll wake up a better person.
Thank you.

Stories of ~~stupidity~~ humility now accepted.

And y'all be careful this weekend, mmmm'k?

perspective

2008-05-12T10:15:00.009-04:00

We're letting go. I cried easy tears last Sunday in church... the kind of tears that come from the deep realization that this girl will be leaving "home." Church. A new church. A closer church. It's hard to explain. As I looked around, I saw family and heart and hurt and the tears just came. It may be 6 months down the road, it may be 2 years... we honestly do not know yet. The reality is, we live 45 minutes away from our church. We believe church is active community, and we simply cannot be involved to the extent we want to be from 4 zip codes over. It has been our home for 6 years now, and I have never left a church before.

I am still wading through all of this. I hate leaving things. I don't gather things without purpose and so to leave something behind is a really hard decision. What will I be without it? We knew that moving to TexasNorth would change our lives. We expected it and we desired it. Saying goodbye to some things has been difficult... as it should be. But, I do not regret our decision to follow our hearts and drive a dirt road everyday.

Country living has few requirements. People keep to themselves but are always available when you need them. Even when you need them at 11:30pm with their tractor and a tow strap. Ask me how I know this. After being out here for the past 18 months, I can honestly say the only 'rule' I've come across is the 'greeting from afar' rule- the 'wave'. But, that's not hard, really. It's almost instinctive, whether you know the person passing you or not. I like it.

When we first bought the property, we envisioned a future dream house out back- in the quiet, off the road, unseen. But then our neighbor Dan said something I'll never forget. He had no idea of our future building plans, but one afternoon whilst shooting the breeze with The Boy he said, "You know... we get a lot of folks who come out here from the city looking for peace. And they buy their property and put in this long pretty driveway and they build way back in the woods... and you never see them again." And what he was saying was, "We're looking for community. We like to wave at you when you're in your yard. We want to share this simple life, just a little bit, with you." Now isn't that exactly what we we're looking for? Yes. Yes, I believe it is.

So, no house on the back 40. We're staying out front in the Shoebox. That's just fine. We now have much clearer visions of an upstairs addition over the walkout basement. The existing basement will be finished off with a living room and 2 bedrooms and many prayers that our little family will grow.

We've decided to move the old red barn to the front of the property- where the original barn once stood some 30 years ago. This will happen, with your help, in a couple years. Picture a big, old-fashioned barn raising with macaroni and cheese and dancing. The cattle fence will be put in next month and the longhorns will come shortly after. We went to visit the baby cows again this weekend and I got licked/slimed by a pretty little girl with huge eyes and a loooooong eyelashes. I think I am in love.

The chickens are growing at ridiculous rates. I am constantly chasing birds back into their mini-coop... and they are quickly outgrowing their digs. And, when I say chasing, it's exactly as you picture it. The Boy is building them a permanent home like no other. I have dreams of flower vines growing up the side of their new coop and old gasoline advertisements nailed into the siding. The babies will start laying eggs around early November- and we'll have upwards of 20 a day, so get your cartons ready.

And my garden... well my garden is growing. Mister Dan and his big tractor came over to help us dig up the earth and get started. We flipped to the East this year (it's an even year, 2008), and next year, we'll flip to the West to keep the dirt even. My broccoli and beans are started, while the rest will go in after Memorial Day. I am learning so much... it's simple but hard work. I am finding I can do hard work.

Even if it means leaving behind a bit of the familiar.

I met The Boy at a women's retreat.

2008-05-08T08:00:00.008-04:00

That is absolutely true. That February 2002 weekend was the Young Life Women's retreat, and I was the host... which is a fancy way of saying I collected the money and made sure everyone had towels. Kevin (to your left) and Curt came down to volunteer and help me get some side-work done in-between me racing to find toilet paper for the front bathrooms. Women's Retreats are serious about their toilet paper and paper towels. Men's Retreats, not so much.

Our relationship began a week later (Thank you, Chelsey and Kevin.) by letters and phone calls. We talked once or twice a week for an hour. This is fascinating for me to think about now, because I was three hours behind him and the kid can barely keep his eyes open past 10 o'clock. Continuing...

The Young Life Men's Retreat was coming up... right about this time of year. Kevin thought maybe Curt should come for that, too. Like, as an actual participant in the weekend- being a man and all. Brilliant. It is decided that Curt will come back to California for the retreat and then he'll add on an extra day at the end for the two of us to hang out. Like, a date or something. He'll stay up the hill with the McKenzies and we'll talk and hang out... in person.

As the weekend approaches, I am not panicky. I feel remarkably calm. Natural. Fine. Seriously. We like each other, we know it, and it's good. He's going to come, it will be awkward at first, and then it's going to be wonderful. There will prolly be Puccini somewhere... and maybe maybe he'll hold my hand- if it's right. He'll know if it's right. I wonder if he'll know if it's right? And what about the other thing? The kissing thing. Do I tell him? Do I not? Will it scare him? Will he laugh at me? I should tell him. I'm 25. He'll know if I don't tell him. Maybe I shouldn't tell him... and maybe he'll never know. But, I'm 25. I should tell him because it's a stinkin' big deal and I don't want the Big Deal-ness of it just floating on by into the cool night air. I'll tell him. Tonight.

[phone rings]
Hey! It's me. How are you?
I am good. How are you? How is Michigan?
It's good. blah blah blah blah
Great! blah blah blah blah
So... are you getting nervous for me to come?
Actually, no. I'm good. But I do want to talk to you about something.
Go for it.
[big breath] Ok. So I've been thinkin' about this for awhile and whether or not I should tell you and I've finally decided I am going to tell you because it's a big deal to me and I don't want to have to talk about it when you're here because that would be really awkward and I think things are already gonna be awkward in the beginning, so why waste more time, ya know? The thing is Curt, I've never been kissed before. I mean, I've never even held someone's hand before! And I'm not nervous or anything, but I just want to get that out there because if you want to hold my hand you need to just do it, ok? Don't ask me, because then I'll panic and say no. So, if it's right, just go for it. And, really, same for the whole kissing thing, ok? I'll totally freak out. So don't ask me, ok? You decide. I just, well... it's kind of a big deal and I don't even know what to say about it except I guess I just did and... that's it.
[big. fat. silence.]
Kate?
Yeah?
Let's just, uh... let's just see how things go, ok?

And then I died.
Of embarrassment.
I fell right down on the floor in my California bedroom and I died, still holding the phone.

Right. Of course. Because I had forgotten to even consider the possibility that maybe he wouldn't even want to kiss me. Basically, I am an idiot. Kill me now.

He came anyway (bless his heart), and the retreat happened, and Kevin left, and the extra day came. We spent the morning with the McKenzies (they are a whole 'nother post unto themselves and deservedly so) and then took off for Cuyamaca and a hike that may very well be gone now due to the fires these past 5 years. We walked around the dried up lake and halfway back where we stopped on a random boulder and just sat for awhile. He was sitting behind me.

"Kate?"
"Yeah?"
"I just want to tell you that I love you."
[panic... and then, strangely, calm]
"Well, Curt...I love you, too."
[The boy scoots around to sit in front of me... and whispers,] "Is it alright if I kiss you?"

[sidebar] Do people not think I'm serious when I talk? Did I not give explicit instructions on how this whole event was to go down? Gah. [exasperation exasperation exasperation, hands up in the air]

It went fine, thank you. I totally laughed out loud in the middle of it because, Dude... kissing is weird. But after that it was totally fine. I guess. I mean, we're married now, so I think it was fine. I dunno. I don't have much to go on. But, all in all, I'd say it went just fine.

And, now you know.
The End.

[and this is me and Rebecca... in our Nation's Capital... when all this boy-stuff was brand new]

[I love these pictures.]

[It makes me really miss Bec, though.]

[I couldn't find any of the Date Weekend... I know they are out there. There's one of a teepee somewhere.]

[I miss you, Bec.]

cinquo cinquo cinquo

2008-05-05T10:30:00.016-04:00

Kleenex don't go back in the same way they come out. That's just a little public service announcement from Your Truly and the Peanut.

When I moved to Grand Rapids, I was expecting Detriot. Five years later, I still have never been to Detroit save the airport and the IKEA, but I know that Grand Rapids is not Detroit. I was picturing clouds, grey buildings, factories, alleys, industrial... Batman-ish. [I have since found that is actually describes Muskeegon very well, but I digress.]

We live in West Michigan. Dutch Country. Vermeer Influenced. Christian Reformed. Tulips. Windmills. Wooden Shoes. Frugal-ness. Furniture-making. Farming. I had absolutely no idea there was such a place, such a culture. Italians and Chinese and Irish... they are famous for immigrating and living 'the old life'. But, The Dutch? Who thinks about the Dutch? Admit it: you think about the Dutch as much as you think about Delaware. Not in West Michigan. Everyone here is Dutch. They are blonde. They are tall. They are stinkin' good volleyball players. And, they love a parade. I like these people (and their elephant ears) very much.

It's Tulip Time. And you know me... I support anything involving traditional costumes. I was absolutely dying to put Ry in a little dress and take her out on the town- this, afterall, is why I had a child in the first place: to dress her up and take her out. We spent Saturday in Holland with the VanderKoois hoping to make it to the fireworks that night, but rain dashed all our hopes and dreams. Perhaps we'll try for this weekend. The younger girls did dress up and dance, though... in the living room. Aren't they cute? I mean, puh-leeze. Jami knows the specific names for these costumes. I, being a married-in transplant, am still in Dutch training. It's a long process. [I'll put up a video of the girls dancing on my YouTube after I publish here, but be warned: girls dancing involves much laughing, non-dancing, and possibly the youngest child rolling around on the floor in the background.]

The mothers dressed up, too... Girl with a Pearl Earring style, but I don't think there are any photos of us [Oh wait... here I am. My jacket is not Dutch. It's Patagonian.]. Please do not cry... we'll dress up again. Jami was a rich farmer's wife and I was a peasant. I'll say this: those dresses make the most of Dutch/Polish/Czech hips, God Bless 'em. They know how to do it right.

I am personally very much looking forward to Cedar Spring's Red Flannel Festival, as well. Crazy country people so near and dear to my heart. Does your town have some culture you need to share?

Her future is so bright.

2008-05-01T09:17:00.009-04:00

Um, hello... does this child not look like she's 4 years old? Break my ever-lovin' heart. I would like to announce that my picky eater has now decided that she likes to eat. Don't get too excited... I can still count on one hand the particular foods she will eat, but she is now a chomper. I just feed her all the time. I think she has inherited my 'grazing' gene and will be one of those people that prefers to eat/snack all day long as opposed to 3 square meals a day. It's fun. I do not understand how this child continues to grow with a diet of bread, cream cheese, peanut butter, and oreos... but she does indeed grow.

I would like to announce that she is not walking or (officially) talking yet at 17 months, and I am still ok with that. She has also regressed to an hour-long nap in the afternoon and I am not ok with that. Neither of us are very cute come 5pm, s'all I'm sayin'. Steer Clear.

Sometimes, when Spring pretends it's here... like yesterday with it's 65° weather... I leave the front door open. And sometimes, hours after the groceries are unpacked and the child is down for her fake-nap, I return to the living room and plop myself down on the Alamo Couch. And sometimes, after I plop myself down and take a deep breath, I look to my right and I see this...

Cheeky little devil. Outside you go. BARN CAT. He's fully asleep and purring in that photo. I suppose if you're gonna get in trouble, you might as well enjoy it to the full.

And speaking of trouble... I got a call from the Lowell Police Department Tuesday. They asked me if I was related to Curt Mulder. In fact, I am. It was a full 2 minutes before the lady clearly told me that they had his license and credit card. After I died and came back to life again, I said thank you and called The Boy to let him know he owed me his everlasting love and devotion for putting me through such a call. Sheesh.

But last night his mom called and I got to say, "Well, actually he's outside plowing right now. Can he call you back when it's dark?" and it was absolutely true and I was so happy. Because we're sort of farmers, and I like that.

Shanna, Darling, your box of butterflies will be in the mail tomorrow. I just need a sturdy-but-washable strap for your bag. We're off to see some real butterflies at the Gardens. Happy weekend to you all and to all a good life... we love you here at TexasNorth. We really do.

sigh This is perhaps the most boring post ever.

2008-04-28T08:49:00.010-04:00

You missed us! Thank you for the sweet messages in our email box!!! Honestly, I missed you, too. It's very strange, but I like this habit of mine. And I like you. Mwah! I was going to say that we are well, we are 99% healthy, we are chipper, we are funny and sweet and have bows in our hair... but my child is proving me wrong this morning with a fit to beat all.

The word here is meltdown.
S'ok. I've got nothin' but time, Baby.

Look at that blurry face! Ry scored a fabric tunnel at the sale (see below). It was my ONLY purchase. I know. She was... um, very happy about it.

Things to tell you:

1. The Garage Sale of the Century in Z-Land was crazy. I've never seen anything like it. They block off streets and bring in port-a-potties AND carnival corn dogs. It's a teensy bit insane. 'Our' house, which was a combo of 4 ladies schtuff, brought in well over a grand in cash. One fam's gettin' a pool, one fam's gettin' some landscaping... it was a good two days. The Mulder fam brought in an even hundred, which is a good day's work if you ask me. Someone can pay me a hundred bucks to sit and eat corn dogs and be a cashier any day. I'm available.

I do have a blanket apology to all you moms out there whose children flipped out when they saw the plethora of carnival headbands and bath toys and bats that light up. You moms who bought things for your tired children for a quarter... that was all my stuff from my goofy college care-package days, and I am so sorry to have added to the junk in your house. But, it's literally out of my hands now and I can't say I'm too sad about that.

2. Wednesday is the last day to participate in the Spreading of Joy event by buying from Thriftygoodness.etsy.com or Texasnorth.etsy.com - and thank you to all of you who already have. You rock steady.

3. The Coop is in process. I repeat, the COOP is in process. The base is currently sitting in the pole barn waiting for siding. But, given The Boy's knack for detail, he chalked-lined the whole layout on top of the plywood. I spent an hour yesterday opening my pretend-door, walking in the pretend-storage area, doling out pretend-feed, and checking for pretend-eggs. It was fun. Really.

and finally,

4. I ordered all my plants and seeds. I'm scared, Friends. I've never put in my own honest-to-goodness garden before and I'm afraid I'll kill everything by Day 2. Please send any advice or stories my way. I'll take anything. Anything. I want to be a good Farm Girl so very, very badly. A rockin' farm girl. *sigh* I'm super excited about the shasta viburnum I bought and planted yesterday. Huge lazy branches... happy white flowers... pretty from above (like, from my kitchen window). Sounds like a winner to me. Watch it die die die tomorrow.

***This post has been brought to you by the letters V and Z, as in- Verizon Wireless Aircard. Mmmhmmm... that means no more dial-up and no more landline phone. For the three of you that actually used our landline phone, you must cease and desist. It will be disconnected today because Mamma Mulder simplified the bills.***

coming Thursday:
better, more spicy, content
Thank you for your patience.

the adventures of Curt and Katie Mulder

Now, y'all just settle down.

what keeps me going

To whom it may concern,

I have done it.

Mamma feels like poo.

Oh my word, it's Thursday.

hit and miss

T'was

fish

bit fat sigh

the Holidays

I don't know if this will work.

I should tell you; I should tell you.

Hey!

farmin'

tomorrow

time management

Project Rooster

answers to the Survival Challenge

a challenge

lots of things

a million and one

days of yore

It was a dark and stormy night...

results

so we went to get a haircut...

vacation

a challenge

Thursday

More cow[bell], please.

knit market bag

everyday dresses

celebration banners

16 x 20 flat canvas

She can be taught!

Sundays

seriously

I'm comin', I'm comin'.

12x16 custom pillow

swamped

let's talk chicken

cutting it close

Wrinkly baby feet, anyone?

'tis the season

parking lots

Who knew?

imagine me being all sing-songy 'HELLLLLLUUUU!!'-ish

lest you call me a tease...

Hay!

I don't even wanna hear about it.

my longest relationship

let me rock your world a bit

therapy

evidence

the minors

a smattering

uh... Mother Nature called

Hell hath no fury like 70 mph wind gusts.

treasures

edu-macation

good fences make good neighbors

luxury

meet the parents

funnies

results

ooopsie

anatomy

what you may not know

pirates

please hold

Memorial Day

the four one two

the four one one

when it rains, it pours

perspective

I met The Boy at a women's retreat.

cinquo cinquo cinquo

Her future is so bright.

*sigh* This is perhaps the most boring post ever.

sigh This is perhaps the most boring post ever.