Minor miracle, major accomplishment

Here it is...my most recent miracle: I sewed the dress, and the bloomers! And I'm getting ready to sew a pinafore if I can find pattern piece 13. Setting the sleeves in was a little tricky, and the zipper in the back, but all in all, we're both pleased.

I don't think it's nice enough to wear to church, but Kristine is insistent that "I can wear it today (Friday), and tomorrow(Saturday), then you can wash it and I'll wear it for church!" We'll see...

I thought I'd be smart and measure her before I made the dress, just to be sure a 6 would fit. Well, according to the measurements, the 6 would be huge on her, but the 3 would fit just right. So I made the 4...room to grow, you know. Huh. The bodice is too big, and the skirt barely covers her knees. Crazy kid. Can't grow in proportion. She's 6 and going into 1st grade and I still shop in the toddler section for her. Insane. Cute, but insane.

The annual expedition to Garrison, MN

It was a cloudy, drizzly day. Jon just got off a long shift, and I didn't feel like cleaning or cooking or anything else I might do inside while it rained, so we took off.

Garrison is a comfortable hour away on Mille Lacs Lake. Jon and I made it a tradition soon after we were married to drive up in the spring and take pictures at the 'big fish' and see if we can find any exotic-type ice cream in the tourist-y little town. Only ice cream bars from the SA this year.



We fought the May flies to get these pictures. They were swarmed all over the fish, and the monument, and the stone wall. Everywhere we went, the walls were covered with the black bugs. NASTY! Kristine found a cloud of them on her way down to the beach and purposefully ran through it. Gross. Then, on her way back up, she ran through it again. Really Gross.

Kristine and her 'sweet Papa' walking the beach:


Stinky, smelly, very interesting discovery:

What the 'sweet Papa' does with sticky, stinky, smelly, bug-covered little girls:
It was very good to get away for a day.

On the way home, we stopped at the Ojibwa Indian museum. I'd always wanted to go, but every time we got there, it was closed. This time it was open, and I saw more and heard more and began to understand more about the Ojibwa in our area than I'd ever expected! It was so informative and interesting. There was a life-size diorama showing life in the Indian camp through the year. Kristine said she was a little scared because the statues could talk; she was just waiting for them to move. And what would happen if that wolf actually came to life?! Poor girl clung to her sweet Papa and looked with huge eyes.

There was a great display of the beautiful bead work these people do; including a beaded bandoleer type bag that was said to be worth a pony in the 1860's. We decided that we wouldn't be able to trade our car for such a work of art. Beautiful. Kristine loves to bead, so this was wonderful for her. She couldn't get enough of the patterns and colors and sheer numbers of beads. And she really wanted to touch them. LOL. She couldn't see why we couldn't open the display cases.

Then we moved on the the birch bark baskets. I love those. So pretty, natural and useful. It's a good thing the trading post was closed.

We were wiped out when we got home. But it was a good tired.

Kristine's first choir concert!

Our little kind-i-gardner made her first public appearance last Friday night. She's part of a girls choir (secular) that has traveled pretty extensively around Europe and the US. (Not Kristine's age group, of course, but the older girls).

So, we came full of expectations of good singing, good directing, and all around good...umm...culture? And we went away a little disappointed. (Not in Kristine's age group, of course, but the older girls. And most notably in their director.) Too bad. They had arranged the concert backwards, so that the older girls sang all their songs before the little ones,--it was 8:15 or later before the little girls went on--and alot of the older girl's songs weren't ready, and the director was really obnoxious. So, blah, blah, blah.

Now the good part. Kristine was brilliant! Her group sang their songs well, and really had a good time singing and performing them. They told the story of The Three Little Pigs in song, and really had the audience laughing at their lines and antics. They also did the Mickey Mouse Club March, and Heigh Ho. The group wrote a song they called The Twelve Days of Summer in which they pretty well demanded a good time(I wasn't so keen on it, but Kristine later confided that they all knew it was rude and selfish of them, but they were doing it in fun). She wasn't at all nervous, she said, not even on the risers and the stage above the audience. She said she even saw us in the audience! She moved around well, and I could even hear her voice!

We had to go as soon as her songs were done, so we could get the chores done, but I had some flowers and chocoates in the car for her because the star of the show always gets them. I am excitted that she did so well, and obviously had such a good time at it. She's already looking forward to next year because "I get to sing by myself! And maybe in a microphone!"

I did take pictures, but I didn't have the right setting on the camera, and they came out blurry and funny. Bummer, dude--can you believe there are no pictures on this blog yet?! Sorry--better next time.

Up and running

I got up pretty early (for me) this morning: 7AM. Jon was just home from working nights, and we have a goat--a doe--who needs to learn to be milked. She's a beauty, and I think she'll turn out to be one of our better milkers once she settles down some.



Yeah, Ebby's a wild one. She hates being milked, and having her udder handled and etc. (I know I deserve some crazy comments about how much I would enjoy the whole process were the positions reversed, and she's only doing what I would do --I know. But SHE's the goat. I'M the milker). So, first, we have to catch her. This involves quickly moving around the pasture trying to avoid the more willing-to-be-milked while alternately cajoling and entreating and threatening and trying to entrap the most deer-like of all our goats. Jon and I both work at this with pockets and at least one hand full of goat treats. Yelling "Treat!" is the magical way to get 6 goats thundering across the pasture at any time of day or night. Except at 7AM. Then only 5 come thundering across. Ebby runs the other way. After about 10 minutes of this, and our pockets are empty, Jon wanders off to the garage muttering something about learning to lasso, and I get a little smarter. She runs away from me, so I just need to chase her into the barn, or some other enclosure where there is only one way out. And it works. This time.



So, she comes reluctantly to the milking stand. And cowers while I LOVINGLY and GENTLY brush and soothe her with my breathless VOICE. Some more treats and a little grain in the feed bucket, and we're ready to roll. Now, if I were to try to milk her myself, she would jump around and tap dance all over the table, kick the milk bucket, wash bucket and teat dip all over the place. And Kristine would stand just far enough away and laugh so hard I'd be afraid she'd fall over. (When Kristine hears me opening the front door in the morning, she asks if I'm going to milk Ebby. And if I say 'yes' she scrambles out of bed and runs out to watch and laugh.) So I don't try to milk her myself anymore. Now, Jon helps.



He holds her back feet. In whichever of the various positions he finds them, he holds them. And he holds tight, by jimney. This morning the milk didn't get kicked over, neither did the wash bucket nor the teat dip. Jon got a morning work out akin to the Nordic track--only more frantic, vigorous and otherwise stimulating. His arms were pumping so fast, I thought I might just let go of Ebby's teats and the milk should run out all on it's own! She was standing on her front legs with her back legs up at a good angle, feet stretched out, and kicking for all she was worth! And she's half Nubian, which means she tells anyone withing hearing distance exactly what is going on behind closed doors in the oh-so-innocent-looking garage. She screams like a goat in mortal agony, and hardly stops to take a breath. Sigh.

My goat gurus say that a few more mornings like this and she'll stand as meekly as a kitten and allow herself to be handled.



We got her milked out all right, and strained that beautiful creamy white milk, and I contemplated going back to bed. But I was up and running, and I hope this blog is too. Glad to be on board. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.