Working and resting

We got so much done this week! Of course, getting things done is Jon's way of telling us he loves us, and a chance for him to do what he loves--work with his hands. I need only mention something in passing, and pretty soon he's on it. I finally commented on the heat last week, so this week he put in the A/C, and sheared Daisy:

She gets embarrassed easily, so if you come over, don't mention the chopped up hair job. I'm sure she's much cooler. I think there was about 10 pounds of wool on her.

I canned up some tomato paste:

And crocheted some soakers:
They are much cuter in reality--they have a sparkly halo on them.

Kristine has been doing some wonderful coloring (Nana, Grandma, Emily and Jenna should be receiving some of those masterpieces soon) and one day last week she took the box of crayons and threw them over her shoulder:

She said "I meant to do that."

And a few minutes later, she did it again:

Last Saturday, we went out and spent a lot of $$$ at Menards, and this is what Jon did with what we bought: Before:

After:

Before:

After:

He tore out that disgusting toilet and room-hog ugly sink, sanded down the nasty texture on the walls, took off the pitiful panelling, and put a layer of sheet rock mud over everything that needed it. Then he put in the new WHITE toilet and pedestal sink. It feels so roomy in there, now. We bought the heating coils for the floor, and we have the tile and all that stuff, so that's the next deal. We still need to figure out what in the world has to be done with that big black pipe that stands almost in the middle of the room from floor to ceiling before we can put in a shower, so we're going to have to call a professional (!) for an opinion, at least. The walls still need to be sanded down again and painted--Jon wants white, and I think I'd be happy with anything other than yellow! And then the ceiling itself needs to be painted, too (it's still yellow).

And finally, the kitchen sink: Hooray, hooray. No more dripping, ugly faucet. No more spray attachment that won't turn off--you know, we had some pretty funny times with that thing--and no more disgusting crud that won't stop coming and coming out from around the base. This one has a spray option right on the faucet head, and it comes out to reach where ever I want it, AND it goes back in. That funny thing on the left of the faucet is my soap dispenser! Amazing--what will they think of next! And this one was one of the cheapest ones available (I don't think they even make and sell the one we took out!), so if you are thinking of changing your faucet, you can be sure it will be a pretty nice deal.

Kristine also passed her swimming lessons level 1, and is signed up for level 2 in July. She was pretty proud of that. They gave her a certificate listing all the water skills she now possesses, and she's read it over to me a few times and, I'm sure to Jon, pointing out the ones she's especially proud of, and also the ones she didn't realize they were keeping track of.

She started Tball, and is really enjoying it. She was a little nervous at first, until she realized she was supposed to run, and throw the ball overhand and hit the ball as hard as she could and learn to catch with a glove just like she's seen 'baseball guys' do. And, I think the fact that there is a little competition is really a plus for her. I'll have to get some pictures up next week.

I know this sounds incredibly busy and a lot of hard work, but have you noticed that when you've put in the hard, physical labor that the physical rest is so much sweeter? I was out weeding the beans this morning thinking about how restful it was. I was in the hot sun, and in the mud with sweat dripping down my face and back, but I was resting. And it was lovely. I think, sometimes, that the idle busy-ness of 'vacationing' or even watching TV tires the soul so much more than producing something with your hands to your own satisfaction. I have been reminded lately to 'do it heartily as unto the Lord', and realized that it didn't say 'if you do...' but 'whatsoever you do'. Implying that there isn't much time that I shouldn't be doing. Not in a busy way--rushing and worrying--but in a mindful, prayerful, hearty way that allows the Holy Spirit to move in me through the work.

We've been slogging our way through Hebrews at church for the last 6-8 months, and we've come to chapter 12 (finally!) and it talks about discipline, and running the race--not just to run, but to win--and setting our eyes on the goal. One of our pastors was saying that though the word 'discipline' makes us think of punishment and pain and hard work, that the point of discipline is not rules and regulations and deprivation, but freedom. Freedom from the things that get in our way of us attaining that goal. If we discipline ourselves, it frees up time and energy and resources because we aren't wasting the time and energy trying to get that short term 'prize'. And, he said, in being disciplined as a lifestyle, we find ourselves rested and always ready for whatever the Lord would have us do and say.

I'm afraid I haven't explained it very well, but it was such a revelation to me. Maybe I'll have some more understanding to explain it better later.

And, I'm afraid, that's more than enough for this post. I'm off to bed.

Whew! The first week of swimming lessons is over. We almost didn't make it...I scheduled the 9AM lesson(too early for us), and we've been running and running and still barely making it on time. Something always happens, you know, to impede speediness(this morning I broke my big 2 quart tea pot while it was full of boiling water and loose tea. I need to mop the floor and inside of the bottom cupboards again.)

Anyway, here's Kristine's accomplishments of the week:


Last year the diving board was something of a nemesis; but this year, she's jumping off as if she's done it all her life.


She's swimming a lot quicker from one end of the pool to the other. Last year she was always the last one to arrive, and often had to be towed by the teacher. Now she's almost always the third or fourth out of ten. And using all of her arms and legs. Not chatting so much. She's pretty proud of that.

Another thing she's pretty proud of is that she's undressing and showering and dressing all by herself this year. In past years, I've done it for her thinking I could keep her on task rather than gawking at all the other little kids gawking at her (it usually didn't work very well, and I was crabby by the time she was dried and dressed and ready to go). This year I decided she needs to learn to do it herself. And she's doing great! Slow, but steady dressing completely under her towel (LOL where did she get that modesty?)--I should get a picture. She told her sweet Papa the other day that it's really hard to stay under that towel, but she'd rather do that than have all the little boys (under 5 years old) stare at her (!). I guess she's growing up a little.

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.